Come To Me Read online

  Come To Me

  By Sofia Grey

  © 16 September 2012, Copyright by Sofia Grey. All rights reserved.

  Thanks to my co-mods at Goodreads for inspiring this short story in the first place, and to Lillian and Sotia, for critiquing and editing. You guys rock J

  Chapter 1 – Close by

  Where the hell are you…?

  Summer concentrated hard. Her right hand sat loose and relaxed in Becky's, but her left was being squeezed so tight, she'd lost the feeling in her fingertips. Alice had never been to a séance before and, judging by how nervous she looked, Summer guessed this would be a one-time thing. With an effort, she tried to ignore Alice and focused again.

  Tea light candles flickered on the table in front of her. She blinked. No draughts, no window left open. Letting her eyelids droop, she stared at the nearest candle, her gaze intent on the tiny flame until the light blurred and separated. Her breathing slowed, heart following suit, and she forced her entire body to relax from the shoulders down. Any minute now…

  It was as though she'd been split into two people: Summer-at-the-table, head down, silent and empty – a shell – and Summer-on-the-psychic-plane, where she felt at home. Her mind soared, tendrils of her consciousness roaming far and wide, rippling out in waves. She knew a spirit was close by, lurking just out of reach.

  Summer-at-the-table spoke in low, measured tones. “I want to talk to Arthur Milton.” A pause. “Arthur, your wife and daughter are here with me. They’d like to speak to you.”

  Beside her at the small round table, Alice shivered, the tremor running up Summer's arm. “It's cold in here,” Alice muttered. “Why is it so cold?”

  Summer exhaled slowly and ignored the question. Another deep breath. “Arthur, can you hear me? Come to me.” It wasn't cold in the room—not really. The sun had been relentless this afternoon, a beautiful late spring day, and it still felt hot outside. The chill in the room was due to the spirit that still refused to show himself. Summer gritted her teeth and probed deeper. Come on, Arthur.

  Something brushed up against her mind. Hard, warm and confident, this spirit was strong and proud, and somehow bigger than she’d expected of the late Arthur Milton. The photograph she'd seen portrayed a nervous looking gentleman and, by all accounts, he'd been henpecked throughout forty years of marriage. Summer wondered if by dying he'd finally achieved some peace and quiet. She sat perfectly still and waited for the spirit to approach again.

  “Come to me.” Her voice was gentle.

  Chapter 2 – Who are you?

  A smell drifted into the room. Freshly cut grass? No, more dusty…Hay. It smelled like bales of hay. Beside her, Summer heard Alice sniff, then Becky too. A soft jingling noise grabbed her attention, and she followed the sound.

  Standing in the corner of Alice's parlour, looking so absurdly out of place that Summer wanted to laugh aloud, was a cowboy. His frame tall and well built, his over-long inky black hair fell forwards onto a tanned face, jaw grazed with dark stubble. Deep blue eyes looked mischievous, his gaze flashing over Summer while the corners of his mouth tugged upwards in amusement.

  She swallowed and tried to order her thoughts but could only stare. A cowboy? Leather chaps over faded denim, boots with spurs – that explained the jingle – long coat and a hat clutched in his right hand. Yep, he looked the part.

  Alice squeezed her hand even tighter, and Becky shifted in her seat. She could practically smell their nervousness. While it was normal for Summer to see spirits manifesting like this, poor Alice was probably freaking out.

  Finding her voice, Summer strove for calm. “Are you Arthur?”

  “Arthur?” The cowboy raised one eyebrow. “I've been called many names, darlin’, but never Arthur.” His voice washed over her, smooth and seductive, and sweet as a bowl of melted chocolate. Summer felt an inexplicable urge to ask him to say something else. Her name, perhaps. Get a grip, Summer.

  She blinked and spoke again, slightly more controlled. “We're looking for Arthur Milton. Are you his spirit guide?”

  That drew a short laugh. “The only Arthur I know is my brother's dog. Damn fool name for a hound. I'm guessing you're not looking for him?” He stepped closer and banged the hat gently against his thigh. Summer watched, transfixed, as a cloud of dust drifted to the floor. This apparition looked real enough to touch. She felt Alice and Becky shrinking back.

