Haunted On Bourbon Street Part 13

Ian shrugged. "It's possible he does follow you sometimes. These are just the readings we got that day."

"Not what I wanted to hear. I'm going to a.s.sume he stays here in the building." It's what I wanted to believe and let's face it; the scientific readings hardly seemed, well, scientific. "Did you get any interesting readings in the club?"

Ian started bouncing on his heels, going from excited to downright giddy. "Oh, yeah. Look at these."

More photos. Again, pictures of the empty club, then pictures of my silver shadow and me.

"Now look at these." He handed me a third stack.

"Wow, that's weird. Pyper has a shadow too, but hers is a darker gray. Is that a different ghost?"

Ian shrugged. "I'd bet it is the same one."

"Even though the outline is a different color?"

"Yes, ghosts take their energy from those around them, so he would appear different depending on whose energy he's feeding from."

I nodded. Being in the position to feel and sometimes see people's energy, I perfectly understood his explanation. "Okay, but why would he be following both of us around?"

Ian shook his head. "Good question. Maybe he thinks she's s.e.xy."

A sudden bolt of jealousy struck me. I'd come to think of him as my ghost. He invaded my dreams with love and devotion radiating off him each night. So why was he following Pyper around? I knew it sounded crazy, but his emotions were doing a number on me.

Snap out of it, Jade. This is a ghost you're thinking about. Just a dream lover. A very s.e.xy dream lover.

Kane's face flashed in my mind, and suddenly I felt like an idiot. Here I was sitting with Ian, my date, and I was jealous of Pyper over a ghost and thinking of Kane.

I put the whole thing out of my mind. "All right, that's enough ghost talk for now. You ready for dinner?" I asked.

Ian checked his watch. "Yep, our reservation is in twenty minutes." He got up and held a hand out to me.

"You brought me here because it's haunted?" I sipped from my wine gla.s.s and looked around Muriel's, the famous restaurant Ian had brought me to.

"You haven't heard the story?"

"No." I glanced over my shoulder as if I expected a ghost to appear.

Ian laughed. "A lot of the restaurants are said to be haunted. It's unavoidable with the sordid history of New Orleans."

"I bet," I said. "Have you done scientific measurements on any of them?"

"I'd love to, but no, I haven't had the opportunity." He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in. "When I choose a restaurant I always pick one rumored to be haunted, hoping for a sighting."

A shiver ran up my spine. That was the last thing I wanted after my recent experiences. "Do you ever see any?"

"Nothing definitive, but there have been a few occasions that made me wonder." Ian's eyes got big and sparkled with excitement.

"Ever see anything here?" I bit my lip and glanced around again.

"No, but I love coming to check it out. It's said the guy who built this house lost it in a poker game. Before he turned his home over, he hung himself here. People say he still haunts the place. I'd love to get a glimpse of him." Ian craned his neck, studying the exposed inner courtyard.

"See anything?"

"No. Not yet." He twisted around to check behind him toward the front lobby.

I set my almost-empty wine gla.s.s down and signaled to the waiter for more. Great. Just what I needed. A ghost-hunting expedition. A small sigh escaped my lips.

When the waiter came back, I had him leave the bottle.

Ian spent the entire meal giving me a verbal ghost tour of the supposed hauntings in the French Quarter. By the time dessert was offered I'd had enough. It was a rare evening when I wasn't tempted by cheesecake. But I didn't want to continue watching Ian crane his neck, waiting for something unusual to happen. People were starting to stare.

"Ready to go then?" he asked, signing the check.

"Sure. Where to?"

"Frenchmen Street. Let's walk." He held out his hand.

I took it and stifled a groan. I didn't mind walking, really I didn't. In fact I liked it, except when I have my s.e.xy date heels on.

After seven blocks a blister had formed on my left toe, causing a mild limp.

"Are you all right?" Ian asked.

"Oh sure, just not the best walking shoes." I grimaced. It was my own fault. n.o.body drives in the French Quarter. I made a mental note to buy more sensible shoes. Yeah, right.

Embarra.s.sment washed over him. "I'm sorry, Jade. I didn't think about that. We'll take a cab back."

"Sounds good."

"You're gonna love this place," Ian said when we finally made it to the front of a club. "It's one of the best places to hear music and maybe catch a ghost sighting."

Great, just what I wanted to hear. "More ghosts?"

"You never know." Ian took my arm and led me to a table in a corner. After we placed our drink order, he scooted his chair closer and leaned in. "This is nice, right?"

