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Ghost of You
by Kelly Moran

Copyright © 2015 by Kelly Moran. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

It was no secret that Sammy Hanesworth hated him from the first moment he set foot in the Phantoms conference room six months ago. No. Hate seemed too meager a word. She loathed him with the fire of a thousand suns. Yes, that was it.
To Cain McClutchen, the real secret was why, but he wasn’t so sure he’d ever get close enough to find out. It would require three-million SPF sunscreen.
They’d just ended another case two days ago and were sitting in said conference room awaiting orders for their next site. Except Cain and Sammy were the only ones in the room. Their producer, Elise, wanted them alone first before the rest of the team joined them for a briefing.
Cain swiped a hand down his face and tried not to notice Sammy, which was damn near impossible. Short black hair, navy blue eyes, and a heart-shaped face that reminded him of a pixie. A badass pixie. She knew how to level a guy.
Phantoms producers handpicked people who were attractive, poised, and educated. Part of this was to portray legitimacy. The rest was to hook viewers for a long time. It worked. The show was in its sixth hit season. So, yeah. They were all attractive.
But Sammy? Damn, she had this way of making breathing difficult.
He cleared his throat and tried for civility. “Sammy…”
“Yes, bane of my existence?”
Ah, his favorite of her nicknames. She had so many. Freud, Satan. The list was endless. She, however, had yet to actually call him by his real name. The psychologist in him had all kinds of theories as to why. The man in him wanted to hear her say it. Just once.
As he was about to open his mouth and spill something that would no doubt piss her off more, their producer walked in holding a stack of files, which she unceremoniously dropped on the table.
“Hello, my pretties. Let’s get started.”
Sammy’s brows lifted. “Um, we’re the only ones here, Elise.”
Elise darted a glance between the two of them. “I’m aware. I need to speak to you privately. You two are not playing nice in the sandbox.”
Crap. He’d had a gut feeling this was why they were called in here. Though Sammy’s animosity toward him was apparent, she did a pretty bang up job of not showing it on camera, though stuff slipped through. She’d even managed to taper the seething in front of the crew. And Cain reacted by stepping up and challenging her when it was warranted. When she wasn’t confusing the hell out of him.
For the hundredth time, he questioned his decision to join the show. Unlike other paranormal investigation TV programs, Phantoms used the best elements of every competitor and took it a step further. The Phantoms crew didn’t merely stay in a location for a few hours or a night. They were on location for two to four weeks.
Cain liked that they seemed to do everything in their power to get answers. He’d wanted his own doubts assuaged. Add in the fact that the crew only took off the months of July and December, with the occasional weekend here or there, and he was sold. It had gotten to the point where he couldn’t stand his own company. He needed action, a change from his grandmother’s California home and the hypothetical ghosts.
But the team had been a solid unit for years before he joined, and Sammy didn’t want him around. Being unwanted wasn’t new to him, but he was trying to change that. Find a place where he did belong. Phantoms was looking less and less like the solution.
Elise crossed her arms. “The editors are having a bitch of a time cutting your fighting segments. The guys upstairs have caught wind. We need to keep the uniformity of the group, or we’re going to lose viewers. They need to connect with Cain as the new investigator.” She picked up her pen and grinned.
The wicked gleam in Elise’s eyes made his gut turn to ice. He’d seen that look a few times now, and it usually implied something very, very bad was coming. As in they were going to be directed to follow some unpleasant orders. The subtle widening of Sammy’s eyes told him he was right.
Elise clicked her pen. “Ever since Kerry and Paul’s hookup, the ratings are through the roof.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Yeah, this was exactly where he didn’t want this conversation to go. Kerry and Paul, two of their investigators, had turned from friends to lovers a few cases back, breaching their contracts and getting fired in the process. Except the viewers went bonkers and they were rehired, minus the no romance clause in their new contracts.
Sammy ran her hands through her hair and fisted the strands, mumbling incoherently. He shouldn’t find it hot as hell that she argued even with herself.
“So here’s what’s been decided.” Elise kept clicking the pen. “On the next few sites, you two are going to work closely whenever possible. Handcuff yourselves if need be. You can bicker to your heart’s content but don’t cross the line into full-blown fighting. One of two things will happen, according to the bigwigs upstairs. You’ll either start getting along and the problem’s solved, or you’ll light the camera on fire with the sexual tension. Win-win.”
“What?” Sammy’s voice droned with absolutely no inflection. “Are you trying to tell me that…?” She waved her hand in his direction with disgust. “We’re…”
Interesting she’d deny the implied sexual tension with flushed cheeks. The pulse at her neck beat double time. Cain wondered if it was from anger or…something else.
