Stacey Joy Netzel Boxed Set by Stacey Joy Netzel Read Free Book Online Page B

her
fists and glared up at the heavens. “Not now! You can’t take him
yet! Not now that I’ve finally—”
    “Melanie.”
    Andrew’s gentle voice cut through her
anguish. She looked back at him and was relieved to see he’d
stopped fading away. He now stood before her, brighter than ever
before.
    “From the bottom of my heart, I thank
you.”
    And then he was gone. Disbelief warred with
cruel reality. Melanie dropped to her knees as fresh tears
flowed.
    I love you .
    Her head jerked up at the sound of his
voice. She whirled around, but saw nothing other than the mountains
and the trees and the tombstones—
    The tombstone!
    With her heart beating frantically, she
rushed to his grave and touched the granite. Cool . No, not
just cool— cold . She flattened her palm over his name,
willing it to warm beneath her touch.
    She remembered his dry remark about her
summoning him. Yes, damn it, that’s exactly what she was doing
now.
    “Andrew? Please.”
    But by the time darkness fell, she had to
face the fact that Andrew would not return that night. The stone
remained cold and the air had turned chilly as well. She made her
way home with a heavy heart and crawled into bed to await the
dawn.
    Something had changed with their kiss. That
wonderful, beautiful, soul-melding kiss. But the way he’d said, “Thank you,” —she feared she’d never see Andrew’s ghost
again.
     
     

Chapter Six
     
     
    Melanie called in sick to work for the first
time in twelve years. One day. She’d give herself one day to mourn
her loss and then she’d have to move on with her life. The only way
she could be so stoic about the situation was to keep reminding
herself that Andrew had assured her all was okay.
    His soul had found peace, as it should. As
he deserved.
    Today, she planned to go to the cemetery for
a final goodbye, then find John to talk about her idea of writing
the book. She would not go back on her word to Andrew that the
world would know the truth about what happened. She already knew
the title: If Tombstones Could Talk . No longer would the
local historical society debate good and evil in the name of Andrew
Lindeman.
    The walk to the cemetery took forever and
yet did not give her enough time to prepare. Hoping against hope,
she halted beneath the giant red oak and knelt beside the
tombstones. She felt the plain rock first. Cold . But it
always had been. It was the other stone, the tall one placed with
her family’s love that had always warmed with his presence.
    Her hand trembled as she reached
forward.
    She traced the A in Andrew, then flattened
her palm over his name. Nothing happened. Head hung low, she kept
her hand there and said a prayer for his soul. She’d expected
tears, even brought tissues, but her eyes remained dry. Her heart
hurt, but not as bad as she’d thought. Knowing he finally rested in
peace eased the ache.
    She wasn’t sure how long she knelt there,
but suddenly the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on
end.
    “I hoped you’d come back.”
    Her heart nearly stopped at the sound of his
deep, sexy voice directly behind her. Holding her breath, she rose
to her feet and slowly turned around. “I had to say good—”
    She stared in shock. Her hand reached of its
own accord, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to touch.
    “My God,” she whispered. “What…how?”
    He lifted his arm—his flesh and blood
arm—and stroked her cheek. His thumb brushed her mouth, parting her
lips as he stepped closer. “I’m just going with the flow here.”
    His head dipped, and she rose on her tiptoes
to meet him halfway. He urged her arms up around his neck, then
skimmed his hands down across her back to pull her tight against
him. As his seeking tongue parted her lips and caressed hers, he
lifted her off her feet in a slow turn. His heat burned her inside
and out, her softer curves molding to his hard contours.
Yesterday’s kiss had been amazing; this one was pure heaven.
    Though she didn’t want the