Bones sank into the chair nearest me. His lean, muscled frame exuded a heady mixture of sexiness and coiled energy even though he sat in a casual sprawl, one bare foot propped against my thigh. His dark hair was damp from his recent shower, making his short curls cling even tighter to his head. A stray bead of water lazily trailed down his neck toward the hard grooves in his chest, making me moisten my lips at my sudden urge to trace its path with my tongue.

If we were alone, I wouldn’t have needed to suppress that urge. Bones would be all too willing to indulge in some afternoon delight. His sex drive was as legendary as his dangerousness, but with two ghosts watching us, my tongue explorations would have to wait until later.

“If more noisy ghosties keep showing up, I’m going to plant garlic and weed ’round the entire house,” Bones stated in a conversational tone.

My uncle glowered at him, knowing that both those items in large quantities would repel most ghosts. “Not until I’m where I should be.”

I coughed, something I didn’t need to do since breathing became optional for me.

“By the time it would grow in, this power should be out of my system. The longest I wielded borrowed abilities was two months. It’s been almost that long since . . . well.”

It still wasn’t common knowledge that Marie Laveau, voodoo queen of New Orleans, was the reason I was now the equivalent of a ghostly den mother. It had been her blood I was forced to drink. Yeah, I understood later why she’d made me do it, but at the time, I’d been more than a little pissed.

“I knew a ghost who once took three weeks to cross over,” Fabian spoke up from the doorframe. At my grateful smile, he came all the way in. “I’m sure Cat will think of something that will help you make the journey,” he added with supreme confidence.

Bless Fabian. True friends came in all forms, even transparent ones.