Tucker s Paradise Michele Bardsley All rights reserved. Copyright ©2005 by Michele Bardsley No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC. ISBN (10) 1-59596-223-9 ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-223-2 Formats Available: HTML, Adobe PDF, MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader Publisher: Changeling Press LLC PO Box 1561 Shepherdstown, WV 25443-1561 www.ChangelingPress.com Editor: Sheri Ross Carucci Cover Artist: Karen Fox This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers. Chapter 1 Riley Goldheart entered the creaking old doors of the plantation house, once the jewel of the prosperous Tucker family, who had ruled this little section of Georgia with a velvet-covered steel fist. All that was left of the family s legacy was the broken-down house and three acres of forested land. Whew. She placed her gym bag on the dirt-covered marble floor and tried to wave away the smells of mildew and dust. No luck. Not a soul had lived in this place for two centuries, not since the year Alesia Tucker had been strangled to death by her husband, Gilmore Tucker. In despair of his evil act, he jumped off the roof. The impact killed him, and, Riley hoped, sent his spirit straight to hell. After Alesia and Gilmore s untimely demises, relatives moved in and attempted to run the once successful cotton enterprise. But problems with equipment, with slaves, with finances, with so many, many odd things ended the Tuckers livelihood within a month of the couple s tragic end. Yep. That was the tale told by the locals, but Riley s other research indicated the real reason for the downfall of Tucker s Plantation: haunting. Many speculated that Gilmore Tucker, regretful of causing his wife s death, haunted the mansion and the grounds. It was his restless, guilty spirit that broke equipment and frightened slaves. Thirty days after Gilmore took a short walk off the steep roof it rained blood --inside the house. The servants, nearly all slaves, fled, risking punishment -- even death, to escape, but they needn t have worried. Tucker s sister and brother-in-law had also left the property never to return. They had been unable to sell it and so, left it abandoned and untended, a cursed birthright that passed from relative to relative until it ended up in the hands of Arnold Jeremiah Tucker. Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 4 Lucky for her Arnold cared more about money than about his heritage. Riley never had family --had never known where she came from or where she belonged. And that was why she d been attracted to Tucker s Plantation. Family. Legacy. Roots. She d been found at the age of three, abandoned in a church aisle, and bobbled along in foster homes, the charge of some well-meaning -- and every so often just plain mean --folks until adulthood. Despite all her attempts to find out anything about herself or her parents ah well. It didn t bear thinking about. She was going to create roots, right here, starting with this house. Riley smiled as she drifted through the foyer and into the parlor. Taking in the dusty furniture --all original pieces that would need serious TLC, she sighed with contentment. Truthfully, she thought that the plantation was haunted. But she didn t think Gilmore walked these halls. She believed Alesia did. Riley realized she was daydreaming in the parlor and grinned. She felt almost giddy standing here and soaking up the atmosphere. She knew this house and its history better than any local historian. Tucker s Plantation had been her obsession since her best friend Darla had shown it to her during a visit two years ago. You will love this, Riley. Our little town has its own haunted house. It must ve been gorgeous in its heyday. Darla had been trying to get Riley to move to the very small town of Tucker s Ridge ever since Darla had returned to marry her high school sweetheart, Frank, nearly a decade ago. Tucker s Ridge was small, quaint, and survived on the tourist trade. Riley had loved the town the day she set eyes on it. But nothing, not even her love for Darla or the woman s ever-growing family had been enough to convince Riley that the inconvenience of quitting her job, emptying her apartment, and filling up a moving van was worth it. Not until the day she d seen the dilapidated house with its flaking paint, falling- off shutters, and damaged wraparound porch. It had taken every cent in her savings, a personal loan from Darla and Frank, and a small bank loan to buy the house and have the funds to restore it. But her new home had been worth every obstacle, every worry, every penny. Now, Tucker s Plantation is mine. Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 5 * * * Gilmore Tucker paced in the upstairs library, his favorite room. If he d been alive, his feet would ve marched a rhythm on the wood floors. He wished for the millionth time he could touch objects, but alas his talents were limited to floating, drifting, and simulating human movement. He sighed. Going through solid walls had lost its charm long ago. He looked at the yellowed sketch on the desk -- in the same spot it had been the day he had taken it from the drawer to gaze upon, to remember, to mourn. That had been the day he died. First in spirit then literally --much to his surprise. No living soul had entered the library ever since. The sketch. His gaze roved over the shadowed curves. He d drawn her nude, trying to capture not only the beauty of her body, but also the essence of her soul. In two hundred years of haunting, his regret was the same: he had lost his only love. Oh Paradise. Gil floated in a sitting position above the dusty leather wingback that faced the unlit fireplace and smiled. He could almost imagine that he lived and that, as he had so long ago, he sat in the library with his brandy and his impatience and waited for Paradise. Paradise entered the library and locked the doors. She tossed her cleaning rag to the floor as she laughed and ran to Gilmore. Paradise was a beautiful mulatto girl all the way from New Orleans. She d been trained to be a mistress. She was educated, articulate, and knew more about etiquette than any Southern debutante. She d been a virgin, too, but possessed wicked carnal knowledge. His father had bought her to be his concubine until Mother found out the girl s true purpose and raised hell. Mother had a soft spot for the slaves, and he secretly suspected she deplored their plight, so she had put Paradise to work in the house while keeping the beauty far from her husband s lustful gaze. But not from her eldest son s. Gilmore had had his fair share of lovelies, including