Читать книгу Shiver / Private Sessions: Shiver / Private Sessions - Jo Leigh, Tori Carrington - Страница 15

BY THE TIME ERIN sat down on the opposite side of the table, Carrie was already into her first sketch.

People were still settling in, raising their voices with excited chatter as they found their pumpkins and their seats. According to the program, there would be announcements about the nighttime activities, then a talk about the contest itself, explaining the rules and demonstrating how to make a pattern and transfer it to the gourds.

“You look happy,” Erin said, gripping her coffee cup with the strength of one not fully awake. “Did you get laid?”

Carrie darted a glance at the long-haired woman sitting next to Erin, who smiled at her enquiringly. “No,” Carrie said, trying to give Erin the eye, which didn’t work. “I didn’t. But I clearly got more sleep than you. What time did you hit the room?”

“Too late. Or would that be too early? Sorry I missed you for breakfast. I had the best pancakes in the history of pancakes. I think I’m going to put on twenty pounds while I’m here, and I couldn’t care less.”

Carrie ignored the complaint as she decided she wasn’t thrilled with her drawing. She crumpled it, then took another sheet of paper. “So, still no ghosts?”

“Not yet. Some more suspicious temperature readings, though. The honchos are setting up inside the inn for later tonight. I’m going to be in the Old Hotel tonight. I’m so excited. It feels … Something’s going to happen tonight. I feel it. You know?”

“Absolutely not, but good for you. Keep that positive thought. I mean, come on, what ghost wouldn’t want to meet you? They’d have to be insane to pass up the opportunity.”

“Yeah.” Erin’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m a bundle of delight.”

“Shut up. You are.”

“I need more caffeine.”

“I’ll say. What do you think of your pumpkin?”

Erin gave it a look, but her expression didn’t change a bit. “It’s a pumpkin.”

“You don’t want to change it for another?”

“I don’t care. I’m not gonna do anything with it. You’re going to win, and I want to bask in your reflected glory.”

“I know just what I want, but I’m not quite getting it,” Carrie admitted. “I’m a bit distracted.”

“Oh?” Only her best friend would have made the connection directly from that banal sentence to “something happened with Sam.”

“Yes, oh.”

“Do tell.”

Carrie looked at Erin’s neighbor. Unabashed, the woman, who had a nice heart-shaped face that shouldn’t have been so hidden by her lank dark hair, smiled and waited.

“Later.”

“Spoilsport.” Erin moved the pumpkin and the supplies to one side, then put her head down in the hollow of her crossed arms. “Wake me when something juicy happens.”

Carrie stared at her blank paper, but before she touched it with her pencil, she looked up. Sam was two aisles away, his back to her. Even though she knew it was a little sexist and definitely shallow, she loved the contrast between his broad shoulders and trim hips. With his hair over his collar and the way his black jeans hugged his ass, he was kind of perfect.

There wouldn’t be time to discover the inevitable annoying things, for either of them. He didn’t have to know she liked to eat her cereal with juice instead of milk, or ketchup on her cold spaghetti. Or that sometimes she would get so involved with her comic that whole days would pass without her realizing it.

He turned just then, as if he’d known she was looking at him. A smile curved his lips, and his right eyebrow arched with their secret. She blushed. Her stomach did that dip-and-swirl thing that hardly ever happened to her.

A part of her wanted to forget everything and drag him off to her room right this second, but the bigger part wanted to keep this feeling for as long as possible. Anticipation, in her experience, always exceeded reality.

One of the few children in the room tapped Sam’s shoulder, and the moment was gone except in memory. She bent to her paper, determined to get what she saw in her mind’s eye to come to life on a stencil drawing.

NOW, THIS WAS WHY HE had no business hooking up with a guest. At least not right now. Sam was in the middle of dinner with the buyers and Mori was asking him questions about the local skiing and snowboarding. Sam was having a hell of a time keeping focused. Carrie might be hot, but she wasn’t multimillion-dollars hot.

What kept tripping him up was that it was almost time for the contest to come to a close, when the group would pick a winner. He felt disloyal hoping it wouldn’t be Carrie, but he didn’t want her to get the in-room massage from anyone but himself.

He answered Mori’s questions without making a fool of himself, glad the three of them were on the tail end of dessert. Of course Jody had outdone herself again, and both Heartly and Mori seemed sated and happy, and not just from the meal.

“Are you going to stick around for any of the ghost hunting tonight?” Sam asked. “They’re setting up in the attic and in the garage. Oh, and the storage room, which should be warm. I’m not sure if they’ve picked out any of the guest rooms to monitor.”

Heartly shook his head. “I’m reasonably sure if anyone had actually found evidence of a ghost it would have been in the headlines. I think I’m safe turning in early.”

