Spirit [New Crescent 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (5 page)

As Reggie turned to leave, Ernestine said, “Tell Chase he needs to open up and relax a little. Enjoy your lunch. He’s sticking with the peanut butter, but he’s got Belgian chocolates for you this time.”

Reggie called out to the old woman as she and Pru walked away, “You’re a witch, Ernestine Sinclair.” Still walking, she turned and smiled at the old woman. “An absolute witch…the very best kind.”

Ernestine’s laughter was carried on the breeze and out to sea.

With a little time to spare, Reggie swung by her office and signed the contract Pat Somers’s agent had sent over. The terms were generous, and Reggie was excited by the challenge ahead of her. Bennett House would finally fulfill the potential she’d always seen in it. She’d get to the bottom of the strange energy or impulses that echoed throughout the place. If she had to accept help from Chase to do it, then so be it. They were supposed to be friends, there was no reason he couldn’t be of some assistance. He was a permanent fixture in her life. She had to get used to dealing with him and her feelings for him. No time like the present.

Chase was there in the garden waiting for her. At first, he appeared unaware of her presence. Stretched out on the bench, with his long legs crossed at the ankles and his arms resting along the back, he had his face turned up to the sun. Reggie paused to admire the sight. It shocked her to realize that for once, she wasn’t hungry for food. She hungered for him. He was a month’s worth of comfort food to a starving woman. And just for a moment, Reggie feasted.

The sound of his amused voice startled her when, without even opening his eyes, he said, “Are you going to stand there all day, Reggie?”

Embarrassed, she walked toward him and started babbling. “You’re making progress with the gardens, I see. I never realized they were so extensive. The path to the beach is terribly overgrown. I guess the lion’s share of the work will have to be done in the spring, but there’s no time like the present to prepare. Ernestine thinks you need to relax more.” She was distracted by an iron gate that looked perfect in the garden. She smiled. “I never noticed that little gate before. It’s charming. Was that always here or did you find it somewhere else?”

Chase tilted his head and said, “Yes.” When she looked confused, he added, “I found the gate here on the property and restored it myself.”

Reggie sat on the bench beside him. He’d set their lunch on a napkin between them. Of course, Ernestine had been right. He’d brought her Belgian chocolate. She met his smile with her own when he placed the package in front of her.

She breathed deeply and could swear she’d caught his scent much like a female animal does when seeking out her mate. It was a heady experience, and instead of trying to shake it off, she welcomed it, gave herself over to it. Once she’d stopped fighting the temptation, more sensations washed over her. She could feel his heart pound in his chest, and her breath caught as her own heart beat in rhythm with his. When their eyes locked, she could see the desire in his and wondered if he saw the same in hers.

“Will you two kiss already?”

The words were filled with petulance. Reggie snapped her head around to see who spoke to them so sharply.

There was no one there.

“Did you hear that?” Reggie asked Chase.

“Uh huh,” he said, while turning his head and searching for the source of the impatient voice.

Reggie sighed. “Good, because I thought it was just me.”

In unspoken agreement, they sat motionless listening intently. No one was there. They were alone in the garden. Finally, Chase stood up and began to look around. “Is someone there?” He called out with impatience. They were greeted with an odd sort of suspended silence. No birds chirped. No leaves rustled in the breeze. They exchanged a look of confusion.

“Do you feel that?” Reggie asked him.

“If you mean do I feel the bloody air thicken, then, yes, I damn well do. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear we were underwater, but I can still hear you.”

“Me too. I can hear you speak, but everything else sounds muffled.”

Chase continued to look around. In a loud voice, he said, “Okay, you’ve got our attention. Stop playing games.”

There was no response, and Chase shrugged. “You try.”

Taking a deep breath and relishing the subtle rush the altered air induced, she said, “Is there someone here? Please, do something. Give us a sign.” She treated Chase to her best it’s-worth-a-try look.

“Is that the best you can do?” the voice said. Chase nodded to her indicating that he heard the voice, too. “No wonder it took me so long to connect. You lack imagination.”

