PART I

Jesse stopped on a dime in front of the old white house.

"This is it?"

He smiled, careening his head to see though the tint of the window. "This is it."

I hit him on the side of the head.

"You waisted two-hundered thousand dollars of our savings . . . for this?"

He rubbed his head where I had hit him. "Yes," he said. "I did."

"And you want to turn this . . . this . . . piece of ninetieth-century junk into a doctor's office?"

"Yes," he said, still clam. "I do."

"And do you realize it's old? As old as you? And we'll probably have to get rid of, like, twenty ghosts before we can do anything in it?"

He sighed. "Have a little hope, Susannah."

I stared at him. Jesse was an amazing guy, that was true.

I mean, he had died, came back to life, graduated collage, finished med school in three years, been resident of the month for a total of fourteen months, been resident of the year two years in a row, been offered a shift manager job at UCLA six months before he finished his resident hours . . .

And had turned it all down to live here, in Carmel, and open his own practice.

So albeit he's amazing, he can make some pretty stupid decisions.

"Susannah," he groaned, putting his head on the headrest. "Just come see the inside. Once you do you'll see I'm right."

I laughed. "Me? In there? So the ghosts can find me? Not a chance."

He took a deep breath. "I've been in there numerous times. There are no ghosts."

"Oh, there are ghosts. Ghosts just aren't attracted to you like they are me."

He sighed and, getting out of the car, came and opened my door.

"Out," he said.

I shook my head.

To my surprise he reached in, unbuckled me, picked me up, and carried me up the three steps to the front door, me kicking and screaming the whole way.

He unlocked it and pushed me in.

The room we first walked into was big - it must have been a living room. The walls and floors were made of a sturdy looking wood, and the large windows on the front had been cleaned so that the sun shone in brightly.

"It's perfect for a reception room. All we need is some chairs and couches."

"And paint," I said. "And a serious termite bond."

He sighed, but ignored me. "Here," he said, pointing to the back wall, "we can have a reception desk. Then back here," we walked to the hall behind the living room, where there where several doors, "we can have three exam rooms, as well as the bathroom. Then the kitchen." He showed me the room farthest away which had appliance outlets and plumbing for a kitchen.

He led me up the creaky steps next, and showed me the large bedroom he planed to use for an office. "And," he said, gesturing to the reaming two rooms, "we have room for files and simple lab equipment." He eyed me speciously. "What do you think?"

I shrugged. "It's your thing."

"No, it's not," he said, taking my hand. "It's ours. You're going to be right here with me."

I sighed. "It's okay, I guess. It's just going to take a lot of work. A lot of favors from Andy."

He smiled. "You think he'll help?"

I shrugged. "Probably. Especially since he's not doing much, now that Brad's kind of running his company."

"And we will have to do the painting and things of that nature."

"I know," I said.

"But I did have it cleaned, so we don't have to worry about that."

"Seriously?" I asked, looking around.

"Yes," he sighed.

"So when are we going to start?"

He sighed wistfully. "Tomorrow, I guess."

L7L7L7L7

That night we laid in bed without talking. I was still kind of pissed he blew that money on that . . . house.

We were facing opposite ways, and I made sure that we weren't touching. I heard Jesse sigh.

"Did I make the right decision?" he asked quietly.

I didn't say anything, hoping he would think I was asleep. But then guilt rushed over me and I sighed and snapped, "I don't know, Jesse."

"Because I have a thirty day termination agreement. We can move to Los Angles and I can have job security. We can have financial security."

"But you would hate it," I said. He didn't answer, and I turned over so I could look into his eyes. They shinned clearly, even in the darkness of our room. "And you wouldn't get your dream. There would be no reason for you to have become a doctor - because all you have ever wanted to do is have your practice."

He just looked at me, silently agreeing.

"I'm sorry I'm being a butt about all this." I sighed. "Are we turning into an old married couple that fights all the time?"

He laughed. "Three years of marriage hardly counts as old."

I took my hand through his soft hair. "It's just . . . well, a chance, I guess, that I'm a little scared to take. I like the ways things are now."

"Maybe I should stay at the hospital, then," he sighed.

I sighed, too. "No, Jesse. Just because I'm comfortable doesn't mean it's what's right."

He put his hand on my hip. "So what do we do?"

I smiled. "Pick out paint tomorrow. I was thinking a nice subdued green for the waiting room. Oh, and tile."

He smiled, too, and kissed me. "Thank you, querida," he whispered. "For setting my mind at ease over all of this."

"That's what I'm here for," I said with a smile, and kissed his nose. "Go to sleep now, Jesse. We've got a long day of painting tomorrow."

L7L7L7L7

We picked out our paint and hauled all five buckets of it into the house.

I showed Jesse how to paint evenly with the roller, and we split sides of the room.

I guess this wasn't so bad. I mean, the house was pretty, and Jesse told me the inspector had given it the all-clear before he had bought it.

