Ghost Of A Chance

By Emma Daniels

When Natalie Scott decides to rent a seaside colonial cottage for six months after the death of her mother, she just wants peace and quiet.

Instead she gets a barrel-load of trouble; first from Karl Messer, who want to let her rent the cottage unless she goes out with him; then from her brother, Trevor, who won’t let her take his guard dog. But worst of all is the resident ghost, Sean O’Shea, who falls in love with her. And finally from her ex-boyfriend, Rick Dalton, who marches back into her life wanting to take up where they left off.

What’s a girl to do? Should Natalie run for cover, or stay to sort these four men out once and for all?

BOOK 2 - Giving Up the Ghost - Sean's Story - is now available.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma Daniels
• Release date: Oct 23, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458053985

Emma Daniels

Emma Daniels lives in Sydney Australia, but also lived in Germany as a child. She is married with two children. She has been writing romantic novels for most of her life, and the results are clear - more than 10 books to her name. She is also a jewellary artist. Her favourite mediums are chain maille and artistic wire work. If she's not beading, writing, reading, or with her children, she's working part time at the job that pays the bills.

Book preview

Ghost of a Chance

Emma Daniels

Copyright 2011 by Emma Daniels

Smashwords Edition

CHAPTER ONE

It had been a long time since Natalie Scott had seen the cute beachside cottage. Knowing it to be one of the few original homesteads still standing, she’d gone looking for it about five years ago. As soon as she saw it, Natalie had fallen in love with the hundred year old house, set apart from the other properties on a large secluded block of land. What amazed her most of all was that the lovely old house was now being let.

It couldn’t have come at a better time. Natalie and her younger brother, Trevor, hadn’t been getting on since their mother died two months ago, so some time apart would do them both good. The extra rent would cut a deep swathe through her meagre childcare worker’s wage, but it would only be for six months.

Owner’s gone overseas on holiday. Fully furnished three bedroom cottage with panoramic ocean views – available NOW, the advertisement had read.

Natalie knew Trevor’s moodiness and bursts of temper were due to bereavement, but she couldn’t handle his tantrums, probably because she was grieving too.

Both siblings missed their mother terribly. The cancer that ravaged her body had already been well advanced by the time Donna went to the doctor to find out what was wrong with her. By then it had been too late for any kind of treatment other than palliative care.

Natalie had been working in western Sydney at a child care centre for emotionally and physically disadvantaged children when she heard the news that her mother was dying. Even though she loved her work there, she’d resigned to be with Donna in her final months. Because of her concern for Trevor, Natalie had stayed on in the southern New South Wales town of Ulladulla.

She’d only recently secured employment with the Little People Day Care Centre. It was more out of good luck than good management that she’d landed the job, because a staff member had left to start a family of her own.

Now she wondered if she’d ever return to Sydney. Rick Dalton wanted her back. They had been dating for about eighteen months, but Natalie questioned the future of their relationship. He knew the reason she’d come home, but couldn’t understand why she was still there.

Sitting in her ancient Ford Festiva staring at the house wasn’t helping her get the lease to it, so she reversed the battered old car out of the driveway, and headed back into town.

Not even the extra fifteen minutes drive to and from work each day was a deterrent. In fact it was a peasant trip along the beachfront. Few of these houses were owned by holiday makers anymore. Summer and the school holidays would soon be upon them. If Natalie rented the hundred year old house she’d be able to escape the rat-race her home town turned into every Christmas.

She stopped outside the agent’s window to glance at the advertisement again, and caught sight of her reflection in the glass.

Jeans and T-Shirts were a must in her profession, but right now Natalie wished she owned something more professional. The agent was bound to think her a beach-bum ready to skip out on the rent dressed like this. She hadn’t even bothered with make-up, something else she never wore when dealing with a hoard of noisy, under five year olds.

Her long, straight, chestnut brown hair was held back by an ancient scrunchie, drawing attention to the paleness of her face. The stress of the past few months had caused her to lose weight, and her hollowed cheekbones emphasized the fullness of her lips. Her recent loss still reflected in her large hazel eyes, giving them an almost haunted quality. She was tall, with long legs her faded jeans hugged a little too snugly. Luckily her plain but rather rumpled blue blouse was loose, hiding her more than ample bust-line.