a few of the willing field slaves, but Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 6 Paradise took more than his breath away. She stole his heart. He loved her --more than he loved the ideals so cherished by his father, more than he loved the plantation, more than he loved the South. He cared nothing for money and nothing for societal expectations. All he wanted was a life with Paradise. Before he could greet her, she kissed him. Her tongue dove into his mouth, an eager mating that made him tremble. Paradise, he murmured against her lips. Desire flowed through him, a hot wave of wanting that made his fingers stumble over the buttons on her simple dress. Soon, the garment slipped off her shoulders and revealed her cocoa breasts, pert nipples already vying for his attention. He bent to suckle the dark peaks. God. Oh God. Just like licking sugar. Her moans those breathy whimpers shot lightning bolts down his spine. They kneeled on the floor and while he paid homage to her breasts, she opened his shirt and ran her small hands over the muscled ridges. Then they toppled. He rolled to his back, a grin on his lips; she crawled on top of him and pulled down his trousers. Her pussy was juicy and ripe for him. When her slick flesh encased his cock, he groaned and reached for her hips, sheathing himself inside her tight cunt. Gilmore. He looked at her, at her glazed eyes, at her perfect body wound with desire, and felt his heart stall when she smiled. Looks like you re finally in Paradise. Gilmore laughed and squeezed her hips. Then he decided to knock that saucy expression off her lovely face. He thrust deeply and was rewarded with a throaty purr. She planted her hands on his chest and moved, her needy little moans driving him to fuck her harder, faster, deeper. She rode him, her pussy so wet and welcoming he felt his orgasm rise No, not yet. He tried to slow her movements, but she was close to her own bliss and wouldn t obey his whispered request. Her cries were followed by fierce contractions; his cock slipped out, throbbing, hard as iron, and aching for release. She slid down him and took his penis into her mouth. Already close to orgasm, he shuddered when her tongue licked him from base to tip then swirled Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 7 around his head and suckled. She took him all, her mouth warm, her lips sweet, her tongue torturous, and he came, his orgasm so intense, he arched off the floor. She drank from him, taking his seed as if she sipped ambrosia. I love you, Paradise. She rose to her knees; her gaze met his. I love you, too, Gilmore. Chapter 2 Riley jerked to a sitting position and looked around. Ornate couch. Marble hearth. Shadow-filled room. Tucker s Plantation. She relaxed. Sweat trickled between her breasts and her breath lodged in her lungs. What the hell was that dream all about? A slave? She wasn t a slave. She wasn t even black. Why in the hell would she have such a vivid dream about having sex with Gilmore Tucker? All her research led her to believe he was a greedy, domineering asshole who d killed his sweet wife. Before that despicable act, he had impregnated a young slave girl, and even though his babe grew in her belly, he sent her to auction rather than deal with a half-breed offspring. Anger whipped through her. If Gilmore Tucker still lived, I d push him off the roof again. Rising, she stretched out the kinks that had resulted from napping on the beautiful, but uncomfortable sofa. Tucker s Plantation needed a lot of work. She had the whole summer to explore its secrets and expunge its ghosts before Darla and Frank arrived with Team Bruberry AKA their considerable number of relatives to get it ready for reconstruction and refurbishment. In a year and a half, if all went well, The Tucker Bed & Breakfast would be open. Okay, so she wasn t related to the Tuckers, but giving the family a tribute wasn t a bad way to begin creating a legacy, was it? A chill crept through her, a cold zing that started at the base of her spine and crawled on feathery spider legs to the nape of her neck. She turned, suddenly sure someone was in the room with her. That s ridiculous. Duh. Obviously, she stood alone in the parlor. So, yeah, she d believed the house was haunted. Still, that didn t mean she wanted the ghost to appear and introduce itself. Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 9 To distract herself from the idea that a spirit, or worse, rats and other creepy crawlies, watched her, Riley walked through the room and made mental notes about the condition of the furniture, the walls, and the carpets. She grimaced. The wood floors could be restored, but the once-beautiful, lush rugs were unsalvageable. She d gotten the keys from Arnold late this afternoon. Realistically, she should have gone to the hotel for a good night s sleep, but she couldn t resist the urge to visit the house. Torn curtains did little to hide the dusty, cracked windows. The sunlight was fading to purple. Dusk. Soon it would be dark and other than the large flashlight she d stowed in her gym bag, she had no other light. It would be a while before she had electricity in this old place. It had never been wired. In fact, getting the place hooked into the modern age would take a huge chunk of her budget. Might as well go to the hotel, she muttered. Her gaze flitted around the room. All right, little ghostie, that s enough. If that s you, Gilmore Tucker, you better vacate the premises. I know what a louse you are. And if you re Alesia, you might as well get used to seeing me. With one last look at the parlor, Riley left, feeling uncomfortable about the encroaching darkness and yet reluctant to leave what she d worked so hard to possess. In the foyer, she picked up the gym bag that held paper, pen, a few tools, a light sweater, tape measure, water and snacks. Packed for naught, it appeared. I should leave it. I ll be back in the morning. Watch out! The warning issued from a deep male voice, and it came too late. Riley heard a whoosh then a cracking sound like far-off thunder. Invisible hands shoved her chest. What the - Riley fell backwards, toward the large mahogany staircase that led to the second floor. She twisted, trying to avoid smacking her head. Her shoulder took most of the impact, but pain vibrated through her whole body. Then, despite her efforts, her temple rapped the jagged edge of the first step. She felt a brief bright flash of pain then Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 10 nothing. Paradise? Here. Gilmore found her sitting in the old gazebo, her small form huddled on the swing. He sat next to