It's In His Kiss

“Are you okay, sir?” the desk clerk asked from down below.

“I’m, uh, fine. Just fine. For a minute, I thought…” He dropped his hand. “Nothing.” And then he started back up the stairs.

It took her a second or two to collect herself, but then Rosebud made up her mind. Miss Arlotta had ordered her to stick with the bride, but she didn’t care. There was no way she was running over to the suite to check on the odious Vanessa, no matter how hard Miss A came down on her later for neglecting her duty.

“I’m sticking with him,” she whispered, hustling along to catch up.

By the time she got to the small room at the back of the third floor, he had his suitcase open on the bed to unpack. Rosebud hung back by the door, afraid to touch him or get in his way after that scary encounter on the stairs.

Who knew what might happen if their atoms collided? Would she burst into flame?

As she looked around, she realized she hadn’t been in this room in quite a while, preferring to spend her time in her hideaway in the attic. But it was a pretty room, especially since they’d renovated it along with the rest of the hotel. Now it had an antique sleigh bed in glossy cherry wood, a matching dresser and mirror and a lovely armoire that held the TV and minibar. Plus Ned. She smiled. Who could ask for anything more?

Busy unpacking, he didn’t seem to notice the extra presence in the room. Rosebud flitted around the corner to check out the marble bath and sink and then back into the main room, poking her nose into Ned’s toiletries and accoutrements. She told herself she was filing away information for later use, but the truth was, she was greedy for knowledge about Ned.

Ooh, he’d unpacked a tuxedo. Basic black, with a white formal shirt and a small black tie. She could only imagine what Ned would look like in that. A lot like Edmund, probably. She swallowed. She had, of course, seen Edmund in formal evening wear quite a few times, and the sight had been devastatingly handsome. But Ned…Ned was even better.

As he crossed to the phone, leaving a message for someone about picking up his tuxedo to take to the cleaners, she couldn’t hold herself back. She slipped over to finger the tucks down the front of his formal shirt, leaning into the closet, inhaling the scent of him that clung to his clothes. She began to pick through the hangers. Button-down shirts, a suit jacket in a smooth wool…

“I’m losing it,” he said out loud, taking a step toward the closet. “First I hear my name and there’s nobody there, then that weird thing on the stairs, and now my clothes are moving all by themselves.”

Ooops. She hadn’t realized she’d lifted the sleeve of his suit jacket up to her nose. As unobtrusively as she could manage, Rosebud let it drop back into place. She edged her way around the outside of the room, skirting carefully around Ned to the window next to the bed. Quietly she eased it open, letting in the cool mountain air. On the other side of the room, Ned was fixated on the closet, moving one hanger at a time, staring at his clothes as if he expected them to sprout wings.

Rosebud flailed her arms around, whipping up the lace curtains at the window. Gaining speed, she swooshed around the room a few times like the spirit of the North Wind. She even made a slight howling noise. It was the best she could think of on short notice.

Ned spun around. “Oh. The window’s open.” He sighed with relief. “Just a stiff breeze. Of course there’s a rational explanation.”

Of course. As he shut the window and pulled the curtains closed, Rosebud sighed with relief. Trying to stay out of the way and not get into any more trouble, she stretched out on the sleigh bed, careful not to squash the pillow or make an indentation.

It was strangely enjoyable simply watching Ned move around the room. The other girls were always snickering about some fine manly form or other, but she hadn’t paid attention in a long, long time. But now that she looked, she had to say, man-watching did make for a good show. The play of muscle under his shirt was very interesting. And the sight of his trousers, stretching against his tight bottom when he bent over to put away his socks…Mmmm…

Shameless, she told herself as she ogled his derriere. And not fair to Ned. Why, Rose, you’re no better than a voyeur.

He dumped the contents of his pockets on the dresser with a jingle of keys and change. Then there was a snap as he unbuckled his belt, and her breath caught in her throat. Why was he undoing his belt?

