Contents
Copyright
Dear Reader
Back Copy
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Also By Mira Lyn Kelly
Excerpt from MAY THE BEST MAN WIN
Excerpt from TRUTH OR DARE
About Mira
LOVE LIKE A CURSE Copyright ©2016 by Mira Lyn Kelly
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced nor used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for use of brief quotations in a book review.
LOVE LIKE A CURSE is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover by Mira Lyn Kelly.
Stock photo © iStockphoto.com
Dear Reader,
I know what you’re thinking… “Paranormal what??!! I thought Mira only wrote Contemporary Romance!!??” And yeah, you’re mostly right. But here’s the thing… while I don’t normally write paranormals—in fact, LOVE LIKE A CURSE is my first and only—I LOVE Love love them!! So when I happened across this little gem digging through my old files, I had to stop and give it read. So much fun!! And then when I realized Halloween was coming up…I couldn’t resist!
So a little backstory on LOVE LIKE A CURSE. This story was originally published as LOVE LIKE MAGIC under the pen name Moira McTark about ten years ago with an itty bitty, tiny publisher that has long since gone out of business. I believe the sales were somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 copies, but I may be over estimating! SOOOooo I’m guessing you haven’t read it. But in case you have, the story has been spruced up, and you can expect a fresh read.
I hope you’ll enjoy Rafe and Kayla as much as I have!
Have a happy Halloween!!
((Hugs))
Mira
LOVE LIKE A CURSE by Mira Lyn Kelly
A ghosty, witchy, spell-casty Halloween love story…
Bar owner Kayla Sloane knows she has it good. Too good to complain about anything as trivial as her big brother’s over-protective streak or poor impulse control when it comes to judging her dates. After all, the guy’s a ghost—it’s not like his life turned out the way he planned either.
So Kayla can’t date. So what. The only man to make her want more moved away the day she met him, and a year later, she’s accepted her lack of love life for what it is.
Her meddling wanna-be-witch little sister though? Not so much.
Rafe Carpenter is a haunted man. For more than a year, he's dreamed of Kayla's smile, her laugh, and her sexy kiss. Now he's back in Chicago, looking for a second chance with the woman he's sure is The One.
Only Kayla isn’t convinced. She’s got a few concerns, including her non-traditional family. But Rafe’s a see-it-to-believe it guy, he’s not seeing anything but how right they are together. Now he just needs to convince her…
LOVE LIKE A CURSE is approximately 16,000 words, and was originally published as LOVE LIKE MAGIC under the name Moira McTark.
For the Romance Divas
Chapter One
Cool autumn air blew in violent gusts that whipped the graying sheers at the bedroom window, swirling a collection of dried leaves and twigs across the hardwood floor in a rustle of displaced movement.
With arms crossed and one bare foot tapping the worn floor boards, Kayla Sloan scowled down at the Ouija board lying open in a pathetic plea and blew out her breath in a hiss. “Forget it. I’m mad. Opal’s covering me, and it’s already after five. I have to get back behind the bar before the Halloween rush hits.”
She hooked the buckle at the hip of her charcoal pleated skirt and ignored the planchette poised over the word Hello. Stuffing her foot into a black and orange striped, thigh-high stocking with more aggression than strictly necessary, she bit her tongue against the string of obscenities poised on its tip.
Resentment swelled in her chest, and she huffed, “All he did was ask. I wouldn’t have said yes. I never do.” Well, almost never. But Aaron didn’t know about that night a year ago and she sure as heck wasn’t going to tell him. “I know you think you’re protecting me–which is the only reason I haven’t had your poltergeist ass exorcised out of here. But there is no excuse, ever, to plant a rash like that on someone’s face.”
She stepped over the customized board, strode to the small vanity next to her closet, and looked into the mirror. Not bothering with her own reflection, she stared at the space beyond her shoulder, where her brother Aaron stood. “Well?”
“Oh, so now you’re going to listen?” His voice came from within her head rather than from the ghostly image of a material form long gone behind her. Generally, Aaron preferred to use the board. Communication through the Ouija required less energy but after that scene with the passably cute wine distributor, Kayla wasn’t in an accommodating mood. She wanted the semblance of a normal conversation. She wanted to forget that the man with whom she was fighting had been dead for ten years.
Aaron’s snapshot image hadn’t moved in the reflection, but his restless energy was all around her, disrupting the air in the room so the leaves blew in spirals around her ankles.
“That guy was a prick, Kay.” Even now, his voice carried the arrogant grit he’d picked up in high school.
“That guy was a business contact. A nice man with a friendly smile who had no reason to suspect asking me to grab a cup of coffee would land him an emergency trip to the dermatologist.”
Arron’s image stuttered, for an instant he stood with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders caught mid-shrug, then he was a few feet closer. “I couldn’t help it. It’s All Hallows Eve, so I’m stronger than usual.”
She glared at his reflection. “Bull! I can tell you’re lying by the way you’re throwing those damn leaves around.”
