Читать книгу Twice the Temptation - Cara Summers - Страница 7

MAKING A SALES PITCH to a ghost wasn’t something they’d covered in the MBA program at Harvard’s Business School. No, indeedy, thought Avery Cooper as he stepped into the tower room where the spirit of legendary film star Hattie Haworth had resided for some forty-five years.

Avery straightened his tie and took a deep breath. He’d been managing the Haworth House hotel for the Brightman sisters well over a year now, and he’d known right from the get-go that the original owner haunted the place. The story was that she’d fled to Belle Island to build her new home when both her marriage and her career had tanked in Hollywood.

She’d appeared to all three of the sisters right in this very room. Jillian Brightman, his best friend and excollege roommate, had included that piece of information when she’d hired him to manage the hotel.

Avery doubted that a dozen ghosts could have deterred him from accepting her job offer. Not once Jillian had explained what she and her sisters, Naomi and Reese, had in mind. And now, the picture she’d painted for him—a small exclusive hotel on an island off the coast of Maine—had become a reality.

He let his gaze sweep the tower room. Late afternoon sunlight slanted through a circle of windows, and the muted sound of the sea could be heard crashing on the rocks below. During the renovation, the tower room had been turned into an office/sitting room where each of the sisters worked when they were in residence. But fifty-five years ago, this was where Hattie Haworth and her lover, a man from the village, had shared their love and lived out their fantasies for nearly a year.

You’re stalling. Avery frowned. What in the world was wrong with him? In his line of work, he was never at a loss for words. And Hattie Haworth had already proven that she loved the sisters as much as he did. Not only had she played a role in saving both Naomi’s and Jillian’s lives but she’d brought them each together with their true loves by satisfying their most secret fantasies.

And the fantasies were what he needed to talk to Hattie about. Avery strode forward until he stood in front of the gilt-framed, beveled mirror. Peering into it, all he could see was his own reflection—a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned man in his late twenties. His grandmother would have approved of the clothes—a suit, tie and shirt in varying shades of gray. Grandma Cooper had always told him that it was important to dress well.

He could only hope that Hattie shared that opinion. But so far, he saw no sign of that in the glass. All three of the sisters claimed to have glimpsed Hattie Haworth’s image in the mirror. Naomi and Jillian had also claimed to have carried on one-sided conversations with her.

Shit. He fingered his tie again. He hadn’t been this nervous when he’d defended his Masters thesis at Harvard.

“Hattie, I’m Avery Cooper. You may have seen me around.”

Duh. Get to the point. “I came to talk to you about an idea I have. It concerns your fantasy box and Reese.”

Avery blinked, then narrowed his eyes. Was that the tiniest flash of light he’d seen in the mirror?

“Jillian told me all about how she found your secret room and the hat box with the fantasies in it, how she and her sisters each chose an envelope out of it on the night they bought Haworth House.”

He paused, but saw nothing in the mirror. Had he imagined it?

“Okay, old news. But I want you to know that I think the world of the two men Naomi and Jillian have hooked up with as a result of those fantasies. Dane and Ian MacFarland are the best.” In his opinion, the two men were perfect matches for Naomi and Jillian. Now, if Hattie could just work the same magic for Reese …

This time he was sure he saw a shimmer of light. Just for an instant. But it was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

Okay, you’ve got her attention. Now all you have to do is sell it.

“I have this idea. Reese is a bang-up chef. The whole menu here at the hotel is hers. And she designed the kitchen. She’s so good that the pilot she filmed for a syndicated cooking show in L.A. has just sold thirteen episodes.”

Get to the point. “But she hasn’t been back to visit the hotel in a while. She’s moved all her stuff in, but she hasn’t really made the place her home. Reese claims she’s too busy. But even now, when she’s on a break from filming her new TV series, she’s holed up in L.A.”

Avery stepped closer to the mirror. “I’m wondering if she’s worried about that parchment envelope she drew out of your fantasy box. You know, you’re two for two in the fantasy-fulfillment department. If I’d drawn one out, I might be a little nervous, too.”

When he paused to take a breath, Avery was almost sure he heard a sound. Laughter?

Narrowing his eyes, he raised both hands, palms outward. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m okay in the fantasy department. My partner and I are very happy.”

Nothing.

When in doubt, forge ahead. “The thing is, I’d like to see Reese as happy as her sisters.” He cleared his throat. “And she’s not. What I think she needs is a good nudge. And you’re the best nudger I know. So I came up with the idea of offering a Singles Weekend here at the hotel, one that would include events—beach picnics and other activities like hiking and sailing—so that singles with similar interests can hook up with each other. I did some fast talking and convinced Reese she needed to be here for it. Her sisters and their fiancés are all traveling and I told her one of the owners had to be around.” He waved a hand. “Yada, yada, yada. I’ve even persuaded her to do a little hands-on cooking demo on Sunday afternoon for the foodies.”

Avery stopped and drew in a deep breath.

When he paused this time, there were no lights, no laughs. He hoped he was good at selling ideas. But he hadn’t mentioned the kicker yet.

“Once she’s here, I figure it will be up to you to handle the rest, the way you did for her sisters.” He drew in a breath and let it out. “But here’s the part I thought I ought to talk to you about.”

Nothing.

“I want to use the fantasies in your box as an added marketing draw. We’ll have a mixer party on the first night and allow those singles interested to draw out one of the parchment envelopes. We might not get any takers, considering that only the locals know about your fantasy box. The sisters have kept it pretty quiet. But when I was thinking about how to get Reese here for a few days so that you could deal with her fantasy, I thought, why not offer the opportunity to someone else? And then …” Avery waved a hand. “What will happen, will happen.”

Any minute now he was going to break out into a chorus of “Que sera, sera” from that old Doris Day film.

For a moment the air around him stilled. And in the reflection in the mirror, he saw a panel in the wall behind him slide open.

The secret room.

He’d heard Naomi and Jillian both speak of it, but he’d never seen it. Turning, he strode to it, and sure enough, there on the floor was a linen-covered hat box. Lifting it, he carried it with him to face the mirror again.

On the cover he read the words Fantasy Box: Choose carefully. The one you draw out will come true.

Though the sisters had all spoken about the warning, seeing the words for the first time sent a little shiver up Avery’s spine.

He shifted his gaze to the mirror. “This isn’t for the faint of heart. But I’m going to assume I have your approval.”

For a moment, he could have sworn that the sound of the ocean grew louder. Then he saw two images take form in the mirror—a woman in a long white dress with reddish gold curls falling to her shoulders and a tall man with fair hair standing with her, their hands joined.

Both of them were smiling.

Even after the images faded, Avery stared into the glass for a long time.