Dark Attraction: The Corde Noire Series Page 2

  Taking her milk back to the breakfast bar, Sam greedily ripped open the package of Oreos. Snatching up a cookie, she held it to her lips. If only they made vodka-flavored Oreos, her life would be damn near perfect.

  * * *

  Later that night, after she had opted to eat almost the entire package of Oreos, Sam was in bed fast asleep when an incessant banging woke her.

  “Not again,” she groaned. “Damned ghosts are always ….” She listened to the noise. It was different from the other times.

  Sitting up, she realized the disturbance was coming from next door. It sounded less like the ethereal knocking she was used to, and more like the pounding of a hammer. Glancing at the iPhone next her bed, she saw it was well past one in the morning.

  “First ghosts, now a noisy neighbor.” Sam slammed the phone down on her bedside table.

  Staring incredulously at the wall, she figured there was no point in shouting at the new tenant to stop. This would have to be dealt with face-to-face.

  Yanking aside her covers, Sam turned on the bedside lamp. Glancing about the bedroom with its matching oak table and the second-hand dresser, purchased at a local flea market, she spotted her pink terry cloth robe on the bench at the foot of her trunk bed.

  The banging was even louder in her living room. “What in the hell is this asshole doing?”

  Once in the hallway, she left her front door open as she made the short trek to her neighbor’s door.

  With clenched fists, she knocked gently above the letter B painted in gold on his oak door. At first, she heard nothing. Then there seemed to be some commotion, as if things were being tossed around. She swore a curse word or two were uttered, and then the door flew open.

  Holy shit, she almost said out loud when she saw the man in the doorway.

  Towering over her in only a pair of faded jeans, his abs were the first thing her brain registered. Rippled, chiseled, and utterly defined, he was beyond being in good shape … he was fucking perfect. His arms were muscular, his skin was tan, his chest was wide, and she ached to run her hands over his well-proportioned pecs. However, when her gaze rose to his face, her enthusiasm fizzled.

  With arctic blue eyes and an impatient sneer on his lips, he appeared far from friendly. His wavy hair was thick and a rich shade of dark brown. He had an edgy face. Not handsome, not cute, but mesmerizing. His eyes drew her in first, then his lips, and by the time Sam was admiring his perfectly carved jaw, she was captivated.

  “Can I help you?”

  He had a bewitching voice. It was deep, hypnotic, and something like a foghorn on the river in the middle of a misty night.

  Damn it. Focus.

  “Ah, I live next door, and you woke me up.” She pointed to her open door.

  “You’re my neighbor? From apartment A?”

  That velvety voice was lulling her into a false sense of lust. “Ah, yes, and you were banging on the wall.”

  His eyes went up and down her figure. She wondered why she suddenly felt cold and then realized her robe had fallen open, showing off her short nightshirt. Grabbing at the robe, she quickly covered herself.

  “Look, I’d appreciate it if you could save the decorating for the day,” she got out, trying not to turn red. “I’m a nurse, and I’ve got day shift all this week. I really need my sleep.”

  He folded his arms over his chest, and Sam thought her heart was going to explode. “Sorry. I was just getting something set up.” He held out his hand. “I’m Doug, by the way. Doug Morgan.”

  She took his hand. It was warm, thick, and she instantly got a sense of his strength. “I’m Sam, Sam Woods.”

  His eyes were studying her face, making her toes curl. “What’s the Sam stand for?”

  “Samantha, but I hate the name.”

  He grinned. It was one of those mischievous grins that hinted at the bad thoughts motivating it. “Well, I know what to call you from now on, Samantha.”

  She gaped at him. Seriously? The only neighbor on her floor and he was going to be an absolute shit. She shook her head. “Look, just please keep the banging to daytime hours when I’m not home. You can renovate to your heart’s delight then.”

  Feeling the need to make a hasty exit, she turned for her door.

  “I’ll keep it down just for you, Samantha.”