“Fine. He was an asshole, and I didn’t feel like watching you fall for his bullshit,” Aaron snapped, his words gaining volume as they now came from outside her head rather than from within. She closed her eyes and drew a slow breath wondering how many times and how many ways they could have this same conversation, the one they hadn’t had a chance to finish ten years ago. The one Aaron wasn’t capable of letting go.
She could still see Aaron’s red face, his eyes locked on hers across the back seat of their parents’ SUV, remember the hush of their voices as they tried not to wake Opal beside them or more importantly let their parents know what they’d been fighting about.
“God, Aaron, why can’t you just get out of my business?”
“Because you’re my little sister and I’d rather have you pissed at me for a couple of days than played by that douche all summer. Kayla, I get that you’re into him, but you gotta believe me—Tate’s no good for you.”
That’s what he’d told her Aaron would say. People thought he was a player, but the rumors weren’t true. “You just don’t like him.”
“Damn right, I don’t. He’s a college sophomore picking up my high school sister, which I wouldn’t be down with even if he was an otherwise stellar guy.”
“It’s a couple of years—”
“It’s more than a couple of years. This prick isn’t a good guy. Did you know he got Jerry’s sister into coke last year? Or that the reason he’s trawling the high schools for dates is because every girl on campus knows about the score card he keeps for the girls he’s been with? I’ve seen it, Kayla, and there’s no fucking way I’m letting your name go on it with a B- listed for head.”
Kay
la gasped, her stomach lurching.
It couldn’t be true. Except it had to be, because Aaron didn’t lie. He wasn’t some shit who got off on giving his little sisters a hard time. Even with the four year age gap between them, they’d always been close. He looked out for her and until this week, she’d loved him for it.
Bottom line, he wouldn’t make this up.
Aaron shook his head, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Damn it, Kayla, I need to know you get this. Look at me!”
She should have looked. Maybe if she’d met his eyes for that single second, it would have been enough. Maybe Aaron would have been able to see she understood. But instead her focus had caught on the blur beyond his window, the truck that was too close, coming too fast—and then it had been too late. Somehow the overprotective urgency of her brother’s last minutes had followed him, become ingrained in his spirit in a way that, even ten years later, he still couldn’t let go.
Clearing her throat, she turned to face him and froze. Suddenly Aaron wasn’t a series of still frames thrown around the room, but her brother, stepping toward her, brows furrowed. Heightened emotion—hers, his? She suspected it was a combination of them together—had a way of strengthening Aaron, causing his form to fill out. She’d seen it before, but never like this. Never had he looked so real, so alive, that tears pricked her eyes and her arms ached with the need to wrap around him.
Maybe Halloween really was making him stronger.
“Your nice guy keeps his wedding band in the ashtray of his car,” Aaron stated flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Kayla pulled her chin back with a grimace. “His wedding band? He’s married? Wait, were you able to leave the building?” She’d thought he couldn’t do it. Or maybe wouldn’t—sometimes it was hard to tell with Aaron. “How do you know about his car?”
“Stray thought I picked up,” he said with a shrug, flickering just a little. “It happens sometimes.”
“Right.” The idea of the guy’s wedding band stored in the ashtray definitely put a kink in Kayla’s conviction to stay mad. “Regardless, you can’t keep doing stuff like this. People are going to notice if every guy who happens to take a second look at Opal or me walks away with a limp, itch, or rash.”
Kayla sat back on the bed and tugged on her black, calf-high boots. “Besides, every time you pull a stunt like this, I end up having to change and get my clothes dry-cleaned. That ectoplasmic crap you spit out sticks to me like spider webs.” It never seemed to get all over Opal, probably because she‘d been wearing her seatbelt when the semi hit them. In life, her little sister had loved Aaron as much as anyone. But after—she didn’t share the same connection Kayla did.
Maybe that’s why Aaron let Opal be. He couldn’t keep track of her the same way he could with Kayla.
“I’m not trying to keep you from having a life.” He sounded almost sincere. “I’m trying to keep you from having a shitty one.”
She balled her fists at her sides. “Get out of my head, Aaron.”
A whoosh of air sped through the room, and the leaves that had been in constant motion fell to the floor as silence descended. She was alone.
Shoulders slumped, Kayla walked back to her bed and sat at the edge. This was insanity. Arron might be a ghost, but Kayla was the one who didn’t exist beyond these walls.
She lived with her dead brother and witchy-wanna-be sister in an apartment above the bar her parents had left them. She didn’t have any friends, only friendly regulars. People with whom she passed a few words before they met their dates or co-workers for drinks. She didn’t have lovers. She had her family. Or rather, what was left of them. It should be plenty, and to think otherwise seemed like an immense betrayal.
But there were times when the loneliness overwhelmed her, and she wished for the comfort of a friend’s companionship. Longed to feel the intensity of a lover’s desire. Wondered how love might exist for her. And in those brief, selfish moments, one face came to mind. One low, sexy laugh and one long, hard kiss, the memory of which always left her breathless.
