Wine & Roses Page 6

  As he emerged in the salon, Jason’s stomach churned sourly, due only in part to the jerking motion of the vessel as it pulled away from the dock.

  He spotted Abby standing by a table displaying her books. She looked fresh and lovely in a casual peach peasant dress, her hair tied back loosely at her nape. Holding a cocktail, she was talking to two people, looking relaxed as she smiled and nodded.

  Jason’s thoughts turned at once to Marguerite’s last remark—her theory that Abby was falling in love with him. Could she be right? It was just what he’d wanted to avoid, despite his actions to the contrary. Although the notion alarmed him, at the same time it elicited a peculiar warm glow in his chest, bringing an unbidden smile to his lips.

  As the boat headed steadily along the lakefront, he kept his gaze away from the scenery moving past the windows, instead fastening his attention on Abby as he approached her. When she saw him, her expression first registered surprise, turning to relief and pleasure at his presence. But within a heartbeat, the open gladness in her face wilted, replaced by a more guarded air.

  “I didn’t think you were coming.”

  “I managed to move some things around and free myself up,” Jason explained, taken aback by her reaction. His refusal of her invitation must have hurt her more than he’d realized. “I read your book this week. I enjoyed it very much.”

  “I guess you were able to find quite a lot of free time,” Abby remarked dryly.

  “Not really, I just couldn’t put it down.” Indeed, he had read late into the night, finishing the thick volume in four days. Though he wasn’t generally a fan of murder mysteries, he found her writing rich and evocative, and the characters well rounded. Awed by her talent, he was curious to know where her ideas came from, how she formed those ideas into words, and how she formulated the twists and turns of the engrossing story. He couldn’t wait to talk to her about it.

  Abby’s lips curved upward at the edges, her expression easing. “That’s the best compliment I could hope for.”

  “Is this Jason?” someone asked, sidling up next to Abby. Jason realized at one that it was the heavyset brunette he’d overheard talking to Marguerite.

  “It is,” Abby said brightly. “Jason, I’d like you to meet Sophia, my editor.”

  Sophia beamed, her eyes crinkling with delight. “I knew it. You look just like she described. Pleased to meet you, Jason.” She thrust out her hand, shaking his briskly. Obviously she hadn’t taken notice of him by the bar.

  “Likewise.” He caught a flicker of embarrassment in Abby’s face at the revelation that she’d been describing his appearance to her friends.

  “You’re kidding me, Jason’s here?” Marguerite intoned, appearing on Abby’s other side. “You must have hopped on at the last minute. I’m Marguerite Dubois. We met a couple of years ago.”

  “I remember.” He felt his expression stiffen, though her smile held no hint of the suspicion of him that she’d expressed to Sophia only minutes before.

  “So, have you read the book?” Marguerite asked him. “It’s quite the page-turner, isn’t it?”

  “It’s wonderful. I can’t wait to read the others.”

  “They’re all good. Did Abby tell you they’re making a TV movie from Murder Down the Lane?”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  Abby’s shoulders lifted. “I just found out a few days ago.”

  “Congratulations,” Jason said, realizing there was a lot he didn’t know about Abby. Here with her friends, in her element, he felt very much like the newcomer. He’d only begun to scratch the surface of her life story, and at once he felt eager to acquaint himself with every facet of her soul and heart.

  Suddenly the boat slowed and stuttered as it made a turn, and Jason felt his stomach lurch.

  “Excuse me,” he said briskly, hurrying to push his way through the doors leading out to the deck, where the cool air on his face soothed his stomach a little. Cursing under his breath, he draped himself over the rail and stared down at the dark water churning below, waiting for the queasiness to pass.

  Behind him, he heard the click-clack of high-heeled shoes on the wooden deck, then felt a hand slide over his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

  “Are you all right?” Abby asked.

  “I’ll survive.” He turned his head to look at her. “Abby, I’m sorry I didn’t accept your invitation when you asked me. I know I let you down.”

  Her soft mouth twitched into a gentle smile, and she leaned against him, her arm drifting across his back. “It’s all right. It’s not like we’re joined at the hip. We’ve only seen each other a few times.”

  “I’d like to see a lot more of you. But I can’t promise I won’t screw up again. In fact, I can guarantee I will. As you said, I’m only human.” He slanted her a contrite smile. “But I will try not to disappoint you.”

  Abby’s grin widened, but she didn’t reply at first. She simply held his gaze, her eyes conveying assent. He felt something then—a connection snapping into place between them—an unspoken understanding that their relationship had turned from casual to something more concrete. Somehow his unease at the idea had dissipated into the warm summer air.

  “You haven’t disappointed me yet,” she said at last, very softly. “You came here, despite the fact that you obviously get seasick very easily.”

  Jason grimaced, straightening as he turned his body to face her. “How green do I look?”