  “Keep your hands linked,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his face. With those high, Slavic cheekbones, he could have walked straight out of a Tolstoy novel, but that accent…like molasses, she decided. “If you're not Arthur, who are you?”

  Chapter 3 – Still beating

  “The name’s Jack. Jack McKane. Are you gonna tell me your name, Sugar?”

  He pronounced it Shug-ah, and Summer blinked. Not quite her name, but close enough. “I’m Summer Mead-” She didn’t get a chance to finish; Alice interrupted.

  “What kind of trick is this? Who is this man? And how dare you let him into my house?” Her voice rose, fear underpinning every word. The cowboy paused and frowned at her.

  Now Becky joined in. “Mum, I don’t like this.” She started to tug her hand free from Summer and, just like that, the séance began to fall apart. Summer could feel his gaze upon her – she wanted to talk to him – but she needed to calm the two frightened women first. She started by squeezing their fingers.

  “He’s a spirit, Alice. I’m hoping he can find Arthur for you.”

  “But…but…I can see him.”

  Well, duh! “Yes, we can all see him.”

  “You didn’t say anything about strange men coming in my house. I’m not happy about this, Summer. I think I want my money back.”

  The cowboy – Jack – stood there, gently tapping his hat against his leg. “Do we have a problem, ladies?”

  God, that voice. “We weren’t expecting to see you, Mr McKane.” Summer had a dilemma. Keep this rather delicious guy talking a little longer or politely ask him to leave and try again to call up Arthur? There was no contest. Yummy-Jack won by a mile. Mentally waving her fees aside, she gave Alice an encouraging smile and then looked back at him.

  “No problem. Where are you from, Mr McKane?”

  His smile widened, and Summer saw a flash of dimple in one sculpted cheek. “Please, call me Jack. I’m from the Silver Creek Ranch, west of San Antonio.” He broke off and gazed around the room, the dimple vanishing and his eyes narrowing. “Where in the hell am I? This sure ain’t Texas.”

  “It’s—ah—Manchester. England.”

  The stubbled jaw tightened, and he cocked his head. “England?” She might as well have said Mars. “I ain’t never been to England.” The drawl lengthened, making Summer giddy with delight. She hurried to ask him another question—anything to keep him talking.

  “When did you die, Jack? What year was it?”

  “Die?” His eyebrows shot up and disappeared behind an enticing lock of hair. She longed to sweep it back with her fingers, wondering if it felt as silky as it looked. “What do you mean, die?” One hand rose to slip inside his shirt. “Nope, still beating. This is just a dream. I’ve eaten too many ribs for supper.” When he pulled his hand free, his shirt lifted to show a flash of hard, golden stomach. Summer licked her lips, her mouth unaccountably dry.

  “It sure was nice making your acquaintance, Sum-mah Meadows.” The dimple returned, and Jack took another step forward, extending his hand towards her. Forgetting this was a séance, forgetting that Jack was a spirit, she released Becky’s fingers and held out her own hand.

  Jack vanished.

  Amidst startled yelps from the two women, Summer groaned at her stupid mistake. Life sucked sometimes. The first man to come along who made her forget about her ex, and he was dead. Not on
ly that, but Arthur finally decided to make an appearance, and now the chance of calling her yummy-cowboy back bordered on nil.

  Chapter 4 – Melting Chocolate

  Rob snuck back into her thoughts at bedtime. A year ago, they’d been engaged. Six months ago, they’d been knee-deep in seating plans and colour schemes for the wedding. Three months ago, he’d run away and joined the Army. She could only deduce that living in a desert battle zone was preferable to marrying her. It hurt. She’d been through anger, grief and revenge; surely she was inching closer to acceptance now?

  As she turned her pillow over, again, she concluded that no, she wasn’t over him yet. It didn’t help that Rob had been the best lover she’d had and, as such, was doubly difficult to replace.