Elise filled in when Sammy obviously couldn’t finish. “Something needs fixing here. Just spend more time together. Work out the issue.”
He looked longingly out the window at the towering skyline of New York City and thought about jumping. It would hurt less than following orders.
Sammy all but growled. “This goes beyond my contract terms.”
Elise’s grin widened. “Your contract states you do whatever the show says, within reason.”
“Exactly,” Sammy wailed. “Within reason. Like missing the birth of my niece because we were in a Virginia cemetery chasing a poet’s spirit. Or not making it home for Easter due to an extended stay at the Reeves mansion when I got pushed down the stairs. By a ghost. This is asking too much.”
“No one’s asking you to get married and spawn. Investigating is part of your job. Just pair up more often with Cain. Like I said, you’ll either get to know one another better and become friends, or you’ll mate like monkeys.”
Or kill each other. Elise forgot that scenario.
Christ in Heaven.
He leaned forward. “Assuming this theory of yours is true, it breeches our contract to get romantically involved.”
“I would never do anything resembling romantic with you.”
Elise stood slowly. “Let me be clear. I no longer care what you do off camera. We got around the clause with Kerry and Paul. They were worth fighting for to keep on the show.”
Direct hit. He was expendable. Memo received. And that still wasn’t an answer.
Elise shifted her files. “The audience needs to see the illusion of uniformity or they need to see sparks. This isn’t unreasonable to ask you to work together.”
Cain sighed and leaned back, unable to argue that point. They did need to work together. The outcome of doing so was just filler for the executives upstairs. Ratings enhancements.
Sammy stood and paced, biting her thumbnail.
“I’m resigning, Sammy.” Elise sighed when Sammy whipped around to face her. “I have ulcers on top of my ulcers, and I want to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa before I get too old to make the trip. I’m done. This is my last season.”
He watched Sammy closely, but he didn’t find concern or sadness on her face. Instead, a hopeful surprise lit her eyes.
“I’ll be recommending you to replace me.”
Sammy squealed.
“If,” Elise amended, “you show me you can handle it. This job is not for the timid, and you have the balls, but it also requires diplomacy.”
He had no idea Sammy was interested in producing, or anything beyond investigating in front of a national audience. He could easily see her in the role, though. She’d kick ass and not bother with names. In fact, every member of the crew had graduated college. Sammy’s degree in communications made sense for her wanting to produce one day. He’d gone into psychology wanting to help others like himself who’d lost loved ones, but he’d only wound up feeling empty. At least Sammy might get to use her degree for what she wanted.
Sammy grinned. “I’ll behave from now on. Thank you.”
“You don’t have the job yet.” Elise grabbed the phone on the conference table. “Send the others in.” She set the receiver in the cradle. “After the meeting, you two are scheduled downstairs for a photo shoot. New promo pics for the site.”
He shifted in his seat. They’d called Kerry and Paul in to do the same thing before the last investigation. The photos were sexy and intended to play up the romance between them now that they were public. If they wanted him and Sammy, that could only mean…
Sammy’s wide blue gaze pinned him from across the table as the rest of the team strode into the room. She swallowed and glanced away, but not before he caught the apprehension and understanding in her eyes.
This was going to suck. On so many, many levels. Because at the heart of it all, Sammy may abhor him, but he liked her an awful lot. She had drive and passion. And she was beautiful. Besides all that, the dark part of him, the part that had been alone and on the outside his whole life, connected to that part of her he’d sensed from day one.
And maybe he was delusional, but he swore she didn’t actually hate him nearly as vehemently as she let on. Sometimes, when she wasn’t paying attention, he caught her heart in her eyes and knew the anger was a shield.
Their techies, Amir and Terrance, walked in and picked up on the tension immediately, their gazes darting between them. Both in their late twenties, they’d been a couple since before the show began. He liked them a lot, too. They’d been very welcoming when he’d first started. Except the way they were looking at him said they saw right through him.
Tom and Earl, the cameramen, sat in a far corner, used to being invisible, while Kerry and Paul took a seat next to Cain. Paul pushed his wire-framed glasses higher on his nose. He was the team historian and the closest Cain had to a friend in the group. Lee, their psychic, was the only one absent.
Paul leaned over. “What’s going on?”
He kept his tone as soft as Paul’s. “Tell you later.”
“Let’s make this fast. I have fifty things to do before we fly out tomorrow.” Elise handed Sammy a file. “We’re heading to Nebraska. I’ll let Sammy tell you the rest. She’s intimately involved in this case.”
