Spirited Attraction

Inc.

Julia balanced her soft drink

on their shared armrest. You don’t mind if I put this here, do you? I’m afraid if I put my cup on the ground, I’ll kick it over. Oh, and excuse me, but I need to run to the ladies. She blushed. To get cleaned up. I’m not always so messy.

His breath caught. The expression in her golden brown eyes seemed a mix of wary defiance. His dick perked. He stood, wondering if he could hide his interest when she pushed past.

No, not a problem. But I’ll hold your cola for you.

Oh, okay. Yeah, that might be a better idea.

Sam should have been watching her hand instead of getting lost in her gaze. And he probably should have been paying attention to his own actions. That was his first thought when the ice cubes and sticky brown soda from both their drinks caught him in the crotch, waking him to stunned alertness like his alarm clock every Monday morning.

Julia’s hand moved toward his crotch then stopped. Oh, I’m, ah, oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I thought you had your hand on the cup or I wouldn’t have let go. Are you okay? Shoot. Stupid question. Of course you’re not.

Praise for Ashantay Peters

"Ashantay Peters takes matchmaking to a new level with her ghostly tale (SPIRITED ATTRACTION) of love and forgiveness!"

~Lori Waters, author of

CHRISTMAS AT THE REKINDLE INN

~*~

"Ashantay Peters is a gifted writer, and has crafted a scorching romantic comedy (KILTLESS IN CAROLINA) with believable characters who are witty, charming and sexy as all get out."

~Kayden Claremont, author of RED HOT

Spirited Attraction

by

Ashantay Peters

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Spirited Attraction

COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Ashantay Peters

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

Cover Art by Diana Carlile

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2017

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1302-3

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To everyone who believes in ghosts

and the idea that love never dies

Chapter One

The package confronted Julia Wilkinson like a diabolical promise. Delivered that day, the oblong and brown paper-wrapped box represented an unwelcome development.

Prince and Prince, Attorneys-at-Law, Blue Peak, NC, the return address read.

Double whammy. Her parents’ estate lawyers, and a reminder of the town she’d avoided for sixteen years. She’d moved to Charlotte, but maybe she should have relocated to somewhere without mail delivery.

Julia held her breath and studied the packet, afraid to confirm the contents were what she suspected. Her cat rubbed her ankles, purring. She exhaled with a whoosh and her stomach muscles relaxed.

What do you think, Casper? Should I open the package?

Her black cat’s head butted her shins. The accompanying long meow sounded eerily like yessss.

She inhaled. So perhaps the box didn’t hold what she suspected, but it did contain the one thing she wanted to avoid. Her past.

Those hated, ambiguous, teen-aged years. She never should have snooped in her mother’s desk.

Her doorbell chimed, accompanied by rapid knocking.

Jules, you ready?

Julia opened her door, wishing she could shake the feeling that her mother watched her indecision and understood her panic. Instead she greeted her friend, Cooper Phillips, who knew how to pull her out of a funk. Or push her too far. Came with best friend territory.

Cooper strode past her, his six plus feet of bristling, brown-haired testosterone putting her hair on edge rather than soothing her.

Jules, we’ll be late for the game. He swerved and raked his glance over her. You haven’t changed your work clothes, but I guess they’ll do. His eyes narrowed. Wait. I take that back. You’ve got cat hair from your knees to your feet. On both pant legs. He threw his hands in the air. Sam is studly, darling. You don’t want him to think you’ve already devolved into crazy cat lady.

Casper hissed.

Sorry, Casper, but do you really want to share your castle with another feline or forty?

The cat dropped to his haunches and licked a paw, his back to the man.

So come on, Jules, we don’t have time to waste. Let’s get you out of those pants.

Julia snorted then batted her eyelashes. You’re the man for me, Coop. Let’s stay here and give the game a pass.

She reflected that tonight’s game had more than one meaning. Cooper had been angling to set her up with his work colleague for two weeks. She’d finally capitulated, and didn’t life suck to drop that too-innocent looking package on her doorstep the same day she’d agreed to meet studly Sam.

Although heading out would allow her to ignore the brown-wrapped bit of potential heartache lying on the table. Cheered, she hugged her friend then whirled for her bedroom.

And don’t even think about wearing those saggy jeans and oversized tops you live in. You have a toned body, Jules. Why do you spend hours in the gym only to hide the results? Flaunt it, girlfriend.