  She closed her eyes, pretending once more that he lay behind her, spooned against her. Sleep lurked, waiting on the fringes to move in. A gentle hand curled around her breast, and she sighed, relaxing, softening under the touch. It felt so real. She could pretend she was no longer alone in bed. Hot breath on the back of her neck soothed her. Warm, soft lips nuzzled the tender spot behind her ear, and she was lost.

  ***

  “You're chirpy this morning. Was it a good séance last night?”

  Summer paused as she worked and glanced up at her friend and business associate, Lisa.

  “You're singing to yourself.” Lisa slipped one arm around Summer’s shoulders in a quick hug. “It's nice to see you getting over that jerk.”

  Had she been singing? She did feel more cheerful though and she smiled at her friend. “The séance was long, but the guy came through eventually.” An image of inky black hair and dark blue eyes tugged at her memory. “Would you believe, this cowboy appeared too? I mean, really appeared. We all saw him.” His voice reminded her of the pan of chocolate melting on the stove, and she stirred the mixture, examining the consistency.

  “A cowboy? In backstreet Manchester? Was he going to a fancy dress party or something when he died? Poor sod.”

  “He looked real.”

  Lisa giggled as she went to serve a customer, leaving Summer to her work. Creating quality handmade confectionary had been her dream job for years, but until her little shop became established, the séances were a lucrative sideline. Last night had been a success for Alice and would hopefully generate some more appointments.

  Snapping back to the job at hand, she lifted the spoon and watched as the drips splashed back into the vat. The words ‘poor sod’ in no way described the rather luscious Jack McKane. She wondered if he'd liked chocolate when he was alive. How would it feel to smear melted ganache across those fine lips and then kiss it off again? Her nipples tingled at the image. She swiped her index finger across the back of the spoon and raised it to her mouth.

  Dark, sultry and sweet. Just like her cowboy.

  Chapter 5 – Teasing

  Summer lay in bed with her eyes closed, waiting for the moment when she'd tumble over the edge. And there it was. The instant she felt a hard, warm body snuggled against her back, she knew she was sleeping. One large, slightly calloused hand splayed across her bare stomach, and she trembled with anticipation. Hot breath feathered along her neck. She couldn't hold back a whimper. A deep male chuckle rumbled against her back. Dream-Rob was even better than Real-Rob.

  She felt her hair being moved, the heavy curtain lifted and soft lips pressing a series of tiny kisses on the delicate skin beneath. Fingers brushed across her hip bone, smoothed down the cheek of her ass and skirted along the inside of her thigh, teasing all the way. She groaned and squirmed, pushing back and thrilling at the sensation of his cock digging into butt cheek. She was ready, but he still wanted to play. Rob never used to be such a tease.

  “Now,” she whispered. He ignored her. She grabbed his wandering hand and placed it directly over her pussy, groaning at the touch and half mad with desire. In a heartbeat, he flipped their hands the other way round so that it was her fingers underneath, and his in charge. He trapped her hand, holding it still a moment longer, then guided them both lower, to glide across her slit. Her fingers were drenched. She swallowed hard and then bucked as he pushed her deeper, surging inside.

  In and out; her hand was no longer her own. He drove her on, plunging and pounding, before allowing her a fleeting caress over her clit. She trembled under his touch. It felt as though her bones were melting, as though she’d dissolve under his fingers. His mouth roamed across her neck, her shoulders. A nibble here, a lick there. A bite on the tender skin at the crook of her neck. The breath caught in her throat. Oh God, please do that again. She felt him fisting his free hand in her hair, while his teeth dug into her. She was impaled, immobilised and on fire for him. Another brush against her hard bud – his thumb? – and she cried out as she gave herself to a quivering, sobbing climax. He licked away the sting from his bite and soothed her with another kiss, his mouth trailing down her spine.

  Her sodden, sticky hand was released, and she flexed her fingers before catching hold of him. She wanted him to cuddle her breast again, wanted to sleep in his arms.

  ***

  Daylight crept in, and Summer lifted heavy eyelids to feel a weight pressing the mattress behind her. For a second she froze, and then she remembered. “Naps, is that you, baby?” A grunt answered her. With some difficulty, since the duvet was securely anchored in place, she managed to roll over to see her young pug stretched out beside her.