  She stopped at her door and turned to him. He was standing in the hallway, watching her. Sam got an uncanny feeling, like they had met before, but she had never met anyone with those abs … ah, eyes.

  “It’s Sam, just Sam, Mr. Morgan.” Hurrying inside, she slammed her door. “I am so screwed.”

  This was not what she needed. It was bad enough he was a fantasy in the flesh, but his attitude was going to bother her immensely. Why couldn’t he be great looking with a wonderful personality to match?

  “Then he’d be married,” she mused. “The good ones always are.”

  The next day at work, Sam could not stop yawning. After her encounter with her attractive neighbor, she kept listening for more activity in his apartment. About the time she did get to sleep, her alarm went off.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Piper, the unit respiratory therapist, asked.

  A stunning blonde with a body to match, Piper sauntered up to Sam’s chair set between her two patient rooms.

  “Didn’t get much sleep last night. Neighbor woke me up banging on the walls.”

  “Is this the new guy Brenda told me about?”

  Sam checked her patient’s monitor through the glass wall of his room. “What did she do, pick up the phone and call you when she saw the moving van?”

  Piper snapped off her rubber gloves. “No, she called me about the poker game Saturday night, and then mentioned there was some new guy moving into the building. You know Brenda. She was sizing up a potential sugar daddy.”

  “Still can’t believe you two are related.”

  “Technically, she’s my half-sister. My dad was married four times.” Her brown eyes took in Sam’s face. “So have you met this new neighbor?”

  “Last night when I went to ask him to stop banging on the wall.” Sam rolled her eyes. “Total dick.”

  “I had one of those when I lived in the Quarter. Some guy next door to me liked to have satanic rituals at two in the morning every Sunday. Real pain in the ass.”

  “When was this?”

  Piper tossed her gloves in a nearby garbage can. “When I was living with George, the musician.”

  “Was he before or after the horse trainer?”

  “Ely was the horse trainer, and he came before.” Piper wiped her hands on her scrub pants. “It wasn’t all bad in the Quarter, though. That’s where I met Randy, the Dominant.”

  “Yeah, I remember him.” Sam knitted her brow, recalling the details. “He’s the one you said liked tying you with rope and hanging you from the ceiling.” She shook her head, laughing. “I still have a hard time picturing how the two of you had sex that way.”

  “Very carefully.” Piper giggled, but somehow the sound didn’t quite match her muscular exterior. “He led me to my Roger. Been with him for almost two years now.” She raised her arm and showed off her well-developed bicep. “Without Randy, I would never have discovered weight-lifting.”

  Sam reached for her paperwork on a table. “Still don’t know how you juggled all of those men.”

  “Juggling men has never been a problem. It’s when they start juggling you with other women that it’s time to move on.” She stared at Sam for a few seconds. “How come I’m always talking about the men I’ve been with, but you never tell me shit?”

  Sam shrugged. “Because I’ve only had one boyfriend, you already know that.”

  She eased in closer to Sam’s table. “Boyfriend, yeah, I know about him. I’m talking about lovers.”

  “Lovers?” Sam swallowed hard. “Come on, Piper. I’m not as ….” Be diplomatic, Sam. “Experienced with men. Besides, men never like me. Most just see right through me.”

  “Girl,
you need glasses. Didn’t you see the way that patient’s son was checking you out a few weeks back? The super-hot guy.”

  Sam drew a blank. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  “Sam, are you that dense? The guy couldn’t take his eyes off you. He looked like he was going to rip off your clothes and go down on you in the ICU.”

  Sam laughed out loud. “I think I would have remembered that, Piper.”

  “Shame his mother got better. It was worth having her in here just to get my daily eye candy. That was a very fine man.”

  An alarm went off in a patient’s room and Sam stood from her chair. “I think you’ve hit your man quota, Piper.”

  “Never. As long as I’ve got eyes, I’ll keep looking.” Sam was about to go into her patient’s room when Piper added, “Hey, what do you feel about Mr. Ellison in bed two?”

