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“Wonderful,” he purrs, pressing in closer. “I love a cuddler. And aren’t you nice and warm. I love it.”

My libido starts making a ruckus.

Fuck. Several hours ago, I told myself to be sensible. This date was going to be all about showing him a good time, then letting Beau down gently, convincing him there really isn’t anything between us.

Instead, I’m becoming persuaded that there is something there. Something I want to explore, even if it has my balls sweating.

“How long has it been, really, since you were last in a relationship?” Beau asks.

I run a hand through my hair. “God, this is embarrassing, but almost seven years? Jesus, yeah, seven,” I admit. “How about you?”

“About four. I’ve gone on some dates here and there since then, but after my last big breakup, I decided not to hide any aspects of who I am anymore.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I’m ashamed to say I’d gotten into the habit of withholding certain details about myself—namely my ghost whisperer abilities—from men I was romantically interested in. By that point, I’d had too many experiences with guys hightailing it in the other direction the second I mentioned anything about being a real-life Haley Joel Osment. I decided to try establishing a deeper emotional connection first and then gently easing them into the subject. But that, sadly, didn’t work either.”

We stop and take a moment to look out over the water.

“I’m sorry. That’s bloody awful.”

“Death is a topic a lot of folks don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.” He chuckles bitterly. “And if death’s a part of your identity, even just a little bit, they skedaddle before you’ve even had a chance to explain yourself. I suspect coroners and morticians have similar difficulties with dating, but at least the dead don’t speak to them. That’s enough to terrify most people, if they even believe me.” He looks at me with a starry-eyed gaze. “That’s why I feel like it was destiny that we met. You’re the first man I’ve ever known who also has this ability.” He grins. “But that’s not the only thing that drew me to you, big fella. I’ve told you this many times, but you’re seriously sexy and definitely my type.”

With that kind of praise, and him pressing his body into mine and making me tingle all over, I’m having trouble forming any kind of response.

This might also be why I haven’t had a fucking relationship in so long.

“Seven years is a long time, especially for a man in his prime,” Beau muses.

“Christ, I’m forty-three. Some days, I feel bloody ancient.”

Especially when I have a flare-up and can barely walk.

“I’m twenty-nine, turning thirty next month,” Beau says. “So there’s thirteen years between us. That’s not too bad.” He winks at me. “I’ve always preferred older men.”

Good God, no wonder he’s got so much energy and vitality.

I’ve never dated anyone that much younger than me, which gives me pause.

But before I can comment on that, Beau asks, “How have you dealt with your… needs these past seven years?”

I snort. Now he’s trying to be demure?

I think that ship’s sailed, sweetheart.

My dick also decides it’d really like Beau to help meet its needs. Tonight, if possible.

Fuck.

I clear my throat and work on willing away my aspiring erection. “When I worked for the Met, I dated a little, had casual sex with the odd person here or there that I found attractive, people who didn’t mind that I wasn’t able to provide the kind of emotional commitment of a more serious relationship, let alone the time to devote to one. After the accident…” I pause to sort how I want to say the next bit. “Well, let’s just say that I was focusing primarily on my rehabilitation and coping with the emotional fallout of everything that happened those first two years. Being forced to retire, recovering from major physical injury, coming to terms with nearly dying, and then being able to see the dead. It was a lot.”

Beau makes a noise of commiseration. “Near-death experiences are extremely traumatic, so it’s understandable that it took you time to come to terms with all that.”

I give a bitter laugh. “Hell, I think I’m still working on coming to terms with it. I do admit, I’m in a better place now than I was then. Therapy helped, and once I wasn’t trapped in a hospital bed anymore, that improved my frame of mind greatly.”

“You mentioned you had a back injury and nerve damage?”

He looks up at me, no hint of guile in his open expression, just empathetic curiosity.