The voice hit a sore spot. Now Reggie was irritated too. “And just who are you to judge? You don’t even exist. In fact, maybe my imagination is so vivid I made you up. How’s that for creativity?”

She heard the soft chime of feminine laughter as a misty shape appeared. “Do you see that?” Reggie asked under her breath, indicating a spot with a tip of her head and a meaningful look.

Bemused, Chase shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I see nothing unusual. I heard laughter though.”

Reggie pointed to the garden gate Chase had restored. “You mean you don’t see the woman standing by the gate?”

Frowning, Chase said, “No.”

With a long, suffering sigh, Reggie cocked a hip and slapped her hands to her waist. “Well that’s just great! Now I see dead people.”

The otherworldly laughter continued.

Chase said, “That’s good, Reg. Whoever she is, she’s in a good mood.”

Reggie rolled her eyes. “Sure, everything’s fine until the laughter turns maniacal.”

When she looked back at the gate, the misty woman was gone. They could hear the birds sing again and the breeze played with Chase’s cowlick.

Stunned, she sat down on the bench and put a hand to her forehead. She popped a chocolate into her mouth. She bit down and was momentarily distracted. “Mmmm, chocolaty goodness.”

Chase stayed silent and watched her for a full minute. Then he asked, “Was that anything like what you felt in the library?”

Reggie shook her head with feeling. “Nothing whatsoever. This feels exciting…exhilarating even. No, the library made me feel hopeless. It sucked something from me. Here, this thing seemed to fill me up. This was giving, despite the obvious irritation in the voice.” She laughed self-consciously.

“It’s gone now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I feel completely normal. I’m starving, but completely normal.”

He laughed. “Starving is normal for you.”

She nodded and popped another chocolate in her mouth.

By silent agreement, they turned to a safer subject. Neither seemed ready to discuss the specter’s demand that they kiss each other.

“Ernestine was helpful up to a point.” Reggie proceeded to tell him what the sly old lady had to say.

He nodded. “My research backs up her story. Constance McCann just fades from the history books.”

“It was worth a try. I had hoped that fresh eyes might find something I missed. Is there any record of how she died?”

“No real information. The household accounts show the purchase of a coffin at the time. It could have been for her, but it’s hard to tell. If I’ve interpreted it correctly, a female servant went missing that year as well. I’m going to go over some of the journals from that period, see if anyone mentions Constance’s death.”

Reggie nodded as she grabbed half of his sandwich. After taking a bite, chewing and swallowing, she said, “Let me know if you need help with that. I’ve read them all, but that was some time ago and I wasn’t looking for anything specific.”

“How ’bout we meet here at eight o’clock tonight? Some furniture was delivered this morning. We can use it to make ourselves comfortable while we search.”

She looked at him with surprise. “You can get your hands on the journals? The ladies at the Historical Society don’t let that stuff out of their sights. How’d you manage it?”

Leaning over her, he invaded her space and said, “I can be very persuasive.” He kissed the top of her head and moved away. “See you tonight. And remember, don’t go near the library.”

Speechless, she sat back on the bench and watched him go.

* * * *

The main floor of the house was humming with activity, and she smiled when she saw how the place was shaping up. The owner, Pat Somers, had selected some pieces of furniture and wanted them incorporated into the interior designs for the house. Reggie crossed her fingers praying that she’d approve of Ms. Somers’s choices.

It was a great relief when she saw the beautiful living room furniture. She smiled. Wow, even better than what she’d had in mind for this room. She opened her notebook and jotted down her thoughts on the ideal colors and accessories. She chose some paint chips that might work and made note of the numbers. Larger samples would be painted and delivered so she could better determine what worked best in the space. The design work was going so well so far she didn’t want to make a mistake.