her and the groan of the rusty chains made them laugh. My father built this place for my mother. He cleared his throat and took Paradise s hand into his own. I remember how much she loved coming out here. She doesn t like the bigger one he built near the house? It doesn t have a swing. He grimaced. And it wasn t built for the same reason. Do you think our love will ever die like theirs did? No, never. He kissed her fingertips and thought about how lovely Paradise looked in her plain gown compared to the flowers and frills that encased the vain and petulant Alesia Devon. The sounds of laughter and music drifted from the house into the dark gazebo. He had barely managed to escape Alesia s clutches at the tiresome soiree. Gilmore The catch in her voice broke his heart. No. Don t say it. I must. She freed her hand. Her eyes glittered in the light of the full moon, but he could barely make out her features. We are such fools. You are white. I am Negro. You are a slave owner. I am a slave. You are the firstborn son of a rich man. I am - The woman I love. I am your slave. This --this doesn t feel right. We are wrong for each other. No, we are not yet right for each other. Gilmore captured her hands again. They felt cold and her fingers trembled against his palms. Paradise, the world is more than Georgia. Than the South. Than the United States. We will find a place where we fit. You are a romantic, she teased. He breathed a sigh of relief. She sounded like the old Paradise. The one who laughed and loved and let him worry about the logistics of how and when they would be together. He would marry her. They would have babies. They would live happy and free. Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 11 There is a way for me to escape now, she said. There is a place I can go. You speak of the the railroad. Yes. If I escaped then you would not be blamed. No one would know about us. You could meet me in the North and we could go anywhere. To California, maybe. Your family -they would be safe from scandal. Her plan had merit, and yet he hated the idea of her leaving without him. She would not be safe. She would risk capture, punishment even death. The Underground Railroad was a perilous journey. Paradise no. You said you would do anything to spare your mother the shame. She shushed him. Not of me. I know you are not ashamed of me. I know, too, the times we live in, Gilmore. Can you imagine a place or a time where we could live and love together without judgment? There is a place. And if not, we will make one. We are such fools, she said again. She sighed. You know I am right. Let me travel the railroad to the North. I will send word when I arrive then you can find a way to join me. It is a good plan, he admitted. But you wish to think of something else, don t you? Her laughter tinkled. Gilmore, I do love you. And I, you, beloved. He slid to his knees, not caring that dirt and leaves clung to his trousers. His hands slid up her simple dress. Her ruffled undergarments were no match for his fingers; he soon found the slit of her drawers. Gilmore! The party they ll wonder where you are. Let them wonder. He dipped under her skirt and tugged on her thighs until she obliged by scooting to the edge of the swing. Her legs draped his shoulders as he tasted the cream of her desire, lapping the sweet, dark inner folds of her pussy. He licked the circle of her entrance, thrusting his tongue into the juicy hole, tasting the essence of his Paradise. She squirmed and moaned, driving him to quicken his pace. He used his thumbs to part the flesh so that he could lick and suckle and drink. A few moments later, he went after the prize. Her clitoris felt like a pearl against his tongue as he laved it, then sucked it, repeating the pleasurable torment until Paradise gurgled, Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 12 her hand pressed against her lips to prevent crying out, and came. She collapsed against the swing, causing it to rock slightly. He kissed away the moisture of her bliss, soothing the little nub with small strokes, until she finally pushed him away. He looked up at her and grinned. Don t you dare say you just tasted Paradise, she said. Before he could say anything, he heard the soft, southern tones of Alesia calling to him as she approached the gazebo. Gilmore. Oh Gilmore! Are you out here? Yoo-hoo! Paradise rose from the swing, a dignified queen satisfied by her loyal consort. Gilmore got to his booted feet and swept the earth from his knees. Paradise rose up on her toes and cupped his face. Just remember, Gilmore. If that so-called lady kisses you, it will be me she tastes on your lips. Chapter 3 When Riley awoke the next morning, she was in the dirty, ragged remains of a four-poster bed. She sat up, dispelling dust, and sneezed. Her body ached, partly from the fall and partly from sleeping in the old bed. Her head throbbed too, but she should probably be thanking her lucky stars she hadn t broken her neck. She blinked the whirling dust motes out of her eyes and looked around. Big, dark furniture indicated that this bedroom probably belonged to a man. Then again, a great deal of 19th century furniture was big and dark and masculine. Still, the room had the feel of a male. It was large, too, and in its day, would ve been very luxurious living quarters. Let me guess, she muttered. Gilmore Tucker. My great-great-great um great-grandfather. The handsome man lounging in the doorway was dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He had twinkling brown eyes, a shaved head that gleamed like an eight ball, and skin the color of her favorite Ghirardelli milk chocolate. He smiled. I usually forget how many greats it is. Gilmore Tucker was your ancestor? I know, I know. You re thinking, how could I, with my charming Boston accent, be related to a die-hard Southerner. We sound nothing alike. Riley grinned. Yeah. That s exactly what I was thinking. Her startled puzzlement turned to realization. You re a descendant from his child with Paradise. Paradise Baker was my great-great oh hell. Yes, I m related to her. He stepped into the room and Riley realized he was holding a dewy bottle of water. God, she was suddenly thirsty. Is that for me? Yes. He crossed the room and handed it to her. His gaze was on her throat as she swallowed the cool, wonderful water and her heart jumped. What was he thinking Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 14 about? She handed him the bottle and their fingers grazed. Her pulse leapt at the light contact and her gaze zeroed in on his. He sat down on the bed next to her. I m Gil Baker. Riley Goldheart. His