  He licked her hand when she fondled his ears, and she dropped back to the pillows. Maybe having Naps on the bed had made her dream of Rob? How pathetic did that make her?

  It was only later, in the shower, that she realised her neck hurt. She paused, ignoring the water running over her face and the shampoo threatening to drip into her eyes. When she pressed against the tendons, it felt like a bruise.

  Exactly where Dream-Rob had bitten her.

  Chapter 6 – Salted Caramel

  There had to be a rational explanation. Summer was convinced.

  She'd bumped herself somehow. Hurt her neck shifting boxes, lifting cartons of chocolate, walking into a door…and then imagined being bitten in the same place. Yeah, right. Apart from that, she felt fine. Better than fine, since she'd given herself such an amazing orgasm the night before.

  She brushed off Lisa's curiosity about her bouncy mood and stayed in the kitchen all day, experimenting with new flavours and fillings. Salted caramel almond sounded divine, but getting the texture right was a painstaking process. The nuts had to be ground finely enough to bind into the liquid caramel, but with enough texture to give them some bite. It still wasn't perfect by closing time, but she had to leave it. She had another séance booking for that evening and, this time, Lisa was going with her.

  Summer, Lisa and the client – a middle-aged woman called Ellie who wanted to contact her recently dead father – settled around a small table in the client’s kitchen. The candles burned smoothly, their hands were linked and Summer had barely started to call in her head, when the cowboy appeared.

  He stepped up to the table as calmly as though he'd walked through an invisible door. “Hello, darlin’.” His smile was for her alone, and his honeyed words washing over her made her stomach flip. .

  Summer tried to hide her excitement. This time she wanted to keep him here longer, keep him talking.

  “Hello, Jack. Nice to see you.”

  He wore the same clothes as last time, the same wicked grin and look… That sexy little dimple flashed enticingly again. Her thoughts drifted towards salted caramel and doing sticky things with messy fingers. Her mouth dry and her nipples on full alert, she tried to order her wayward imagination. “We're looking for Peter Fry this time. Can you help us?”

  He stepped closer and then raised both arms above his head, stretching, before yawning. “Every time I dream about you, Shu-gah, you ask me some strange things.” He reached the edge of the table, mere inches away from them.

  Summer feasted her eyes on his image. He looked solid – real – as though he wer
e flesh and blood. She could practically feel the warmth pouring from his skin.

  Hang on, what had he just said?

  “You think you're asleep, Jack?”

  “Well, sure.” His smile dazzled her, literally made her weak at the knees. “How else could you be here? You're hauntin’ my dreams, darlin’.” He moved to the side and stood next to her, close enough to touch.

  Summer heard Lisa's steady breathing, felt Ellie's palm sweating in her own, but ignored them both, every atom focused on the man staring at her.

  “I hope I didn't hurt you last night. You sure are a pretty little thing, Sum-mah.” Slowly, gently, he lifted one hand, touched her braid and stroked gossamer light over her hair.

  She felt it.

  Like standing next to an electricity pylon, she tingled all over. The breath caught in her lungs, the words dying in her throat. She blinked – and he was gone. What the… She looked down. Her hands were still linked with the other women’s, the candles burning. Lisa and Ellie stared at her with matching bemused expressions.

  “Did you see him?” It came out as a squeak.

  Lisa shrugged. “See who? We're still waiting for you to start.”

  Chapter 7 – Just a dream

  Summer found herself standing by a creek, plains stretching out as far as the eye could see. Everything gleamed under a high, full moon. Despite the fact that it was night time and she only wore a strappy vest and jeans, she was warm. A snuffling noise made her turn to see a horse grazing close by. He lifted his head and blew at her before resuming his lazy meal.

  She sucked in a deep breath, amazed at the unfamiliar smells: horse, a heavy, honey scent and wood smoke. Spinning lightly on her feet, she saw the smouldering remains of the campfire mere yards away. Beside it, sat a now familiar man.