They’d had this argument too many times for her to get sucked in now. She stood before her color-coordinated racks of clothes and shoes, unsure of what to choose. Damn Cooper for pushing this date. Double damn her inability to say no.

His hand reached over her shoulder and plucked a new midriff baring turquoise shirt from the closet rod.

This, Cooper said, will work. I know it’s not too loose because I bought it. He grabbed a pair of scissors from her nightstand and clipped the dangling price tags.

She checked the ceiling for new cracks. Anything to avoid facing his knowing eyes.

With a long-armed stretch he grabbed a pair of white capris. And these show off your tight ass. If I were you, I’d wear these babies every time I left the house. He snipped the tags from the pants with a flourish.

She craned her neck to check his backside. If your slacks were any more fitted, Jamie wouldn’t let you leave the house.

Who do you think bought them? He likes showing me off. Well, it’s mutual. His wide grinned slipped. Speaking of leaving, we really will be late if you don’t move it, move it.

Thanks for the kiddie movie earworm.

He grinned and fake punched her shoulder. Game. Sam. Jamie’s waiting in the car.

Oh, crap. Okay, I’ll be out in five.

****

Two shimmering masses hovered at the ceiling of Julia’s room, unnoticed by her.

Our baby has a good friend in Cooper, Gordon Wilkinson said to his wife and co-ghost, Lydia.

Yes, she does. He’s right about the clothes, too. Sloppy is as sloppy does. I wish she’d had time to open the box, though. I really want her to read my second letter.

And I wish she didn’t work so hard, he noted.

No regrets, Gordon. We’ve sorted through our issues and come to terms with our life decisions, right? Now our mission is to help our daughter avoid our mistakes.

If only she’ll listen.

Yes, if only.

****

Julia settled into her seat in the stands along the third base side of the baseball diamond. The aisle seat beside her was conspicuously empty, but she’d be damned if she’d ask Coop about his friend Sam. Might be better if studly man didn’t show tonight.

Players ran onto the field, starting their pre-game warm-ups. She exhaled a long breath and relaxed into her seat. Julia liked the ambience of baseball. Thanks to a cooling thunderstorm that afternoon, they enjoyed low humidity on this late-July evening. Even though the temps hovered in the mid-80s, her skin didn’t stick to the seat, a blessing given the area left uncovered by Coop’s clothing choices.

There was nothing like a baseball diamond on a summer’s night. An aroma of cooked meat and warm bread hit her nostrils, followed closely by a loud voice proclaiming, Burgers, get your hot dogs and burgers here.

Floodlights cast their shadowless glow on the diamond, luring moths to their deaths. Swallows swooped and dove for their dinner, and Julia was unsurprised to see several small bats joining the feathered acrobats.

She focused on the team running through their plays. The Charlotte Knights were a Triple A team tied to the Chicago White Sox, and they had some good talent this year. Besides the buff bodies, she enjoyed watching a potential All Star player learning the ropes. But, shoo, they all looked too damn young. For some reason she didn’t want to consider, she felt way too old.

She’d gotten so tangled in her thoughts that when a large male body jostled her arm when sliding into the adjoining seat, she jerked in surprise. Small drops of her drink spilled on her new capris.

Didn’t mean to make you jump, the stranger said. Guess you’d rather be someplace else.

She looked at him, and her jaw dropped.

The look on your face, he said. You were miles away. Guess you wish you were still wherever that was.

Before she could form an answer, Cooper reached across to shake the newcomer’s hand. Glad you made it, Sam. He pointed at her. Julia Wilkinson, meet Sam Bradley.

She nodded without making significant eye contact. Sam? This was Mr. Studly? Coop had to be kidding. Mr. Klutz more like.

She surveyed the newcomer from under her eyelashes. Usually Coop’s idea of studly and hers were close, and she couldn’t deny the quick flash of hunger gripping her innards. Hunger that had nothing to do with gastric juices and everything about fluid a bit further south.

A thin blade of a nose, crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and lips that looked like they’d stretch into a shit-eating grin. She faced forward, her breath quick, but not before resisting a second peek. His wavy brown hair had a layered cut. Dang, this guy was more manicured than she. A third peek revealed a square chin. Shoot. All he needed was a tattoo. Yep, there one was, edging out from under his shirtsleeve, looking all Celtic.

Sam’s knees were pressed up against the back of the seat before him, his legs slightly spread, but not