"Sure." The music was slow and soulful, successful in bringing people's emotions to the surface. Mostly they were pleasure-based, but sadness also worked its way in. I put my guards up, wary of being worn down.

Ian slid his arm around my shoulder, letting his fingertips caress my arm. I closed my eyes, enjoying the music and the sensation. This date might still be salvageable.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?"

Opening my eyes, I smiled. "Thank you. You're looking pretty good yourself." Ian had dressed in all black. Black pants, black b.u.t.ton-down shirt and black Converse shoes. It worked for him, highlighting his blond hair and clear blues eyes, now staring intently into mine.

"You are the first woman I've taken out who really gets me," Ian whispered in my ear.

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh. Most of them don't understand the ghost thing."

"As in, don't believe? Maybe they just don't have any experiences with them?"

Ian tilted his head. "Probably. But it's more than that. You accept me for me. That's rare, you know?"

I did know. More than I could explain. I nodded.

"Most women I meet can't accept my pa.s.sion is ghost hunting and not climbing the career ladder. It must be because you're an artist. Your living isn't exactly conventional either."

I laughed. "No, it isn't. But that can't be rare in New Orleans?"

Ian moved a lock of hair from my eyes. "No. Not really. There's something a little bit different about you. I haven't put my finger on it yet. But I like it. I like it a lot."

Heat rose to my cheeks, making me grateful for the dim lighting.

Ian brushed his fingers along my jawline then tilted my face toward his. As he leaned in his eyes flickered slightly toward the stage. "Oh my G.o.d!"

I followed his gaze. "What?"

"Do you see them?"

"Who?"

"The two people on the left? The woman and the man? There's a faint outline of them."

I squinted, searching the stage. I didn't see anything. "I only see smoke."

Ian frowned as he glanced at me.

"Sorry," I said. Though I wasn't. While I understood Ian's excitement, ghosts were not on my list of things I wanted to experience. Enough was enough.

"It's all right. Maybe they'll appear again."

For the next two hours Ian stared diligently at the stage, only speaking to relay tales of previous ghost sightings at the club. After catching me covering up a yawn, Ian reluctantly paid our tab and had the doorman call us a cab.

The ride didn't take long, and within minutes, we pulled up to the corner of Bourbon Street closest to Wicked. As usual, Bourbon Street was barricaded, with the street party in full swing.

"Looks like a busy night," Ian said, helping me out of the cab.

"Looks like it."

"I'll walk you to your building." He put his arm around my waist, guiding me as I hobbled on my blistered feet.

When we reached the building entrance I stopped. "I think I'm safe from here."

"Oh, okay then." His disappointment penetrated my defenses.

"Thank you for the nice evening. Dinner was excellent." At least, the food and wine was.

Ian smiled. "You're welcome. Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"Sure." I pulled the door open. "Goodnight, Ian."

He leaned in, and I automatically turned my head slightly to the left. The kiss landed on my right cheek.

"Night," I said again. "I'll talk with you soon." Before he could say another word I scooted through the entrance door, pulling it closed behind me. Thank G.o.d that was over.

"Have a nice date?"

I jumped. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing? Spying on me?" I glared at Kane.

"Why would I do that?" He backed up in front of the stairwell, effectively blocking me from going to my apartment.

"No idea. But why else would you be skulking in the hallway?"

"I'm not skulking." Kane crossed his arms, a mix of irritation and amus.e.m.e.nt floating around him.

I rolled my eyes.

"How long have you been dating Ian?"

"I'm not dating Ian." What the h.e.l.l? Who did he think he was? I tried to move past him but he put his arm out, blocking me.

"You just went on a date with him. That's dating where I come from."

"Fine, I'm dating Ian." Irritated, I flung a hand out, gesturing to the stairwell. "Can I go up to my apartment now?"

"I didn't picture you with a guy like that." Kane's eyes stayed level with mine.

"You were picturing me with guys?" I smiled, my irritation replaced by smug satisfaction.

"No."

"Okay, sure." My smiled blossomed into a grin. "Excuse me, but these feet are ready for some pampering, so if you'll kindly move-"

"This was, what, the second date?" Kane asked, still blocking the stairwell.

"What? No. The first," I said, caught off guard.

"Huh, I must have been mistaken."

I smirked, remembering the night Ian stayed over. "Why are you so interested?"

"I'm just wondering why." He shrugged.

"Why what, exactly?"

"Why you're dating him?"