Oh, dear. Belt. Off. Tossed aside. And his hands moved to the bottom edge of his sweater, sliding it up an inch or two over his flat stomach. At the first glimpse of bronzed flesh, Rosebud’s eyes widened. What was he doing? He wasn’t going to undress, was he?

Why, yes he was. Rosebud went very still as he peeled off his shirt and tossed it toward the bed. Right on top of her. She didn’t move, but she did finger the fine silk knit where it slid sensuously over her hip. And she hungrily drank in the sight of him, naked to the waist.

She had forgotten how gorgeous a man could be. Ned’s skin gleamed, tanned and smooth in the golden light from the antique lamp on the dresser, and her eyes trailed over his hard chest and torso, ridged with muscle. There was a fine line of dark hair trailing between his ribs, disappearing into his pants. Her mouth watered. Did men look this delectable back in her day?

Ned stopped. His gaze skimmed right over her where she lay on the bed, and he frowned. “Why is there a bump under that shirt?”

Bump? A bump like her? What should she do? Slip out from under the shirt while he was watching, making it clear the unseen lump had moved away and something spooky was going on in his room? Or stay where she was, even if he advanced on her and felt under the shirt? His hand would go right through her while she was invisible. At least she thought it would.

Her heart beat faster, and she couldn’t think. Did she want him to touch her, to connect his protoplasm to her ectoplasm, to shock them both down to their toes, even if it meant some irreversible explosion of particles and electricity?

Oh, yes. Right now, after watching him undress, she was totally willing to risk it.

Foolish, foolish girl to get herself in this position. She felt her body suffuse with warmth under his intense gaze, and she had the terrible suspicion that a wash of hot color would show up there on his bed, like a reclining girl-shaped pool of pink. She glanced down but didn’t see anything. She’d never blushed before when she was invisible. How did she know what might happen?

Just when she thought she might pop from the strain, Ned’s phone rang. He jumped, she jumped, and his shirt slid off her hip at the exact moment he turned toward the phone. Saved by the bell. Rosebud was off his bed and safely huddled on top of the armoire, hiding up next to the ceiling, before he’d even answered it.

“Hello,” he said impatiently. But then his voice changed to a much warmer tone. “Hi, Uncle Jerry. Thanks so much for setting everything up. We really appreciate you making it happen. Your hotel is wonderful.”

She couldn’t hear what was said on the other end, but she could imagine. Blah blah blah best wishes on your upcoming nuptials…

“Listen, I will see you tomorrow, right? Yeah, the rehearsal dinner.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m supposed to be meeting Van for dinner tonight—some French place an hour from here—and I don’t want to be late, so…”

Something Uncle Jerry said got a laugh out of Ned. Rosebud rolled her eyes. Something amusing about the joys of coping with Vanessa, no doubt.

But Ned looked distracted as he spun back around, still holding the receiver. He peered at the bed, where the shirt he’d been wearing, the one that had landed on Rosebud, now lay flat. His expression grew even more perplexed. “Uncle Jerry, did you say there were stories about this place being…” He paused. “Haunted?”

Rosebud tried not to giggle. It was just the look on his face, as if someone were poking him with sticks and forcing him to ask that question. So Neddy boy was embarrassed to ask about things that went bump in the night. It was kind of sweet. Of course, she hadn’t believed in ghosts, either. Until she became one.

“No, honestly, I’m a total skeptic,” Ned said quickly into the phone. “I was starting to think there was something weird going on around here, but…Can’t be. That would just be stupid.”

He forced another laugh. “Aw, I’m sure you’re right. Just stress from the wedding. You and Aunt Win always have known me better than anyone else.”

Aw, how sweet. When she was young and desperate for guidance, it would’ve been nice to have a kindly aunt or uncle to turn to.

“Your support has meant everything to me, I want you to know that,” Ned continued. “I know I’ve been strange lately. I never thought I was the marrying kind to start out with, so this is all…”