Rafe Carpenter. A year had passed since the night they’d met waiting for their ridiculously delayed carry-out orders to come up at the place down the block. She’d known from the first sentence out of his mouth he was leaving the next day, moving to Portland to help a buddy opening a microbrewery. It was the reason she’d agreed when he asked if she wanted to share a booth while they ate. Then—when the remains of their meal had gone cold but the laughter and conversation continued to flow—if she’d like to go for a walk. And hours later, when goodbye weighed heavy in the air between them…that kiss.
She’d been able to say yes to all of it because Rafe would be long gone before Aaron had a chance to act.
But more and more over the past few days, she’d found herself thinking about Rafe. Dwelling on the feel of those overlong dark strands between her fingers, and the strength of his arms closing around her. Wondering what it might have been like if he hadn’t been leaving…if she had a normal life.
In a snap, her skin turned clammy and her stomach tensed in fear. She cursed herself for even thinking about normal, knowing that Aaron had no place in the normal world and she didn’t want a world without him.
* * * * *
Rafe Carpenter stood at the fuel pump and stretched, his limbs screaming their relief after hours of confinement. Every nerve in his body was on edge, no doubt a side effect of the jet engine strength gas station coffee he’d been slugging back since he woke at five with a clawing need to get back on the road, get back to Chicago, get back to her.
Fuck, maybe get back to her.
He’d be lucky if Kayla even recognized him. Hell, it had been a year. A year to the day since they’d met and then a handful of hours later said goodbye. Only it had been more than that. At least to him. But for all he knew, Kayla had a new guy getting caught up in her every night.
She was irresistible. With all that gorgeous red brown hair, her bee-stung lips and delicate curves, he didn’t know how he’d managed to keep his hands to himself as long as he had. But more than her too tempting looks, it was the things she said and that soft sexy laugh that really did him in. They’d talked for hours, about anything and everything: About her bar and his brewing experience; about the neighborhood they’d both grown up in; about missed opportunities and how sometimes they could be the greatest gift of all. And just when he didn’t think he could stand not touching her for another second, she’d leaned into him and whispered, “I know you’re leaving, but I don’t want to miss this.”
And she’d kissed him.
Yeah, that kiss had left him rock hard and aching for a month. Haunted by the taste of her lips. Leaving had been a mistake, and not just because the business plan for his buddy’s microbrewery had been flawed beyond salvage, but because that instant connection he’d felt with Kayla was like nothing he’d experienced before. It was beyond intense and, shit, he’d felt crazy for thinking it, but it was almost like he could feel something trying to pull him back as he’d driven over the state line.
He’d felt that pull for a solid year. Even now, some fucked up part of his psyche was clinging to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he’d gotten to her the way she’d gotten to him. That tonight she might be thinking of him, thinking of those hours they were together this night twelve months ago. That she might be waiting for him.
Waiting for him? Where the hell had that come from?
He knew better, but still the second the pump stopped filling, he didn’t waste a second getting back on the road.
* * * * *
From the front of the apartment came the sound of the door slamming, followed by the thud of Opal’s bag hitting the floor.
“Hey I thought you only needed a minute to change,” her sister called. “McDonnell’s covering the bar until Gloria shows, but then he’s out. If the crowd is anything like it was last year, we’re going to need you down there.”
Right. Kayla closed her eyes and blew out a clean
sing breath. Time to exit the pity party and get herself together.
With a quick glance at the mirror, checking her own reflection this time, she winced at her tangle of dark waves and the bits of dried leaves caught within.
She rummaged through her drawers in search of something to tame the beast, but came up empty. Great.
“Opal, have you seen my brush?” Even at twenty-one, her little sister hadn’t outgrown her tendency to borrow things without replacing them.
“Sorry! Think it’s in my room.”
Kayla walked barefoot down the hall and pushed open her sister’s door. The heavy scent of incense clogged her nose, and she pulled back with a grimace. Trying not to breathe the thickly laced air, she popped her head in.
“What the heck did you blow up in here?” she choked, surveying the disaster that was Opal’s private space. Spilled stacks of books, candles, and baggies of what looked like old roots cluttered the floor, while discarded clothing in shades of black and gray lay strewn over her futon and trunks. At the center was a large table used for casting and apparently as a vanity as well, seeing as her missing brush sat in a basket on top.
The heavy tread of her sister’s black boots sounded behind her and then Opal was edging past, gingerly stepping around the debris to crack the window. “It’s not that bad.” She coughed a few times. “Okay, maybe it is.”
Stepping over to the table, Kayla smiled at what she guessed was one of Opal’s spells. “Hey, this looks cool.” Two stones, tied with ribbons, were held in place by a hardened pool of red candle wax. The picture would have been perfect if it weren’t for the clump of half-burned hair that had gotten into it. “What’s it supposed to do?” she asked, trying to pull the hair free.
“Don’t touch that!” Opal snapped, lunging in to swat her hands away then hovering over her rocks like an expectant mother.