Oh well, what they see is what they get, she decided with a shake of her head. If I wait until tomorrow the cottage might be gone.

These agents are new too, Natalie mused, as she pushed the heavy glass door open. She stepped into a large waiting area with potted plants strategically positioned around the room.

The young woman behind the reception desk glanced up at her. Can I help you? she asked politely. She of course was wearing make-up, a crisp white work shirt and perfectly styled bobbed blonde hair.

Yes. I was inquiring about the advertisement in the window for the cottage to rent, Natalie replied in her most professional voice. Used to talking to two and three year olds it came out sounding rather strained.

Oh yes. One moment, I’ll get Dieter for you. She got up and disappeared down the corridor.

A moment later she returned with a tall, middle-aged man in tow. His blond hair was liberally streaked with silver, but he was still handsome in an aloof, commanding sort of way.

You’re interested in the cottage by the sea? he asked in a heavily accented voice.

Yes I am. My name’s Natalie Scott, she introduced herself, politely taking the hand he offered her. Please excuse my attire. I work at a child care centre you see, she went on, as he regarded her through steely blue eyes. He, of course, was wearing a neat white shirt and tie.

Dieter Messer. I’m not dealing with that particular property. My son is handling that for a friend. He should be back soon. Would you care to wait?

If he isn’t too long, yes I’ll wait. She’d wait half the night if it meant getting to live in her dream home for six glorious months.

Would you like a cup of tea or coffee? he offered. Pamela here will get it for you.

Thanks, but no, she replied, slipping into a comfortable lounge chair in the waiting area.

A moment later he was gone, and Pamela resumed her position behind the desk to continue typing on her computer keyboard.

Natalie started thinking about the relaxing weekends she’d have at the cottage. She visualized herself sitting on the shaded verandah with a cool drink, reading a fantasy novel and listening to her favorite artists on her iPod, or merely letting the timeless rhythm of the waves against the shore relax her frazzled nerves. She desperately craved peace and quiet. She had to have that cottage.

The sound of male voices talking in a foreign language in the hall behind Pamela’s work station drew her out of her reverie. The young receptionist, realizing the other agent had returned, left her desk to join them. Natalie hoped it was to tell Messer Junior she was here about the cottage.

Karl will be with you in a moment, she informed Natalie with a polite smile. She’d obviously learnt good manners, unlike the impersonal man she worked for.

Before Natalie had the chance to wonder if the son was going to be equally as distant, he appeared in the corridor behind Pamela’s desk.

He was clearly a younger version of his father, with the same piercing, steely blue eyes that seemed to bore right through her. His blonde hair curled across his high forehead in thick waves. A renegade lock flopped attractively against one of his straight fair eyebrows. It made her think of Rick’s straggly brown hair that only seemed to look tidy when he had it tied back in a ponytail. This man had masses of it, and the neat style seemed to indicate he took considerable care with his appearance. Inanely she found herself wondering why he didn’t keep that stray curl in check.

He was even taller than his father and looked positively daunting with broad shoulders and a strong muscular body his business suit did nothing to hide.

If Natalie were to ignore the impassive expression on his face and the hard, uncompromising mouth, she’d give him eleven out of ten in the looks department. She couldn’t fault anything about his features, but the way he stood there regarding her with those ice-chip eyes of his, made her feel like an exhibit awaiting dissection under a glass lab slide.

She hated dealing with men in business suits at the best of times and his looked even more expensive than his father’s. In comparison Natalie felt like plain Jane on a bad day. She would have to rely on Sophie, her employer, to justify her suitability as a prospective tenant for the cottage.

Natalie Scott? he intoned in a deep baritone, and she rose to her feet.

She nodded, hating the way she suddenly felt so uneasy. Natalie didn’t normally feel so inadequate around anyone. Perhaps it was merely because he was so tall. Used to being able to look most men straight in the eye, it was rather disconcerting to come across one she actually had to look up to.