  Sam frowned and then rushed to her patient’s bedside. As she tried to get the IV machine to stop beeping, Piper eased up to her side.

  “I wouldn’t ask unless ….”

  Sam silenced the noisy IV machine and pulled Piper away from her patient’s bedside. “I should never have told you about that.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Piper raised her voice and then looked to the patient sleeping in the bed. “You’ve got a gift, Sam. You need to use it to help others.”

  “How can sensing the dead help anyone?”

  Piper grasped her arm. “His family is having a hard time. If they knew what was coming, it might help them to prepare.” She let go of her arm. “Please, Sam. What do you see?”

  Sam sucked in a pensive breath and relented. The cold fingers of death had been encroaching on her space all morning. In her mind, there was darkness enveloping bed two in the ICU. Buried in the darkness, there were faces. For Sam, the faces only meant one thing … loved ones waiting for their family member to cross over. She had seen it time and time again. The dead always returned to escort the newly departed to the other side.

  “By this evening he’ll be gone,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “If not sooner.”

  Piper gave a curt nod of her head. “Thank you. You really should take that gift of yours on the road, or get a website.”

  “Seeing the dead has been more of a hindrance than a help. I try to ignore it.”

  “But you can see another world so many of us long to know. To see loved ones who—”

  “You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone, even Brenda,” Sam cut in.

  “I haven’t told a soul, Sam. Promise. I just think … imagine all those you can help.”

  “I can’t help anyone. I’m a freak. You have no idea of the hell I’ve endured because of ….” Sam waved across the ICU. “You’d better go to Mr. Ellison’s family. There isn’t a lot of time.”

  Piper left the room, and the same old pull of regret tugged at Sam’s heart. Ever since she could remember the dead had been there, lurking in the shadows, haunting her. If anything, her career in medicine had heightened her ability.

  Having a seat at the table she had set up outside of her patient’s room door, Sam returned to her paperwork. She contemplated why she had been given such a skill. What good had it done her, or anyone else, for that matter? When family members came to visit in her ICU, she tended to avoid them, afraid of what she would see.

  Running her hand across her forehead, she questioned if the stress of her job was starting to weigh on her. Or could her sudden moodiness be due to a lack of sleep brought on by her sexy new neighbor?

  Reviewing her paperwork, Sam became sidetracked by flashbacks of Doug Morgan’s great abs.

  Concentrate.

  She didn’t need someone taking her focus away from work. Her job was all she had. Nothing like a man to screw everything up.

  * * *

  It had been a long twelve-hour shift. Sam’s feet were tired, and she swore she would hear that beeping IV machine in her sleep. The patient who had been transferred to her unit during the afternoon had been in pretty bad shape, dominating her every minute … but she knew he would survive. Tragically, Mr. Ellison had passed away shortly before four that afternoon. When he had breathed his last, Sam saw his spirit leave his room. Surrounded by the faces of loved ones, he had given her a kind smile before vanishing into thin air. They always did that, smiled before they moved on. She just wished she couldn’t see them. Knowing people were going to die was bad enough.

  When she stepped in the lobby of The Shallows, that uncanny cold enveloped her.

  Help me, swirled inside her head.

  “Give it a rest, Hal, will you?” she muttered, approaching the security desk.

  The gentle spirit of the black man in chains appeared in her mind’s eye, only to quickly fade from view. He had been there since the first day she had stepped into the lobby of the converted warehouse. The building had a gruesome past and had been the scene of many atrocities. Hal had been only one of the lost souls Sam had encountered in the building. There were many. Some stronger and more vibrant, but even the faintest spirits were evident to Sam.

  Hurrying to the silver elevator doors, Sam ached for a hot bath, a cold beer, and a long night’s sleep. Inside the car, she waited as the elevator doors closed.

  Hello, Sam.