Mr. Mori took a sip of coffee then nodded. “That’s the thing with legends and folk tales. Hard to prove, but hard to disprove, too. My family has a long tradition of believing in the afterlife. Personally, I wouldn’t mind finding out they’re right. There are a few things I’d like to know about what happens next.”

“What happens next for me,” Heartly said, as he folded his napkin and put it on the table, “is a shower and bed. I’m going to call my wife, hope there’s something decent on the tube, and relax. This has been an eventful couple of days. You have a fine property here, Sam. It’s well cared for and both your staff and your guests seem happy. I know your father would be proud.”

“Thanks. He loved this place. It resonated with him.”

“You won’t miss it once you’re gone?”

“From time to time, I think it’s inevitable. But that’s the thing about moving on. I’ve got films of my folks, of the grounds. I’ve transferred them and all my pictures to digital. They’re safe and available when I’m hit by a bout of nostalgia.”

“Good,” Mr. Mori said. “I have some work to do, so I’ll also be heading upstairs. I, too, thank you for your hospitality. And please, don’t bother coming down tomorrow, if it’s just to see us off. If there’s a problem, I’m sure your people can handle it.”

Heartly nodded, then stood, and after handshakes without promises, the buyers left the restaurant.

Sam felt relief, but also let down. He’d been hyped up about this for so long that the anticlimax hit hard. The best thing to do now was distract himself. Luckily, he knew exactly how he was going to do just that.

“OH, MY GOD,” ERIN SAID, staring at Carrie’s finished pumpkin. “You did get laid.”

“Shhh!” Carrie ignored the woman next to Erin, knowing she was certainly grinning as broadly as half the jack-o’-lanterns in the room. “I did not.”

Her friend leaned over the table, pushed her disheveled hair out of her face and looked at Carrie with wide, accusing eyes. “Liar. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

Carrie turned the pumpkin so that her art couldn’t be seen. It wasn’t as if she’d drawn Sam naked or anything. No one would even know it was Sam. All she’d drawn was a back. The rear view from thighs up. Narrow hips, broad shoulders, hair scraping a collar. A hint of arms, a sense of movement. She’d paid particular attention to the butt, but that was an artistic statement. Nothing whatsoever to do with Halloween, but she liked it. She wanted to carve it, see if she could make it come alive on the pumpkin itself. “I have no idea what you’re so loudly talking about.”

“Come on. Tell me. I’ve got nothin’ here. No ghosts. No sparks, and I’m getting fatter by the second. I need you to tell me what happened.”

After a dramatic sigh, Carrie leaned forward. “We kind of made plans.”

“What kind?”

At least they were whispering, although Carrie had the feeling they weren’t quiet enough. “For later.”

“Details, woman. Details.”

She lowered her voice further, put her hand in front of her mouth. “He promised me a massage.”

“What?” Erin asked, her voice a veritable trumpet.

“Shhh. Dammit. I’m going to get coffee. You sit here, young lady, and think about what you’ve done.”

“The hell with that.” Erin got up and followed Carrie to the back of the room to the giant coffee urns. The second they were reasonably alone, she poked Carrie in the side. “Spill.”

It was a damn good thing she didn’t know anyone in the place, or plan to ever see any of them again, because she was certain that in approximately ten minutes, the word around the conference would be how the nonbeliever was also a total slut. “All we did was talk. I was interested in the in-room massage prize. He said that could be arranged.” She smiled at Erin. “Even if I didn’t win.”

“Ha. I knew it. From that first minute. Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I say? Oh, I’m so jealous. He’s like the only doable guy in this whole place. Except for maybe Liam.”

“Liam, the conference coordinator? The married conference coordinator? His wife is here.”

“I’m not gonna jump him. Sheesh. I’m just making an observation.”

“That’s what you get for hanging around ghost hunters.”

“Hey, Sam is a believer. Remember?”

“He can believe in whatever he wants,” she said, cupping her coffee between her hands. “As long as he’s as great underneath those clothes as he is in them.”

Someone behind Carrie coughed. Not a real cough. The kind of cough that said she was busted. Even before she turned, Carrie knew who it was. Yep. The woman from their table.

“I like your pumpkin,” she said sweetly.

“Thanks.”

“I’m sure you’ll win the prize.” The woman, whose white T-shirt said Dude, Run in big black letters, gave her a grin, then walked away without even the pretense of getting a beverage.

“This just keeps getting better,” Erin said, taking way too much pleasure in Carrie’s embarrassment.

But Carrie’s attention was diverted when she saw that Sam had come into the room. In fact, he was standing by their table, looking at her pumpkin. And he was grinning with all the subtlety of a tree falling on a house.

“He,” Erin stated, “is hot. Very, very hot.”

“I got dibs,” Carrie said, which was probably obvious from the blush warming her cheeks.

“Come on.” Erin took her arm with her free hand and led Carrie to the table. To Sam. As soon as she was in range, Erin said, “Hey, Pumpkin. How you doin’?”