Karl Messer, he introduced himself. And you’re interested in the old house by the sea? His accent was nowhere near as pronounced as his father’s, but young people always seemed to adapt much quicker to their new country. Young? This man had to be in his early thirties at least, which to a twenty-five year old still seemed like a long way off.

Yes I am. I have a full-time job and can quite adequately afford the rent, she replied hurriedly.

Why don’t we go inside to discuss this, he said, moving aside to allow her to enter the office area. As she passed him, she had a sneaking suspicion he’d already made up his mind not to let the cottage to her, which of course only made her more determined than ever. She squared her shoulders and marched down the corridor to the open door at the end.

Natalie entered a large, airy room. A cold draft made her shiver as the blonde giant passed her and went to sit behind the massive desk under the window. It was covered in files and other assorted documents, as well as a computer, printer and scanner.

As Natalie sat down in the seat indicated, she resisted the urge to start tidying up the clutter. It was a habit she’d grown into from constantly needing to pick up after her young charges.

Through the window she could see the town sprawling into the distance, and its sheltered harbor with the constant coming and going of fishing trawlers. Karl Messer had obviously decided to make himself comfortable, for several famous impressionist prints adorned the walls and more potted plants stood strategically positioned around the office.

She turned away from the pictures to watch him recline gracefully into the high-backed leather chair behind his fortress of a desk.

At least it put a comfortable distance between them. Even being in the same room as this man was enough to put her nerves on edge. She suspected he derived great pleasure out of intimidating anyone behind in their rent.

So, tell me why you want to lease that cottage? he drawled.

I’ve always loved that cottage. she began.

So you’re a local then? he queried.

Yes. I worked in Sydney for a few years before returning six months ago.

And you have nowhere else to live?

Er… no, she lied.

Why?

He would have to ask that, she thought irritably. I just need a change, somewhere quiet and peaceful.

It’s only a six month lease, you realize, no more, no less.

Natalie nodded solemnly, wondering if she tickled him whether he’d crack a smile. Somehow she doubted he even knew how. She almost smiled herself at that rather inane thought. Working with young children had given her a humorous outlook on most aspect of life. Trying to come up with interesting and enjoyable children’s games demanded it. It had only been over the past few months that she’d been having trouble maintaining a cheerful disposition every day. Cheerful obviously wasn’t a word in this man’s dictionary.

Are you married? the handsome, hard-faced man asked.

Taken aback, Natalie simply gaped at him, wondering why he would possibly want to know that. If you mean, will I be the only tenant, then no, I’m not married.

I can’t let that house to a single woman living on her own, he announced.

What! she gasped. Hadn’t such attitudes gone out with the Ark?

It’s too isolated. If something went wrong, nobody would hear you. We do have places to let in town, he explained.

If I wanted a place in town I’d stay where I am, she blurted out, immediately regretting it.

Karl Messer leant forward in his chair and placed his elbows on the desk, steepling long fingers together. It narrowed the distance between them alarmingly. If he was planning to unnerve her he was doing an excellent job of it.

Pull yourself together girl. He’s only a man, for goodness sake. So what if he thinks he can act like the commander of an army battalion; you’re here to get that cottage, so be nice to the big, blonde brute.

So you do have somewhere to live? Why move out so far?

I have my reasons. No way was she sharing one iota of her personal life with this arrogant piece of work.

And what may they be?

I told you before. I just need to get away for a while but still be close enough to get to work.

And where’s that?

She told him. I really want to rent that house, and if you’re worried about my ability to cope on my own, I do have a guard dog.

He raised one of his eyebrows questioningly, the one partially obscured by the blonde lock of hair. A properly trained guard dog?

She found herself smiling as she imparted the following piece of information. Of course he’s trained. He’s a German shepherd called Adolf, and he’s got an extremely loud bark and enormous fangs.

To her amazement Karl Messer actually smiled. At least she thought he did. For a moment the corners of his severe mouth did turn up. But his eyes remained as cool and distant as the sea. You’re not just saying that because I’m German, are you?