Sammy stood. “Just outside Lumbark’s city limits where my family’s farm is, there’s an abandoned church. Also on the grounds are a cemetery and a shell of an old elementary school. In the 1950s, there was a fire in the school. Forty of the two hundred kids inside died. The property was left to the wayside when a new school and church were built on the other side of town. Since then, there has been cult activity and a high number of vagrants in the church. The cemetery is old and predates the church. Most of the graves are from the early 1900s.”
“We haven’t done a church or school in a long time.” Kerry’s gaze shifted to Paul’s and back to Sammy. “Is that why Lee’s not here?”
Sammy nodded. “There was talk of bad juju on the grounds even before the fire. Add in teenagers using the abandoned church for pagan worship and you have possible dark spirits.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. Lee could hear past conversations that once transpired, even from decades before. Ghosts were one thing. This was another. The only cases Lee didn’t participate in were those tied to evil. No one else seemed to be saying the obvious, the one thing frightening enough to scare Lee away.
Cain leaned forward. “We’re talking demons.”
Sammy narrowed her gaze on him. “It’s possible, yes.”
No possible about it.
“Oh boy.” Kerry rubbed her arms, causing her long, blonde hair to shift. She was an empath, of sorts, able to sense other people’s emotions, though not on a psychic level. More intuition. If she was nervous, this couldn’t be good.
Terrance took Amir’s hand in his. “I thought we were staying away from these cases.”
Sammy drew a deep breath. “Normally, I’d agree. But this is my hometown, and…” She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Someone called me in a favor. The man who bought the property is an old friend. He’s a pastor now and looking to renovate the property and rebuild a new congregation.”
An old boyfriend was more like it. Sammy didn’t get nervous. He could attest to that a thousand times over. This case, whatever the tie, was more personal than she liked.
Kerry nodded. “Of course we’ll help. But we’re going to need some kind of protection.”
Paul wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Holy water, the buddy system. If things get too dark, we pull out and wait before going back inside. Evil spirits aren’t like ghosts. They can follow you and aren’t bound to one location.”
Sammy dug in a bag by her feet. “I agree, which is why I bought these for everyone.” She passed out crosses on a thin chain and a small vial of what Cain assumed was holy water. “Keep these on you at all times. Regardless of your religion, they can help. You’ll note that those aren’t just crosses. They’re crucifixes with Jesus’ body. They’ve been known to hold more protection.”
He took the items from her, their fingers brushing in the process.
Sammy looked at each member of the crew, but her gaze skimmed right past his. “I’ll also be bringing pure salt for protection circles, and a Bible. Just play it safe, guys.”
Elise rose and tossed their plane tickets across the table. “Flight leaves at eight sharp tomorrow morning. Any questions? No? Good. Bye.” She strode from the room.
Sammy looked at Paul. “I’ll email you what I have on the background, but it’s not much, I’m afraid.”
Paul nodded. “I’ll dig around.”
“Thanks, you guys. I know we don’t like these dark cases, but this place has been a terrible burden on the town. It would be nice if we could do something to help.”
Kerry leaned over the table and touched Sammy’s hand. “You know we’ve got your back. We’ll do what we can.”
Sammy swallowed hard and slid her hand out from under Kerry’s. She darted a glance toward Cain and quickly away. “I have to get downstairs for a shoot. Catch you guys tomorrow.”
The team started talking among themselves.
Cain watched her walk out and closed his eyes for a beat, steeling his spine for the upcoming case and spending more time with the little firecracker of a pixie. This was so not going to end well.

“Everything okay, sweetie?”
Sammy glanced up at the makeup artist and forced a smile. “Sorry. Lost in thought.”
Amie looked like she didn’t believe her, but she nodded. “Well, you’re all set. Ready to strut your stuff?”
She laughed. She never was one to strut. And man, did she hate these photo shoots. It was one thing to have a camera follow her around at the sites. Most of the time she didn’t even notice. But the “pose here,” “turn your head there” commands were obnoxious.
She loved investigating, loved what they were doing, yet she longed to be behind the camera someday instead of in front of it. The news of Elise retiring sent a giddy bubble rising in her chest. It’s what she’d always wanted. And when it came time for Phantoms to end, she’d have her foot in the door to do her own show.
Elise’s warning popped her happy bubble, though. Being forced to spend more time with Cain was not on her list of desires. In fact, she’d kinda rather have a tooth pulled without Novocaine. Plus, the insinuation of chemistry between them just made her jaw grind.
Mostly because it was true.
She hated herself for it. Cain represented everything she detested and promised herself she’d never do again. No one was going to mess with her head. Leave her vulnerable. She’d barely survived the first time.