Carrie didn’t sock her friend, even though she wanted to. Instead, she smiled as innocently as she could. “Here to start the judging?”

He nodded. “I just announce, the group will judge.”

Erin set her cup down. “I’ll bet the female faction will vote for Carrie’s. Although it’s not at all scary.”

“Really?” Sam asked. “You don’t find that frightening? “

Erin touched his shoulder. “Sorry, babe. It’s the best-looking thing in these parts. Except for the inspiration.”

“Erin.” Carrie couldn’t have put more nuance on the name if she’d tried. It said Shut up, stop it, go to your room, and we may be on vacation, but I can still kick your ass.

Erin just laughed. She took her seat, crossed her arms over her Ghosts Do It in the Dark T-shirt and stared at the two of them as if they were on high-def TV. The Soap Channel.

“Go do your thing,” Carrie said, abandoning all hope of getting through tonight with any dignity.

“I’ll see you after?”

She nodded.

Sam hesitated, then took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Good.”

Carrie watched him as he meandered through the crowd, commenting to the participants, especially the younger ones. It occurred to her that this was all her own damn fault, and if she hadn’t wanted the hotel populace to know she wanted to sleep with the owner, she should have drawn a spooky little ghost and kept her mouth shut.

So she sat, resigned. “You can stop looking so delighted. I admit it. All of it.” Then Carrie turned to Erin’s neighbor. “And you can stop it, too.”

The “Dude, Run” woman burst out laughing. “You have to admit. I didn’t have to work very hard.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I’m Lulu,” she said. “I’m here with my old man, who is busy watching some sports thing in the bar. He doesn’t believe in any of this stuff, and he wasn’t supposed to come, but since the bar has more ESPN than we have at home, he insisted. I gather you two are friends?”

Carrie nodded. “Nice to meet you, Lulu. I’m Carrie, that’s Erin. I’m not sure about us being friends, though.”

Lulu shook her head. “I can see that’s not true. Sorry for sticking it to you over by the coffee, but man, that pumpkin. Did you think you’d get away with it?”

“I guess not.”

“Personally, I don’t blame you a bit. He’s a cutie.”

A shiver went through Carrie, not big enough that anyone would notice, but she felt it move straight down her back until it made her cross her legs. This was becoming very real. Very close. Thank god she’d shaved her legs.

As she sipped her now-cooled coffee she tried to do a quick run-through of the coming night, despite having no idea of the actual logistics. His place? Where was his place? Her room? No one too close there, but he’d have to make the call. She supposed she could insist that it be her room. At this point, she doubted the game would be called on account of venue.

She’d brought condoms because she always brought condoms on the off chance. But it had been a while since Armand, and she was feeling surprisingly gun-shy. Normally, she had no qualms about her sexuality, but with Sam, she wanted him to like it. Her. A lot.

“Carrie.”

She blinked at Erin. “What?”

“You’re not in the bedroom yet, so please pay attention to the person sitting across from you.”

“Sorry. Zoned.”

“I guessed. Your squeeze is asking for pumpkins to be brought onstage.”

“I told you, I’m not entering.”

“You have to.” This, from Lulu. “It’s adorable and everyone’ll get a real kick out of it. It’s not as if the whole room doesn’t know.”

“Have I thanked you guys for that yet? No?” She leaned forward. “There’s a reason.”

“Honey,” Lulu said, as if she’d known them for years. “Half the people here were talking about you the minute you checked in. Some said you didn’t believe in ghosts. Personally, that’s fine with me. You can believe in whatever the hell you want. Others said you and Sam got into a little staring contest in line. Sherry said it was like you two were having sex right there in the middle of the lobby.”

“Oh, my god.” Carrie put her head in her hands.

“It’s kind of sweet,” Erin said. “No reason for you to be embarrassed. You’re both consenting adults and you’re not breaking any rules. They’re all just jealous. I know because I am, too. Do yourself a favor. Own it. If someone doesn’t like it, too bad.”

Carrie lifted her head just enough to stare at Erin. “Own it? Who the hell are you talking to?”

“The new you. The one who’s going to be brave and daring and fierce even when I’m in New York. The one who’s not going to lock herself in the loft and only come out when there’s no more milk.”

Carrie’s stomach swooped again, this time unpleasantly with the reminder that soon her life was going to change so dramatically. “I shouldn’t be hooking up. I should be spending time with you.”

Erin gave her a lopsided grin. “I love you, but not that much.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. But please, I beg of you, do this. He seems like a really nice guy. He’s not about to do something hinky. He’s the owner, he’s got staff, guests. If it’s terrible, so what? You both get a little itchy when you see each other and then you move on. It’s the perfect time and place to take a chance, trust me.”

“And how do you know that?”

Erin tapped her temple with her index finger. “Psychic.”