The Ghost Downstairs by Molly Ringle

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After making a fatal mistake on the job, Lina Zuendel seeks shelter in a Seattle assisted-living facility as their live-in nurse. But peace is not what she finds. She soon hears tales of ghosts haunting the house, and of two tragic deaths that took place in the 1930s. Unexplained events send her to ask questions of the handsome resident houseboy.

Ren Schultz, a seemingly young live-in houseboy, tries to avoid his growing attraction to the new nurse. His secrets are too dangerous to share, no matter how lonely he has become. But Lina is persistent, and soon uncovers dark truths that no one else has dared to face.

As their attraction grows, so does the intensity of the paranormal activity. Can their love survive the mysteries that lurk in the old sorority house?

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No, still impossible. Marla loved Alan; everyone knew that. She wouldn't cheat on him. Besides, Marla and Ren never sparkled with chemistry around each other, the way lovers would. In fact, the only people Ren had shown affection to, in Lina's memory, were herself and the old ladies--and with the old ladies it was just a grandchild variety of affection.

Which left herself. Lina smiled and wriggled down against the cushions. Marla must have seen it too, and for some reason didn't like it. Maybe she feared they would engage in tactless displays of passion if they started dating--shocking the elders by making out in the kitchen or pinching each other in the parlor. (As if Mrs. B would be shocked. She would only laugh. And George Lambert would yell encouragements.)

Lina stifled a snort of laughter in her shoulder. The idea was absurd. Marla ought to have known they would behave themselves. Just imagine Ren settling down on top of her now, on this elegant living room sofa--planting a knee on either side of her hips, twining his fingers into hers and pushing them into the cushions, bending to press warm lips to her mouth and taste her tongue--no, she and Ren would never do such things.

Unfortunately, she drifted into a dream in which they were doing exactly such things. His hands coasted along her breasts, caressing them through her sweater; his hips sank heavy against hers; his mouth tasted of roses, odd but alluring. She murmured and sighed to him, inviting and pleading for more.

He pushed himself up then, his weight lifting from her body. "Why did you stop?" she protested.

She opened her eyes. Her heart failed her for a moment.

Ren himself leaned over her.He stood behind the sofa, resting his elbows on the back of it and leafing through Pride and Prejudice, which he must have picked up from her chest. Her face felt hot. Lord, she hadn't moaned in her sleep, had she?

Ren smiled. "Sorry. Didn't want to wake you up, but George was looking for you."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"I wouldn't know, but it's 11:30 now." He turned a page, smile still pressing a dimple into his cheek. "Sounded like a vivid dream."

Kill me now, she begged the powers above. She cleared her throat, sat up, and patted her hair. "Hm. Weird. Don't really remember. Um, what does George want?"