eyebrows rose like two question marks. I was named by a social worker. Riley was her Chihuahua and she thought anyone named Goldheart would be the kind of person who did good deeds. Like rescue this place? Riley shrugged. Maybe I bought it to rescue me. She rubbed her forehead to ease the ache. What happened? A frown creased Gil s lips. I walked into the house this morning and saw you lying like a rag doll at the bottom of the stairs. Morning? Oh my God. That means I was out all night. Good thing for you, I m a doctor. You re a doctor? The twinkle dimmed. Why? You think guys with Boston accents can t be doctors? Of course not. She playfully smacked him on a nicely muscled biceps. I m thinking how lucky I was that you not only came along, but that you had medical skills to save me from my own klutziness. Riley tried to remember what had happened, but things were fuzzy. Had she imagined the voice? The hands pressed against her chest? I d feel better if we got you to emergency care and let them check you out. He smiled. His gaze was as bright and merry as an elf s. I m okay. Really. Riley drew the key ring out of her front pocket and jingled it. Thanks for taking care of me. I need to go back to the hotel and take a shower. Gil shook his head. He plucked the key out of her hand. You shouldn t drive anywhere until we check out your noggin. Riley s lips hitched. You re such a flirt. Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 15 He laughed --a deep, mellow sound that made tingling awareness ripple through her. Gil Baker was very handsome. She shoved her hand under her thigh to keep from running it over his bare head. Sheesh. From running it anywhere on the man s yummy bod. I bet he feels like warm silk. You hungry? he asked. Huh? Hungry, he repeated, his voice softening. You look a little starved. Oh. She dropped her gaze. What was wrong with her? Maybe she really did crack open her head. She had never felt this attracted to a man so quickly. Hell, it was more than simple attraction. She had the strangest urge to throw the good doctor onto the bed and have her way with him. Her heart thrummed in her chest as an image popped into her mind: I would slide onto his cock, inch by inch, let him fill me, take me hard and fast soft and slow my hands would stroke that gorgeous chest, the nipples pebbling under my fingertips and I would Holy crap. It was like like the dreams. Yes. Those strange dreams she d been having about Gilmore Tucker and Paradise must be affecting her hormone levels. She hadn t had sex in a long time. The last relationship she had er, she couldn t remember any guy she dated more than twice in the last twelve months. And, okay, she d occasionally given into her sexual urges, but the truth was, she was uncomfortable with pleasure for pleasure s sake. She wanted making love to have emotional significance, too. Trying to control her thoughts and her libido, she swung her feet off the bed and accepted Gil s hand. She felt dizzy, but the pain in her skull had reduced to a dull throb. Okay, doc. Let s go. * * * Gil s Jaguar XJ purred like a newborn kitten. As they pulled into an open parking place in front of the quaint Victorian Inn, she had to admit that the ride had been a lot more pleasant in his car than it would ve been in her old reliable Honda. She d convinced Gil on the drive to town that she was really, truly, and absolutely fine. He Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 16 insisted that they have lunch in the hotel s restaurant so he could keep an eye on her. After they settled in at their table with its lacy pink tablecloth, unlit white pillar candle, and frilly chairs, the waitress rattled off the specials. Riley went with soup and toast; Gil ordered a roast beef sandwich. Was there a reason you came to the house this morning? Riley asked, suspecting that Gil had come to Tucker s Ridge for the same reason she had. I wanted to see the place where they fell in love. Gil looked at her, his brown eyes intense. Apparently, I was a day late and a dollar short. You tried to buy Tucker s Plantation. I m still willing to buy it. Riley thought about all she had sacrificed to get that house. She d left Florida, her job, her apartment, and even her cat, Mr. Wiggles, to move to Tucker s Ridge. Mr. Wiggles now lived with the spry eighty-year-old who d been her landlady; he was probably a much happier feline. Oh what s wrong with me? That house was more than just a crumbling pile of wood and brick. It was a dream, a second chance, a purpose. It s not for sale. Why not? I know you have more direct ties to the plantation. Really, it should be yours. She shrugged, unable to articulate her thoughts. How did you explain to someone who had a history, a family, a freaking lineage what it was like to never belong? Gilmore Tucker was cruel and evil. I want to wash away his memory from that house. I want to make it new and clean. Sudden palpable silence forced her to meet Gil s gaze. His expression was incredulous. Gilmore Tucker loved Paradise. How can you say that? He sold her at a slave auction after she told him she was pregnant! Amazed at the fierceness of her outrage, she sipped her water and tried to calm down. The dreams she d had in the house had been more like memories. It was possible that Gilmore really believed that he loved Paradise. Maybe maybe they d had a sweet love affair in the very beginning. But Riley knew the truth. Everyone in Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 17 Tucker s Ridge knew the history of Gilmore and Paradise and Alesia. Riley? Hmmm? You all right? Yes. Good. He grinned. Because I ve been talking for the last minute and a half and you have yet to answer my question. She blinked at him as embarrassment heated her cheeks. Jeez. I m sorry. What did you want to know? Why do you believe Gilmore sold Paradise? Pages from Alesia Tucker s diary. In 1929, the town historian, Chester Mayfield, ventured into the house and took a bunch of the Tuckers personal papers. The diary was half-burned, but he managed to salvage a chunk where Alesia described how she found out about Gilmore s affair and how he took her to the auction to watch as Paradise was sold off like a bit of choice meat. So a half-burned diary supposedly written by a bitter woman is all the proof you have? Riley had never thought about it quite like that. Chester verified his sources. He found the auction papers and the --what the hell s so funny? Chester Mayfield is a genius. A genius and a liar. Nonplussed, she stared at Gil. Luckily, she was saved from responding by the arrival of the waitress with their lunches. After they d