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“I’m the ghost,” the man said cheerfully. “I live here.”

The ghost? The real estate agent had given her every emergency number in the county and directions on where to stand on the roof of her car to make a call, but she’d forgotten to mention the ghost?

“Jacob Marley, I presume?” Jessica snapped, but then she laughed. “My agent sent you, right?”

It had to have been Harry who set up this ridiculous practical joke. He was the only person who knew where she was, and only because he’d have called out the National Guard if his money tree went missing for two weeks.

The man disappeared. Jessica blinked and — poof! — he was gone. Before she could even react, he reappeared next to her. Instinct kicked in and she struck out, but he was kind of blurry and the heel of her hand passed right through his nose. Then he poofed again and reappeared a few feet away.

“That wasn’t nice.”

Neither were any of the words flying around in her mind, so she kept her mouth shut.

“If I was Jacob Marley I’d be dragging chains around,” he pointed out, and Jessica was surprised she could even hear him over the hysterical screaming in her head. “I’m Zachary Roberts, but everybody calls me Zach. Or they did when I was alive, anyway.”

“There’s too much fresh air up here,” she said, shaking her head. Sleepwalking and dreaming at the same time. She had to be. Despite being the queen of things that went bump in the night, Jessica didn’t believe in ghosts. Sleeping in a strange bed without the crappy air quality and ambient sounds of the city was clearly taking its toll on her.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I died?” Zach the ghost asked, jerking her away from her musings on her own mental state. “Everybody does.”

“No. I’m going back to bed.” Jessica spun and went into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Zach watched his guest slam the bedroom door in his face and sighed. Being a ghost was hell on a man’s ego.

He let his physical body dissipate and hovered in the room like a horny little ball of energy. At least in this form he didn’t have to deal with the hard-on from hell.

It sucked being dead. Once he’d mastered the art of becoming solid, he’d found himself fully-functional in the libido department. He could even have an orgasm, though there were no bodily fluids involved. Hell, the whole situation gave new meaning to safe sex, if only potential sex partners could just get past his being a ghost.

Sure, there had been a few open-minded ladies in the decade since the unfortunate incident with the roof, a string of lights and the inflatable Santa. But they invariably left him for guys who weren’t dead. He didn’t blame them, of course, but it made for a lonely eternal existence.

Zach found this woman more attractive than all of the cabin’s former tenants combined. She wasn’t skinny and she didn’t have crap painted all over her face to make her look and taste artificial. He shuddered, remembering the hideous waxy flavor of lipstick. This woman was nicely plump and curvy, with pretty blue eyes and tousled, shoulder-length blonde hair.

He knew her name was Jessica. The real estate agent had been yapping to the cleaning service lady when they were getting the cabin ready. But that was all he knew.

Well, that and the fact she wore no wedding ring and had no loved ones who cared if she was alone for the holidays. It was up to Zach to make her days merry and bright. And, if he was very lucky, he might get to make her nights jolly, as well.