Jackson Granger’s resignation at the start of this season had been hard for her, leaving a small hole in her chest. After he fell in love with Ava and chased after his own happiness, Sammy was left missing her best friend and had Cain forced on her in his place. A double whammy. Cain radiated the mannerisms of every psychologist she’d ever met. It made her skin crawl. Because long ago, one of those psychologists tried helping her through the grief of losing her mother in a completely illegal and entirely unethical way.
She shook her head. Never again.
But she had to play nice from now on, or she’d never see her dreams fulfilled. No way was she ever going to return to Nebraska and have her life reduced to being the farmer’s daughter. She’d worked too hard to get here, was so close she could brush it with her fingertips.
Slapping her hands down on the chair arms, she rose and squared her shoulders. Stepping out of the dressing room, she made her way down the hall toward the studio and halted.
Cain was against the green screen in faded jeans and a white tee that stretched across the muscles of his arms and shoulders. The jeans were low on his hips, worn in all the right places and hugging his thighs. He ran a hand through his longish sandy blond hair and grinned at the photographer as they talked. Props and photography equipment were scattered around him. They were testing the lighting with him standing there, and her gaze shifted to the tattoo on his shoulder that worked its way partly up his neck. She couldn’t make out what the ink was, and she hadn’t seen him without a shirt, but she’d been curious.
Wishing the heat in her cheeks would cool, she stepped into view.
“Ah, there’s my favorite girl,” Antonio said, shifting his camera to his other hand and wrapping her in a one-armed hug.
She forced herself not to stiffen at another’s touch and grinned back. “Make me look good.”
He waved his hand. “Pah. I don’t even have to try.”
“Aw. You say the sweetest things.” She glanced toward Cain and back to Antonio. “Where do you want me?”
“Stand next to this sexy beast for now. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Cain choked and covered it with a cough.
Sexy beast. She sighed, internally agreeing. Such a shame just how sexy. She walked onto the white tarp and stood next to Cain, careful not to touch him. The heat from his body and the lights beating down were making her skin charge.
Sammy kept her gaze focused ahead when she spoke to Cain. “How do you comb your hair so the horns don’t show?”
Antonio tsked. “Sammy.”
Cain shook his head. “Don’t mind her. A house just fell on her sister.”
She narrowed her eyes and sent him a seething glare.
Antonio moved around them, ignoring the banter. “That won’t do.” He waved his assistant over. “Get me that footstool. She’s vertically challenged.”
Like she hadn’t heard that a million times. “Very funny.”
Antonio grinned as the assistant placed the stool in front of her and she stepped up, the top of her head now just above Cain’s shoulder. “That’s better. Cain, come up behind her. Good, good. Cain, one hand on her stomach.”
His large hand splayed over her middle, just below her breasts, pressing her closer to his hard body. She sucked in a breath and held it. God, the guy was an Adonis. Lean, rigid muscle and smooth skin. She breathed in the scent of soap and male, ordering her pulse to calm the hell down. A tingle coursed through her belly.
Shit, no. Down, tingle. Down.
“Cain, turn your face toward her, head down, but look right at me.”
Sammy closed her eyes for a brief instant when his lips brushed her hair. It had been a long, long time since her girly bits got this excited, since someone had touched her like this. There certainly hadn’t been witnesses that time, and the guy wasn’t being forced into it.
“Breathe,” Cain whispered against her cheek, his hot breath fanning the shell of her ear.
Fighting a tremble, she released the breath she’d been holding and sucked in another. She swore she felt him grin into her hair.
“That’s so hot.” Antonio clicked several shots. “Sammy, eyes on me. Good, good. Bring your arm up and behind Cain’s head.”
The longer she resisted, the longer this would take. She lifted her arm and brought it back, making it look like his head was cradled in the crook of her arm. The position thrust her chest out, and his fingertips grazed the underside of her breasts before he slowly moved his hand down.
“Sexy.” The shutter clicked repeatedly. “Someone get Sammy the Spectrum Light Box.” His assistant placed the small black box in her free hand and switched it on. A checkered pattern of green laser light lit across their forms. “Sammy, hold it straight out in front of you. Good, good. Offer it to me. Determined expression. Cain, eyes on me.”
Thankfully, Antonio worked fast and the fiasco was over in less than thirty minutes. He clicked through his digital images and nodded. “We’re good. Great work.”
Sammy let out a breath and stepped down, still feeling Cain’s hard body at her back and his touch holding her to him. Itching to get away from him, she headed toward the dressing room. “I’m out then. Great seeing you, Antonio.”
“Wait.”
She stopped. Turned to face Cain with raised brows.