When she was done, she moved through the other rooms on the main floor. There was still a lot of work to be done. As she walked, she greeted the workmen she recognized and introduced herself to those she didn’t. As for the library, she avoided it, but she could hear a number of male voices coming from that direction and knew that Chase was as good as his word. He’d arranged to have it cleaned out, and by the tone of the voices coming from that part of the house, it wasn’t a pleasant job.

In the second-floor master bedroom, Reggie was delighted by the huge bed she found there. It, too, was perfect, maybe even better than perfect because she suspected it had been custom made. It was larger than any bed she’d ever seen and inspired all kinds of ideas for the room. With determination she pushed aside all carnal thoughts the bed had conjured.

The sound of men yelling had Reggie rushing to one of the windows to see what had happened. A group of men stood over a prone young man. Chase was pushing aside a fallen ladder in order to get to his man. Discarded tree branches littered the ground. The poor man must have fallen off the ladder he’d been using. She opened the window and called out to Chase.

“Is he all right?”

Shielding his eyes from the sun, he squinted up at her. “Yeah, he says he’s just shaken up. I’m taking him to the hospital, just in case.” He helped the young man to his feet and called up at her. “Eight o’clock tonight. Don’t be late or I’ll start without you. Stay away from the library.” He didn’t wait for a response.

As always, Chase had meant what he’d said. When she arrived at Bennett House at five after eight, she found him sitting on one of the new couches in the living room flipping through one of the many journals laid out beside him. It surprised her to note that he wore glasses.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home, Poindexter.”

Without looking up at her, he ignored her jibe. “I see you’ve finally made it, Crash.”

It was a young Chase who’d given her the nickname when she’d run over the garbage cans at school. “Yeah, traffic was hell.” Her sarcasm finally made him look up at her. He made room for her at the other end of the couch and put a pile of journals between them. The books didn’t provide much of a barrier, but Reggie was glad they were there. The words
sexy nerd
came to mind. Wearing those glasses, Chase looked so appealing that she found it hard not to stare at him. He smelled good, too. Her intense reaction to him made her nervous and that in turn made her hungry. Chase looked up from the journal he was reading and smiled as she fidgeted. She stopped when their eyes met.

“Gillian sent pie,” he said with a knowing smile.

She didn’t bother to deny it or to ask him how he knew. She looked around the room and found no pie. She frowned.

“It’s in the kitchen. I’m brewing coffee.”

“I’ll bring you a cup.” She swept out of the room.

In the kitchen, she cut a modest piece and ate it with her fingers. It was good. Trust Gillian to know just what she’d need. After licking her fingers, she poured two cups of coffee and walked back into the living room. She got down to work.

After two hours, they’d found nothing of significance in the journals. Chase stood up and stretched with feeling. With his arms in the air, his t-shirt rode up and exposed his abdomen to her.

Watching him, Reggie bit down on her cheek.
Calvin Klein called. He wants his underwear model back.
The jury was in, Chase McCann was beautiful. She wondered what it would feel like to run her tongue down all those bumps on his stomach. She fancied a row boat riding the waves on the ocean, up one swell and down the next. Shaking her head, she looked away.

“Do you want more?” he lifted his coffee cup..

She looked at him stunned for a second then found her voice. It was shaky. “No, if I do, I’ll never sleep tonight.”

“Join me then, while I have another.”

He offered her his hand, but she pretended not to notice. She didn’t want to touch him for fear she’d come undone.

She followed him. Together, they paused just outside the library. At a constant temperature that was consistently colder than the outdoors, this part of the house was damp and unwelcoming. It felt wrong, like something unnatural, the antithesis of the phenomenon she’d felt in the garden. Reggie stood rooted to the spot as the foul odor wafted around them. Chase looked down at her and nodded. He could feel it, smell it too. She wasn’t alone. Despite the warmth Chase’s body provided as she stepped closer to him, she felt chilled to the bone. Never had Reggie known such despair. Everything inside her that held optimism or hope was drained from her, and she tasted bile. That was the only warning she got before they were thrown against the library doors with such force they gasped for air. She looked up helplessly at Chase.