No, I’m deadly serious. My brother bought him back from a fishing trip up north about two years ago. I think he would appreciate a change of scenery. Trevor of course wouldn’t. He considered Adolf his dog. Even if she couldn’t convince him to let her take Adolf she doubted Karl Messer would actually bother to check if he was guarding the property.

I’ll have to think about it, Miss Scott. I do have other people interested in the cottage, he finally said, after sitting there eyeing her for what felt like a good five seconds, no doubt another tactic to put her off the cottage.

Please Mr. Messer - I need that cottage. I do have a good job. My employer will vouch for me. I’m clean. I won’t bring any dubious visitors around. I know I don’t look my best today, but in my job it isn’t worth getting all dolled up, she gushed. God, how does one convince an impassive iceberg?

He was smiling again, but it was a mocking one, which never reached his penetrating blue eyes. He couldn’t care less that her future happiness depended on the tranquil solitude the beach house would bring.

How can I convince you, Mr Messer? she almost pleaded.

Oh, I think you’ve done admirably Miss Scott, but like I said, I do have other applicants to consider. Why don’t you leave me your name and number and I’ll get back to you about it later in the week.

I’ll ring you, she decided. There was no way she’d leave it up to him. He was bound to conveniently forget about her and offer the cottage to someone else.

As you wish. He rose to his feet and extracted a business card from a tray on his desk which he handed to her. Natalie snatched it from his fingers. She was about to shove it into her pocket, when she came across a sticky half-eaten lollypop she’d extricated from a pair of toddlers earlier in the day. Instead she slid it into her other pocket, reminding herself to throw out the fuzz covered sweet as soon as she saw a garbage bin.

Quite frankly you look perfectly fine to me. Those jeans do wonders for your legs, the blonde giant said as his intense blue eyes took in her fidgeting with his card.

She was tempted to leave the sticky lollypop as a souvenir, but instead bolted for the door.

Admitting she was single had probably been her biggest mistake. She should have pretended she had a partner. Just mentioning Rick Dalton’s name would have been enough. They hadn’t officially ended their relationship. She could have said he was coming to join her. Now Karl Messer thought he could flirt with her, did he?

As she left the real estate office, Natalie cursed all tall, blonde Nordic men who thought they were God’s gift to the Universe.

CHAPTER TWO

Natalie was still seething when she arrived for work the next morning.

The Little People Day Care Centre was run from a large single-story brick house in one of the streets running off the main thoroughfare. Its long back yard had a variety of playing equipment set up in it, and inside numerous educational games.

Of course all the staff felt they could do with an extra pair of hands. Natalie and Debbie were the only fully qualified child care workers. They had a part-time aide by the name of Rita and another part-time admin worker called Sophie. Even though they worked well together Sophie considered herself in charge, and because she had business qualifications, Natalie decided to use her as referee for the cottage.

The front door slammed behind her as she stomped into the house.

Not another late night with your head stuck in a fantasy saga? she heard Debbie’s voice from one of the bedrooms. It was rare to get all the children to sleep at the same time, but there were two rooms, one with cots for the babies, and the other with sleep mats for the older children. Natalie stopped in the doorway to see her colleague making up one of the cots.

Debbie was a short, plump woman in her late twenties. She wore her crop of wayward red curls secured on top of her head with a different brightly colored scarf every day. As a reflection of her bohemian personality, her clothes were just as vivid. The children loved them, as they loved the outgoing woman who donned them. Debbie lived in Milton, a small town several kilometres inland with her equally as eccentric husband, Lindsey.

No, I’ve spent half the night imagining ingenious ways getting back at a certain real estate agent, Natalie muttered, as she began unfolding a freshly laundered sheet.

It didn’t go too well I take it, Debbie concurred sympathetically.

I’m tempted to take Adolf into his office to introduce them to one another, and steal a line from the movie Ruthless People. Karl meet Adolf. Adolf eat Karl, or at least devour his silk tie and chew on his leg.

"You didn’t