spent a few minutes assuaging immediate hunger, Riley asked, Why is Chester Mayfield a liar? Because he never found a diary or auction papers. Gil smiled at her the same way a police officer smiles at the gullible lady duped by the handsome con man. The Haunted History of the Tucker Plantation wasn t a factual account. It was a hoax. Chapter 4 After lunch, Riley dropped by her room in the Victorian Inn to freshen up. She was on the third floor, the highest in the building, in what used to be the attic. Gil was on the second level. After showering, putting on light make-up, and brushing her teeth, she wound her hair into a ponytail and threw on a simple summer dress and flip-flops. Five minutes later, Gil welcomed her into his room. Like most of the rooms at the Inn, it was small and crowded with a double-sized bed, a dresser, and an armoire --all cherry wood. There were no phones, Internet connections, or televisions. Those luxuries were found in a common room opposite the entrance to the restaurant. An overheard light looked like a mini-chandelier; the tiny teardrop crystals spattered the soft glow of the main bulb. Other than that, the only other light was on the dresser: a big brass lamp with an intricately beaded shade. Riley noticed the tall object next to it -- a small white-marble urn. What or who is that? Paradise Eleanora Baker. You brought her back to Tucker s Ridge? So that she could rest with Gilmore, he said softly. My thought was to take the ashes to the family cemetery and sprinkle them over his grave. You re a romantic, she teased. A card-carrying member, he admitted. But I still eat raw meat, eschew female tears, and watch football games in my underwear. Wow. Thanks for sharing. Riley touched the top of the urn. I ve only been to the family cemetery once. It s in the creepiest part of the woods. She shivered as she remembered the echoing loneliness she d felt when she visited. Stranger still, she felt Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 19 envious because the graveyard represented what she d never had. Family. History. Belonging. Together in life, and together in death. That section is so tangled with trees, weeds, and overgrowth it might be impossible to find his headstone. I couldn t get the gate opened. It s going to be a real chore to reunite those two. I m not worried. Where there s a Gil, there s a way. Riley laughed; his merry gaze warmed her all the way to her toes. Much of that heat, however, was concentrated in her belly and regions south. Her thighs quivered as desire jabbed her pussy. Day-amn. The man could melt the polar ice caps with one of those looks. Gil swept an arm toward the files and papers stacked neatly on the bed. Your proof, m lady, that the honorable Chester Mayfield perpetuated a hoax. Riley crawled onto the bed and delved into the paperwork. Gil scooted onto the bed, too. Soon, they were surrounded by the evidence of Chester s fabrications. Her gaze sifted over the copies of death certificates for Alesia Tucker and Gilmore Tucker. Gilmore had died of injuries resulting from a fall from the roof, but the kicker was that he had died a month before Alesia. Chester hadn t exaggerated about her death, though. An unknown assailant had strangled her. Maybe Paradise came back and killed her, she muttered. Paradise never left Boston. I think Alesia was murdered by one of her lovers, said Gil. If you ll look at the diary entries from Sarah --that s Gilmore s mother -- and the letters that he wrote to Paradise, you ll see that Alesia enjoyed sharing her favors. How did you get hold of Sarah s diary? Right after his mother died, Gilmore mailed it to Paradise. I think Alesia was a little off her rocker. Maybe Gilmore wanted someone to know the truth if anything bad happened to him. And two hundred years later, here we are, just like Scooby-Doo and the gang. Right, Raphne. Hey! Why do you get to be Scooby? Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 20 Because you re a girl. And Scooby s all man uh, dog. She chuckled. A comfortable silence fell between them as they went through the remaining files. Gil had been busy. He probably knew more about the Tuckers than the locals did. The quality and quantity of his research suggested he d spent time, effort, and money on trying to figure out what had happened to his great-great-great oh hell, whatever, grandparents. And from what she could see, he d done a terrific job of fitting together the puzzle pieces. While Gil rummaged through a particularly thick file folder, Riley checked him out. God, he was scrumptious. He sat mere inches away, looking all cute and studious. He smelled dusky-sweet, a combination of spiced cologne and well, essence of Gil, she supposed. He wore a pair of worn, tight jeans and a T-shirt that molded his muscular chest and arms. He was barefoot, too. Big, strong feet chocolate toes. She resisted the urge to laugh at such a silly thought. Oh heavens. I love chocolate --and he looks like the best kind. She tried to shake off the fog of lust enveloping her, but the aching, pulsing need wouldn t disperse. Her breath shallowed. Her nipples peaked. Her pussy moistened. Even her skin tingled with the absolute, screaming need for Gil to touch her. She wanted his hands everywhere, his lips feasting on her flesh, his cock sliding into her, filling her, fucking her Holy God. Get hold of yourself, girl! You haven t been laid in months and with a prime specimen practically breathing on your neck, you re losing your mind. You re doing it again. Doing what? Zoning out. Am I boring you? No. The word held a hysterical note. You re having the opposite effect. Riley ordered her libido to calm down this instant. Nope. Internal commands weren t working. It was almost as if her body had left a note: No longer taking orders from Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 21 brain. Please screw the gorgeous guy and give me orgasmic relief. Love, Body. Her eyes met Gil s and the yearning for his touch, his kiss, his cock singed her all over again. When his gaze darkened, she knew he d seen what she couldn t possibly hide. Not from a man. And sure as hell not from a physician who knew all sorts of interesting information about the human body. He d probably taken a course in Signs of Arousal 101. His gaze searched hers, looking for what she didn t know. Perhaps he wanted confirmation that she was, indeed, in the middle of full-fledged lust attack. Or, maybe he thought she was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Silence thickened as his unrelenting stare missed nothing --not the anxious nibbling of her lower lip or the pressing