"Hmm," I said as I pulled out my notebook to make a notation. "Interesting. Ghosts Summoned at the same physical location can interact physically with each other."

"Evidently," Christian replied, a faint grimace on his lips as he watched Esme rain smacking kisses down on the cat's head.

"What, haven't you ever had a pet?" I asked.

"Several. They all died."

I glanced up at him, struck once again by the pain that darkened his eyes. "What is it you want from me?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

A smile quirked his lips, lightening his eyes to a middling oak color. "Would salvation be too much to ask?"

I clamped down on the smile that wanted to answer his. "Probably."

"I see. In that case, perhaps you will join me tomorrow evening? There is an exhibition that I think you might find interesting."

"Woogie woogie Woogums! Did oo miss Mummy? Mummy missed her Woogums!"

"What sort of an exhibition?"

"Perhaps a better term would be demonstration. A local medium is hosting a series of Summonings, open to the public."

I wondered how Christian knew about the psychic shindig, then figured he must have had an ear to the paranormal grapevine. "I heard about that. I suppose it might be interesting, although I'm at a loss as to why you want to take me there. After all, I'm not in the least bit feminine or submissive or docile, and of course, I have this great huge problem with my self-image."

He took two steps forward and held my chin between his thumb and forefinger. Little flames of desire licked down my neck at his touch. "You are also a very talented woman, intelligent if rather distant emotionally."

The flames froze solid. I smacked his hand away, ignoring Esme's horrified gasp of surprise. "You are just about the rudest man I've ever met. You've done nothing but insult me ever since you came here—uninvited, I might add—and now you have the balls to tell me I'm frigid?" I took a deep breath and pointed to the door. "Don't let the door hit you in the butt as you go out."

"Allie," Esme the ghost shrieked. "Child, that is no way to speak to your man! Firm, yes, but never, ever demanding. It isn't ladylike."

Christian smiled at me—smirked, really, a knowing, full-of-himself smirk that made my hand itch to slap it off his face; then he made another one of those old-fashioned bows that would have looked ridiculous performed by any other man, but which fit him perfectly. "I shall call for you at eight of the clock."

"Out!" I snapped, stabbing my finger at the door.

"Esme, it was a distinct pleasure. I hope to see you again, but if Allegra determines what is wrong with her Release spell and I am unable to, bon chance."

"Oh, my! Christian, you really are the charmer, aren't you? I'm sure I will be around for quite some time. I can see that Allie needs a guiding hand, a mother's helpful advice."

"Esme, you're not my mother. And you are dead. Those are just two reasons why advice from you is not needed."

Her lower lip quivered, and her eyes filled with ghostly tears.

"I hope you are pleased with yourself. You have made a spirit cry."

I glared at Christian for a moment. "Weren't you just leaving? Oh, Esme, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that… well, I have a mother. She's very much alive, and she's full of good advice, so although I appreciate your concern—"

The ghost sniffed and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, blowing her nose. I made a mental note to record the fact that ghosts' noses got stuffy when they cried. "But you're American! She must live in America, surely? You need a mother figure here, child. You obviously have a great deal to learn about men, and since I've had four husbands, I'm just the person to tell you what's what. Now you run along, Christian," she said, tucking her handkerchief away, a smile once again brightening her face. She made shooing motions toward him. "Allie and I have a great deal to talk about, and none of it is fit for a man's ears."

"Oh, Lord, what have I done?" I moaned softly to myself.

Christian's amused smile turned into an out-and-out grin. He inclined his head toward Esme. "You have my full permission to—how is it said?—whip her into shape."

His words fell like shards of glass on tender flesh. I wondered if he had ever been whipped. I had. It wasn't an expression I used lightly.

The smile faded off his face as his gaze shifted to me. "Allegra? Is something amiss?"

I could feel him testing the guards I'd sent on my mind, searching for any cracks that would allow him in. I forced down the pain that had risen at his words and stretched my lips into a smile. "Everything's fine. Good night, Christian."

He continued to stare at me for a minute, probing my mind gently, but my will was strong. Closing my mind to others was the first step in self-preservation that I'd learned. It was a hard lesson, but one that was instinctive to me now. He nodded abruptly, then turned and went out the door.

I closed it behind him, leaning against it as I blew out a whoosh of breath. I hadn't realized just how he upset the balance of my mind until he'd left. I felt drained, unfinished, almost as if part of me had walked out the door with him.

"Fancies, sheer and utter fancies." I shook my head at myself and straightened my shoulders. Disturbing influence or no, I had work to do. I would not let a handsome man with wicked eyes and seductive lips interfere. No matter how hard he tried to dominate me, I would remain in control. I kept my smile firmly attached as I turned to the waiting ghost.

"Just a word of advice, dear. Your smile should be representative of your inner beauty, of your natural gentleness. It should shine from within, and should warm the heart of the one you're smiling at, not make that person think of death's-heads and grinning skeletons."

I let the smile fizzle off into nothing. Sometimes I had to wonder if being a Summoner was really worth it.

Chapter Five

"Dear, you are a young woman. You have a dashing young man. Why don't you put your hair up in papers? It would do wonders for it."

I ground my teeth and made note of Esme's EMF reading.

"And your clothes—really, I understand that they're comfortable, but you have your future to think of! What man will want to marry a woman who wears loose athletic trousers and baggy jumpers? You have a very nice figure, I'm sure. Don't be afraid to show it off!"

The point of my pencil broke against the notebook. I threw it away with a muttered snarl and reached for a pen.

"And your posture—I realize this is a different age than when I was a girl, but my mother would have swooned if she'd seen me slouching as you do. Shoulders back, child, back straight, head high. A lady never sits like a lump."

The pen gouged a hole in the paper. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. There were just a few more things to record; then I could send Esme on to her reward, leaving me in blissful quiet. Two hours of her nonstop, if well-meaning advice had just about worn my nerves raw.

"You know, I think if you tried a different sort of eyeliner, it might help tone down your eyes a wee bit. I realize there's nothing you can do with them, but you do want to maximize what you have, in a minimal sort of way, if you know what I mean. A lady doesn't look like a painted trollop; she just looks… enhanced. Subtlety is the key with cosmetics."

I picked up my digital camera and switched the settings to manual. "Could you hold… um… Mr. Woogums for a minute? I'd like to get a few pictures."

"Photos! Why, of course, I'd be delighted. Come here, my little Woogy-woogy man."

I focused, checked the flash settings (I'd found that flashes made ghosts all but invisible to the camera), and snapped a few shots.