  There it was again. The faintest whisper of a man, someone Sam swore she knew but could not place. The voice had been there for the past few weeks. Like a faint echo it had lingered in the elevator car, along with the aroma of a man’s cologne.

  “I’m too tired to listen,” she insisted. “Another time perhaps.”

  Then the air in the elevator grew heavy, as if the car had sunk deep into the ocean.

  Find me, floated through her head.

  Thankfully, the elevator doors opened before Sam had to endure any more ghostly taunting. She followed the burgundy carpet along the hallway that led to her apartment. Passing the flickering wall sconce right before her door, she considered skipping her bath and falling right into bed. While putting her key in the lock, Sam got the unnerving feeling that she was being watched. Looking around, she discovered Doug Morgan standing in front of his door, staring at her.

  “Good evening, Samantha.”

  She cringed. Her unflattering name being said by that smoky voice was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat.

  Taking in his tailored suit—thank God, his lethal abs were covered up—Sam hardened her resolve against him. His suit was a dark shade of gray, making his blue eyes dance in the soft light. Great, now she was going to fantasize about those eyes of his.

  “Mr. Morgan,” she returned with a curt nod of her head.

  “Coming home from work?” He waved down her blue scrubs as he approached her door.

  “Ah, yeah,” was all she managed to get out before her mouth dried up.

  “Where do you work?”

  She directed her eyes to her door, fighting with the stubborn lock. “The LSU Interim Hospital in ICU.”

  He came up to her. “Nurse?”

  She detected an alluring fragrance; cedar mixed with musk, mixed with something citrusy. Shit, is that his cologne?

  “Yeah, I’m a nurse.” She pushed her door open a little too hard. It bounced off the doorstop in the wall, coming back to almost hit her in the face before Doug reached out to stop it.

  “Careful.” He gently eased the door open for her.

  “Ah, thanks.” She pulled her key from the lock.

  “I have the utmost respect for nurses.” He stood in her doorway … hell, he took up most of her doorway. “People who go into the healing arts are so selfless.”

  That made her snort. “Not all of us. I know quite a few selfish doctors and nurses.”

  “But they aren’t you.” He rested his shoulder against her door frame, his eyes steadily drinking her in. “I have a feeling you give everything you have to your patients.”

  Those eyes were turning her insides to jelly. “That’s why I get paid the big bucks.”

  “I’d like to hear
more about what you do and why you became a nurse.”

  She gaped up at him. “Why do you want to know that?”

  His deep chuckle made Sam’s knees tremble. “Can’t a man get to know his neighbor?”

  How could she tell him that getting to know him would be painful for her? Not getting close to anyone had been a steadfast rule for her over the years … until Piper. Even then, she wondered how long she had before having to sever those ties. People were usually freaked out by someone who could see the dead. Sam was convinced Doug Morgan would prove to be no different.

  Sam retreated inside her door, putting some distance between them. “It’s been a long day for me, Mr. Morgan.”

  His eyes registered a hint of disappointment. “I understand. I’m keeping you.”

  Don’t shove him away, Sam. Not this one.

  “No, it’s not you. I just had a difficult patient and didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” I didn’t just say that, did I?

  “I promise no more banging on the walls, Samantha.”

  “It’s Sam, Mr. Morgan. Just Sam.”

  “Then I’m just Doug.”

  Trying to hide her smile, she dropped her head. “Well then, good night … just Doug.”

  He stepped into the hallway and put his hand on her doorknob. “Lock the door after me. I need to make sure you’re safe.”

  Doug gently closed her door, leaving Sam dumbfounded.

  Safe? Was he serious?

  The light from the hallway shone beneath her door, and she could see his shadow lingering at her feet. Flipping the dead bolt, she waited until he moved away.

  The entire encounter had left her delighted and yet a little on edge. He had a formal manner to him that she wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. Had he been flirting with her, or was he just being neighborly? She was so out of practice with men she had no idea if he was flirting or exhibiting behavior attributed to serial killers.