He ran a hand along the back of his neck, his gaze unsure. The lighting made the little green flecks in his hazel eyes more pronounced. “Do you want to grab some lunch?”
Crossing her arms, she studied him. They’d never spent any time alone. She intended to keep it that way. He’d never shown any interest, either. And then it hit her. They were told to play nice. He was trying to play nice. She needed to also.
“I have a lot to do before our flight out, but I could spare an hour, I guess.” A lie. She had nothing to do but throw some clothes in a bag and call her neighbor to water the plants.
He sighed as if he’d been holding his breath and pointed to the elevator. “I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”
She bit her tongue and nodded, watching as he strolled toward one of the dressing rooms, his strides long and eating up the hallway in no time flat. Doing a double take at Antonio’s raised brows, she barked, “What?”
“Nothing.” His lips pressed together, a poor attempt at squelching his grin.
Rolling her eyes, she waved bye to him and made her way to the dressing room to gather her purse and light jacket. Late spring in New York could be unpredictable. It had been raining and damp when she’d arrived this morning. When she came out, Cain was leaning against the wall by the elevators with his head down. Deep in thought, he didn’t seem to notice her arrival. That pensive, somewhat haunted look had passed his face more than one time since they’d met. It shouldn’t get to her, but did.
Before his first case with them, their producer had given the team a condensed version of his history. When Cain was ten, his parents and younger sister had been killed in a home invasion gone bad. He’d been spending the night at a friend’s house. From there, he’d lived with his grandmother. Having lost her own mom when she was sixteen, she was no stranger to loss. Hers couldn’t possibly compare to his, though. She wondered if he was thinking about them now, but she pushed the thought away.
“Ready?”
His head jerked up. “Yeah.” On the ride down, he watched the numbers over the door. “Where do you want to go?”
Ack. Somewhere they could get in and out fast. She didn’t want to spend any more time alone with him than necessary. She was already feeling…sentimental. “There’s the Greek place across the street.”
“Greek it is.” He waved his hand when the doors pinged open, letting her off first.
They exited the building into a light, misting rain and fought traffic to cross the street. He kept a protective hand on her elbow until they made it. He didn’t even seem aware of the gesture, as if ingrained. A measure of guilt crept in at the way they fought, the way she’d treated him in self-defense. She sure hadn’t gone out of her way to make him welcome. He may be a shrink, and she may resent him being brought on the team, but deep down, he seemed like a decent guy.
They ordered pitas and took a booth. The bustle of midday whirled around them as they sat in an uncomfortable silence. She bit back a sigh and looked out the window while chewing.
“Listen, Sammy. I’m sorry.”
The food went down hard as she swallowed. She sipped her water before answering. “What for?” A warning grated her nerves raw, and she knew she wasn’t going to like his answer.
He picked the tomatoes off his pita, obviously choosing his words. He must’ve decided to go for broke because he wiped his hands on a napkin with more force than necessary and looked her in the eye. “I’m apologizing. For whatever I did. For whatever the guy who hurt you did. For the JFK assassination or the botched moon landing. Take your pick.”
It was rare to see him this close to losing it. She’d challenged him quite a bit the past few months, but he’d never snapped. Part of her wanted to grin, but there was a reason he went down this path and she wasn’t having it. “I’m not going to lie down on your proverbial couch, Freud, and spill my secrets.”
He swiped a hand down his face. “Not everything I say has a hidden meaning. I’m a psychologist, and I know that bothers you, but I’m not trying to exploit you. I just…can’t we be friends? Call a truce?”
Friends would mean opening up to him, and that would never happen. A truce she could do, but at some point he had to know why she couldn’t trust him. It was only fair. Weighing her words, she set her pita down, her appetite gone. “There’s a very good reason why I don’t like shrinks, which isn’t your business or your fault. But it is what it is. I don’t trust easily. I haven’t known you long enough to trust you.”
She made a motion to rise, but he grabbed her arm. “I’ve had your back on every case. I’ve proven that. I’d have your back off site, too, if you’d let me.”
Talk about knocking the wind from her sails. Gently, she removed his hand and stood. “I know you mean that, so understand I’m not mad. You fit in well with the group and you’ve stepped up when we needed you.” She sighed. “How you handled that first case, with Kerry and the doppelganger? You did good work. The reason for my reactions is my own, but I’m sorry if I made you feel unwelcome or left out. As long as you respect my space, I call truce.”
He stared at her for several beats, and the emotion in his eyes cut her. For a flicker of a moment, he looked like the scared ten-year-old he must’ve been all those years before. He blinked it away, and when he finally spoke his voice was like sandpaper. “Thank you.”