of clenched fists against her thighs. Her heart burbled and bumbled, a rhythm created by both nervousness and need. She swallowed the knot in her throat and managed to say, It s just that well, that you are very distracting. You know what, Riley? A lazy grin curled the corners of his mouth. He leaned in, his face so close their noses nearly touched. So are you. Her heart hammered now; shit, the damned organ was doing the conga in her chest. She sucked in a breath and with it came the taste, the scent of Gil s cologne and that dark, rich maleness. What is it? he asked softly. His breath floated across her lips and she flicked out her tongue, a vague hope for a real taste. Something you want? Oooooh. I want something all right. And bad. His eyes held a question. No, a challenge. Then she knew. He wouldn t make the first move. Either she proved she wanted him, right here, right now. Or she chickened out. Chapter 5 Riley leaned forward. Closing those two inches of space felt like trying to leap across the Grand Canyon. As she pressed her mouth to Gil s, the very real possibility of his refusal made her stomach curl into knots. Don t reject me. Please. To her relief, he parted his lips and met her tentative kiss. Those first, uncertain meetings of their mouths felt like brushstrokes on canvas. Unsure. Impatient. Eager. Gil allowed her to lead, never taking more than she offered, and his lack of aggression left her delightfully frustrated. The chaste kisses were mini-appetizers. Tasty, but not filling. Riley wanted more. Much more. Fervent anticipation replaced hesitant exploration. They were frenzied now: mouths crushed, teeth nipped, breath harshened. Need built an ache in her pussy, brought her nipples to hard points, forced a moan from her throat. And he hadn t touched her. Yet. Good God. If she was this sensitive now, without him laying a finger on her, then she would probably implode with the first stroke of his fingers on her flesh. Riley put her hands on either side of Gil s face. Her palms flat against his jaw, she felt the slight rasp of his five o clock shadow. If only he would take off my dress and rub his face between my breasts I want to feel the scrape of that beard across my areola and the warmth of his mouth as he sucks my nipple Gentle purpose broke under the intensity of her need. She couldn t recapture tender discovery. Not with those kind of thoughts banging around in her mind. In her heart. Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 23 I ve never wanted anyone like this, she said, feeling almost desperate. I m possessed. I m yours, he answered. The simple surrender offered by those two words caused a tsunami of lust-heat. Her breath shallowed and her heart pounded. Her pussy felt wet, ready and very, very willing. With a low moan, she parted the seam of his mouth with her tongue and delved inside, shuddering like a woman in the desert too long denied water. He tasted of mint toothpaste; the flavor tingled on her lips. Gil, she murmured between long tastes, Gil. She pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. The hard length of his penis pressed the vee of her thighs and she shuddered at the contact. And we still have our clothes on. His hands drifted to her hips; her thin summer dress was no barrier to the warmth and strength of his stroking fingers. What now? he asked. Hmmm. She tilted her head and studied him, tapping her chin as if in deep thought. The shirt must go. He quickly obliged. Heck, she didn t even have to give up her prime spot sitting on his cock. The jeans go next, she said, but first Leaning forward, she kissed his naked chest. His skin was taut, all muscled curves and ridges. She feasted on his pectorals, peppering kisses on every centimeter of flesh. She laved his tiny brown nipples into hardness then flicked her tongue across each nub until a soft, low groan issued from Gil. Glancing up at his face, she saw his eyes were closed and his expression was one of tortured pleasure. She licked the space between his pecs, tasting the faint musk of his skin. Moving upward to his neck, she traced patterns from collarbone to ear. He allowed her to explore, to play, to kiss and to touch. His hands were restless on her back, her shoulders, her buttocks. He tugged out her ponytail and threaded his fingers into her hair. Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 24 Jeans off, she breathed into his ear. Certainly, he said. She rose, intending to move so he could wiggle off his pants, but found her dress yanked over her head and tossed to the floor. Since she hadn t worn a bra, all she was left wearing was a white-lace thong. Before she could take her next breath, Gil looped his hands under her arms and pulled her forward so his mouth could ravage her breasts. Zings traveled from nipples to pussy as Gil tugged one peak, then the other, between his teeth and flicked his tongue rapidly against the turgid points. The need built; an ache that bloomed between her thighs, a heat that engulfed her whole body. Jeans, she insisted. In scant seconds, Gil divested himself of jeans and boxers and lay on the bed like an Aztec god. He took her hand and placed it against his hard-on. She squeezed it, loving the silky-stone feel of his cock. Wrapping her fingers at the base, she stroked to the plumed head and squeezed. His moan zapped the pit of her stomach. You look like chocolate, she said. Never heard that one before, he responded drolly. Don t you have any nonfood metaphors? Sorry. I m all about dessert and, baby, I loooove chocolate. Do you taste sweet? He laughed. Why don t you find out? Riley crawled between his legs, her hands coasting up his rock-hard thighs. The man was fucking beautiful. Riley wanted nothing more than to feel that big, thick cock slide inside her. Oh yum! Soon, very soon, she d make that little wish come true. But for now she spent several glorious minutes fondling his balls and caressing his cock. Gil s hands fisted in the bedcovers and his hips thrust, a silent begging for her mouth. She ignored that plea, at least until he whispered, Riley please. Only then did she put her lips against his flesh. She savored that gorgeous penis, kissing it from base to head before taking the tip into her mouth and sucking it. Torturing him with endless tongue swirls and long licks, she finally took all of him. Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 25 His hands dove into her hair and held her captive. Not content with her gentle worshipping, he fucked her mouth. She held on to his thighs and took his strokes, her tongue teasing the cock pumping between her lips. With a persecuted groan, Gil released her, sucking in deep breaths. Riley did the same. When she saw pre-come pearl on the tip of his penis, she sucked it away. Don t. Do. That. Gil s edict was delivered between clenched teeth. He looked at her, his eyes glazed. I want to come inside you. Okay. She rose to her knees and wiggled off her panties. She slid her hand between her legs and pinched her clit. Pre-orgasm shivers wracked her. That feels so good. Her gaze held his. She rubbed her slick inner folds then spread them apart and showed him her succulent cunt. Damn, that s a beautiful sight. C mere, he demanded. Once again, she found herself astride Gil. Naked straddling was much better than clothed straddling. She planted her hands on his chest and vigorously rubbed her cunt on his cock. Gil, she whispered. Bliss sparked, trembled then She shattered -- a blinding wave of pleasure robbed her of sight, of breath. Her vagina pulsed with the intensity of her orgasm, but she was still greedy for him. She reached down and guided that big cock inside her come-slick pussy. He was big. He stretched her, filled her. Their breathing was harsh, shallow. Their gazes held, mirroring passion. Then Gil began to move and she followed his lead. God. Oh God. Gil s hands gripped her hips, but his slow, calculated strokes drove her mad. An ache stole across her, her belly tight with need, her very core spiraling with ribbons of pleasure. Gil released her hips and played with her breasts, pulling on her sensitive nipples, bringing her closer and closer to another orgasm. Riley. His voice held both plea and warning. Then she felt his thumb stroking her clit and she squeezed her vaginal muscles as Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 26 she fucked him, over and over, until he stiffened and shoved his cock deep inside. As he came, his stroking thumb sent her flying over the edge again. Riley collapsed against Gil, her tongue flicking out to taste the sweat beading his skin. Her heart pounded a trillion miles a minute and she still felt breathless. Gil wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. That was surprising, he said. Amazing, she corrected. She slid off to the side then propped her head on her hand. Should I give you the I never do this speech? You never have amazing, surprising sex with men you ve only known a few hours? Never. Gil smiled, his brown eyes filled with more than just sated lust. What emotion lurked in his gaze? She couldn t pin it down, but her heart leapt in recognition all the same. Their incredible lovemaking was not an end, she realized, but a beginning. That, of course, begged the question: a beginning to what? Chapter 6 Gilmore Tucker floated above the bottom of the rickety staircase and stared at the entity pitching a major fit in the foyer. Since it hadn t been sane in life, it wasn t sane in the afterlife either. But then, Alesia had always hidden her illness with coy smiles and bright laughter. You shouldn t have pushed Miss Goldheart, he said. The malformed being turned, its vacant eyes filled with hatred. While Gilmore had somehow formed in spirit what he had looked like as a mortal, Alesia s spirit looked more like gray mist with eyes. Sometimes she managed a human shape, but most of the time she dwelled in the edge of darkness, holding on to this remnant of life because she feared moving on. She feared punishment. Gilmore did not fear whatever might wait for him in the Light. But his sorrow, his love for Paradise kept him bound to this Earth. How stupid of him to hope that they might yet find each other again. You. Wait. The rasp sounded like a snake s hiss. For. Her. Still. Her! I love Paradise. Alesia screamed -- a long, terrible wail of rage and despair. Kill! You! Gilmore smirked. Don t you remember, dearest? You already did. * * * Do you think they ll really be together in the afterlife? asked Riley as she watched Gil twist off the top of the urn. This morning, he had managed to wrangle open the gate to the cemetery. They found Gilmore Tucker s grave at the far left edge of the poorly tended land. Gil looked at her and smiled. Her breath caught. He was beautiful in body, true, but his beautiful soul was what drew her. Last night, they had stayed in his room. Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 28 They d spent half the night talking and the other half making love. How is it possible to like someone that much? We haven t known each other twenty-four hours yet. It scared her, a little, to realize she might already be in love with Gilmore Baker. Do you think her husband will care? she asked. She married him. Raised a family with him. She heard the wistfulness in her own voice. From what I can piece together, Josiah Baker was a good man. He married a woman pregnant with a white man s child --and raised the little boy as his own. Gilmore crouched near the grave. There are all kinds of love, Riley. I think Josiah knew Paradise could never really give him her heart, but they still had love. And I don t think he d mind if she had a happy ending with Gilmore. * * * While Alesia railed and wept, Gilmore thought about Paradise. He d let her go, fool that he was, to pursue a life in the North. When she finally arrived in Boston, safe and sound and free, she found a job as a housemaid. Then Alesia Devon accused him of taking liberties and impregnating her. She brought the charges quietly, only to him and his father. He hadn t lain with her. Not once. His father blustered on and on about honor, but his motives were far from noble. He wanted the financial and political gainsay he would have if his eldest son married into the Devons. He didn t give a ripe shit what his father wanted. But Gilmore would never break his mother s heart. And Alesia s vile accusations, true or not, would have shamed the Tuckers. We have a responsibility, Gil, his mother said often, to maintain our dignity no matter the circumstances that bind us. So he married the cold-hearted bitch of the South and waited for his chance to escape. He never touched his so-called wife. Not even on their wedding night. Just weeks after their ill-fated nuptials, Alesia claimed she d lost the baby. For six agonizing months he and Paradise wrote letters to each other, preparing for the day they would be together again. When his mother passed away, Gilmore decided he would deny his own happiness no longer. Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 29 How cruel was fate. Just days before he planned to leave Georgia for good, he received the message that Paradise had died suddenly from an accidental fall down the stairs. It was as if his heart had been torn from his chest. And he still felt that way. Even now. Oh Paradise. * * * Would you help me? asked Gilmore. Riley knelt next to him, surprised and pleased by the kiss he brushed across her lips. Together, they sprinkled the ashes of Paradise Eleanora Baker on the grave of her soul mate and true love, Gilmore Lee Tucker. * * * Gilmore saw the Light filter into the foyer. He rose into a standing position, his ghostly feet a half foot above the bottom stair. He was at once drawn to the golden ray and reluctant to step within its warmth. The Light appeared, as it often did, a patient invitation extended from whatever -- and whoever -- existed in the next plane. This time, however, a female figure emerged. If he d still had a heart, it would have pounded in anticipation, in disbelief. Paradise? Gilmore, she cried, joy vibrating in her voice. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him. Her lips tasted as sweet as he remembered. He grinned. I can feel you. It s like we re real. We are real, she said. I m home now. Noooooooooo! The gray mist shrouded the reunited lovers, trying to pry them apart. Gilmore tightened his grip on Paradise. He never wanted to let go of her again. The Light wound around all three. The darkness that was the remnant of Alesia s soul burned away. After two hundred years of waiting and wanting, Gilmore and Paradise were Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 30 free. I love you, he whispered. I love you, too, Gilmore. With Paradise in his embrace, Gilmore closed his eyes and accepted the Light. Together, he and his love left the Earthly plane and went into eternity. * * * After depositing the empty urn in Gil s Jag and rinsing off their hands with bottled water, Riley and Gil entered the house. They explored it together, murmuring ideas for improvement, occasionally stopping their excited chatter to touch, to kiss each other. The house felt different to Riley. Empty. Peaceful. Maybe bringing Paradise home had created a happy ending for those lost souls. Before long, she and Gil entered the upstairs library. It didn t look like anyone had entered the room in two hundred years. Look, said Riley. She picked up the yellowed sketch of a beautiful, young black woman from the oversized desk. Her gaze was both innocent and wise. Paradise. Gil looked over her shoulder, his breath skittering across her neck. She was beautiful. I d like to think they re happy now. Gil pressed his lips where his breath had danced. Me, too. She placed the sketch on the desk and turned into Gil s embrace. She put her head on his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. Do you think there can be other happy endings? The world has changed so much and so little, Riley. She looked at him, at the worry and the want glittering in his gaze and smiled. Then we ll have to make our own happy ending -- one day at a time. Epilogue One Year Later Riley watched in satisfaction as Darla and Frank hung the wooden sign on the hooks that had been drilled into the eaves: Tucker s Paradise Bed and Breakfast. The multitude of Bruberrys, volunteers, and construction workers that had spent the last twelve months renovating the dilapidated house applauded, whistled, and shouted. The sign was the final touch on a dream that had become not just Riley s, but the town s. Okay, everyone, time to eat! Darla yelled. Frank helped her descend the stepladder. She hopped off the porch and gave Riley a big hug. Everyone else headed to the picnic tables and barbecue pits that had been set up to celebrate the opening of Tucker s Paradise. The tangy smell of cooking meat wafted in the air. You did it, gal, said Darla, her blue eyes sparkling with joy. I m so proud of you! Me, too, said a voice behind Riley. She turned at the sound of Gil s voice, her heart pounding. I m starved, said Frank, steering his wife toward the nearest picnic table. Nice to see you, Doc. Frank. Darla. Gil nodded hello then pulled Riley into his arms. It s official. You re all moved into the office? Yep. I ve officially hung out my shingle, he said, grinning. It had been decades since Tucker s Ridge had an in-town physician. It was still the South, though, and they d both felt the prejudicial ire of some townsfolk. Riley didn t care what other people thought of her relationship with Gil. Love was about the soul, not the body. Hmmm. Of course, the body offered some fun ways to Michele Bardsley Tucker s Paradise - 32 express love. What are you thinking about? asked Gil. You. And that new bed we put into our room. They had taken Gilmore s old bedroom for their own. All the other rooms had been converted for guests. His fingers feathered her cheek. I have a question for you. The answer s yes. That s good. Because the question was will you marry me? Riley felt the world spin. Joy and shock intertwined until YES! burst from her lips. Gil slipped a simple gold band onto her finger. This was the ring Gilmore gave to Paradise before she went North. It was a promise that they would one day be together again. Gil it s beautiful. It s perfect. It s my promise to you, Gil said, kissing her lightly. I love you. I love you, too. Riley threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. The clatter of plastic utensils, the laughter of children, the hiss of meat grilling all noise faded away until all she heard was the sound of their hearts, beating as one. In the afternoon sky, a beam of light broke through the clouds and shone down, strangely enough, on the two people embracing in front of an old mansion rebuilt with new dreams. Gilmore and Paradise peeked out from the Light and smiled. The End Michele Bardsley Michele Bardsley put pen to paper in junior high in the form of angst-filled poetry, angst-filled journals, and angst-filled short stories. She wanted to be a journalist, but after getting associate degree in liberal arts (otherwise known as the degree of the perpetual student) she ended up majoring in marriage and motherhood whereupon she failed housework, plant care, and staying calm in the face of big owies. Multi-published in several genres, Michele is a best-selling author in electronic and print. She is also an admitted contest slut. Her works have won the Grand Prize in the 72nd Annual Writer s Digest Writing Competition, Best Published Romance Novel in the Royal Palm Literary Awards, Best Book of Fiction from the Oklahoma Writer s Federation, Inc., an EPPIE for Best Romantic Suspense, and numerous other honors from publications and organizations. Michele loves to hear from her fans! Visit her website at MicheleBardsley.com or you may email her at MicheleBardsley@yahoo.com.