It was a smart decision on Jesse's part, I guess. Our other alternative would have been to rent an office space a little further into town, and have to pay rent every month. At least we could, eventually, pay this house off.

And the view form the "exam rooms" (they had been bedrooms at one time) was really beautiful - you could see the sand and the waves over the little hills of the dunes. Very relaxing, I guess you could say.

I dipped my roller in the paint, and, taking my time, watched Jesse. He looked so wonderful, with his shirt raising up to expose his back and his muscles flexing.

I took one of the paint brushes we had laying aside and, after dipping it in paint, flung it up and down, splattering Jesse's back with paint.

He stopped his even rolling on the wall and slowly turned my way.

I smiled at him and flung some more paint at him. This time it got in his hair and on his face.

He sighed and re-wet his roller. "You really shouldn't have done that, querida," he said, trying to be ominous about it.

"Why?" I asked with a smile.

He came over to me and, grabbing my wrist so I couldn't run, pulled off my shirt and painted a long strip down my torso.

I stared at him, shocked, as he threw my shirt on the ground and smiled at me. "Oh, it's on, Jesse."

We went on for about ten minutes painting each other's bodies, taking off piece by piece of our clothes. One thing led to another, and, well, you get the picture.

After we had, um, dried off, Jesse pulled one of the many old blankets covering the floor over us. I snuggled into his shoulder and sighed.

"You finalized it, Susannah," he whispered in my ear.

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking up to see his smile.

"Well, we can't sell it now that we've had sex in it. On the floor."

"With paint."

"With paint," he agreed.

I laughed. "You know, I don't think I really want to sell it anymore. Too many memories already."

He laughed, too.

My phone, which was in the back pocket of my jeans, which were laying to the left of me, started ringing.

I fished it out and answered.

"Suze!" Andy said happily. "I was just going to stop by and see what kind of work you wanted to do on that house."

"Oh! Sure, come on. But - where are you now?"

"Just pulling out of the driveway. Be there in ten minutes."

"Okay! See you then!" I hung up the phone and said, "Get dressed," to Jesse.

"Why?"

"Andy's coming in ten minutes."

"Susannah, querida, look at me."

I did - there were green handprints all over him . . . especially in a certain area of interest.

"Oh well," I said. "Just put on your clothes and we'll say we . . . just got really into painting." I sat up and pulled on my underwear, then my bra. (Which, thanks to my wonderful husband, now had a big strip of green down it.) My jeans and t shirt followed.

Jesse got dressed, too, and we started picking up after our little escapade.

By the time Andy knocked on the door, it looked just like it had a half hour ago. Except for us, of course.

"You two get into a paint fight, or something?" he asked, looking at our paint-stained arms and feet and various other places.

I inwardly groaned. You could probably see the green strip strait through my white tee.

"Yeah," Jesse said calmly. "You know how Susannah likes to start things."

"Hardy-har," I said, letting Andy through the door.

He looked around. "Wow," he said. "Nice place. You said you got a deal on it?"

Jesse gave me a satisfied smirk.

"Yeah," I said, "but there's a lot of work that needs to be done. A whole lot."

"Like what?"

"Well," I started, "we need to build a big receptionist's desk back here, and we need shelves in the rooms and the stairs are super creaky, and the plumbing - "

"Just a few things that we would be happy to pay you for, if you can help us," Jesse said, cutting me off. I crossed my arms, but held my tongue.

"Well," Andy said, rubbing his chin. "I hate to ask you to pay - "

"It's no problem," Jesse said with a smile.

Andy shrugged. "How bout half price for family. I'll get Brad to send a team out tomorrow."

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Sure, kid. Of course, I'll want some free doctor's visits in return."

Jesse gave me another smirk.

L7L7L7L7L7

The day passed with no further revelation. I fact, it ended like any other day - me, seducing Jesse before he could seduce me. My head on his warm chest while our breathing calmed down. My ear on his heart.

"Susannah," he said, a low vibration in his chest.

"Mm-hum."

"I have been meaning to ask you . . . When do you want to, um, think about having children?"

I paused, then pulled myself up onto my elbows to look at him. "Think about it? Or actually do it?"

"Um, both."

I sighed. "Jesse, I don't know. I mean, trying to start the practice and everything is a lot on us right now, don't you think?"

His eyes flew over my face, looking for an answer. "So how long?"

I sighed. "Another year or two. Don't you think?" I took my hand through his hair.

He looked a little dejected. "I'm not getting any younger, querida."

I laughed. "I wouldn't worry about that, Jesse. You're my stud, remember?" I played with his hair.

"But you aren't getting any younger, either, dear."

I sent him a hard look. "I'm twenty-seven, Jesse. That's hardly over-the-hill."

"I know. I didn't mean it."

"You better not have," I growled.

"Forget I even mentioned it," he breathed, and rolled over.