  “Not very.” She hooked her arm through his, tilting her chin toward the door to the salon. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

  * * *

  Abby’s route home took her down the quiet, tree-lined street where The Roses stood. Slowing her car at the stop sign on the opposite side of the road, she glanced up to admire the building, newly painted in pale yellow with deep green shutters. Even in the evening dark it looked impressive, and she smiled to herself, pleased that the results of her labour still stirred a sense of pride.

  It was no great effort to smile tonight. The launch had gone well, and despite Jason’s delicate stomach he’d stayed by her side much of the evening. The telltale glances and touches between them had garnered some attention from her friends and associates, most of whom appeared happy to see her with a new man in her life. Had Jason been feeling better, Abby might have wound up back at his house with him, but she was glad all the same to be headed home. Contented but bone-tired, she looked forward to a full night’s sleep.

  As she pressed the gas pedal to cross the intersection, something caught her eye and she stopped the car abruptly, leaning her forehead against the window to gaze up at the inn’s second floor.A figure stood framed in the window of the darkened room directly above the pub. It looked like a young woman wearing a loose garment, possibly a billowy dress or a nightgown, her long dark hair hanging about her shoulders. There was something strange about the figure that kept Abby rooted to the spot, her car idling in the middle of the empty intersection. She pressed the button to lower the window, hoping to get a better look—but by the time she was able to poke her head out into the clear night air, the woman had vanished.

  For another long moment Abby remained still, staring up at the empty window as she tried to puzzle out what was bothering her about the woman she’d seen. As she slowly came to grasp what is was, her heart began to pound heavily, and immediately she came to doubt her memory of what she’d seen only moments before.

  The sudden blare of a car horn from behind jolted her, spurring her to drive forward. She pulled over by the curb next to the inn, cutting the engine, and sat for a few minutes, contemplating whether to go inside or just drive home and get the sleep she obviously needed.

  Abby, get ahold of herself. It was just a guest looking out the window. Go home to bed and forget about it.

  She grasped the key in the ignition, began to turn it, then dropped her hand. How would she sleep tonight without at least checking into it?

  Tucking the key into her purse, Abby finally stepped out of her
car and headed into the inn. She found the night manager, Oscar, tidying the front desk.

  “Evening, Abby. How was the launch?”

  “Not bad,” she replied uneasily, clutching her purse to her chest as she considered her next move.

  “What brings you by?” The burly Englishman eyed her with curiosity as he continued to shuffle a handful of papers into a neat stack.

  Her heart having resumed its normal pace, Abby began to feel foolish for coming in. But now that she was here, she might as well tell him why. “I saw someone in the window upstairs just now. A woman. It was just … sort of strange.”

  Oscar’s gaze narrowed. “How so?”

  Abby hesitated, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. How could she explain that the woman she saw in the window looked … well … sort of transparent? The woman had been standing between the pane and the closed curtains, but Abby could have sworn that the portion of the curtain that should have been behind the figure, blocked from view, was somehow still visible. But how could it be? Surely it must have been a trick of the light—or a trick of the darkness.

  “I don’t know,” she ended up replying. “Who’s staying in the room directly above?”

  “An older couple,” Oscar said. “But they’ve gone out to the theatre.”

  “This woman looked young to me.”

  Oscar’s thick black brows notched up slightly. “You’re not the first one to see her,” he said casually.

  Abby stared at him. “Surely you’re not suggesting it was the ghost of Rebecca Norris.”

  Oscar leaned across the desk, holding her gaze with a sober look. “Abby, I put no stock in ghost stories before I took this job. But I’ve seen things and heard things here that I can’t explain. The other night, a chair in one of the rooms was rocking all by itself. Back and forth in a steady rhythm, like someone was sitting in it.” He gestured with his hand, emulating the motion. “I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw it.”

  Abby frowned at him; though dubious, she felt the flesh on her arms prickle at his words. “Maybe there was a draft.”

  “There wasn’t. The windows were closed. You may be a skeptic, but you don’t spend as much time here as I do. There’s something off here.”

  Wrapping her arms about herself, Abby blinked at him, considering whether to take him seriously. It was hard not to; she saw no hint of jest in his expression. Besides, he wasn’t the only one who’d reported strange events. Something was going on, supernatural or not. “You’re scared?”

  He smiled grimly. “I’m still here. There’s been nothing frightening, really. Even the guests don’t seem to mind having her around.”

  Abby glanced up at the ceiling, holding her breath a moment, as though expecting to hear the eerie creaking of floorboards or the rattling of chains. But there was no way she was going to find out what was happening at the inn during the night by dropping by on occasion.

  “You’re right, I don’t spend enough time here,” she told Oscar. “I’m going to stay overnight as soon as there’s a room free, and see for myself.”

  Chapter Six

  Through the glass patio doors, Abby stared out at the swimming pool, its unlit depths black as the night enveloping it. She was happy enough to be inside with Jason, cozy in his warmly lit living room with soft music setting a relaxed mood.

  “Dinner was satisfactory?” he asked behind her. Turning to find him holding two glasses of red wine, she accepted one from him.

  “Are you kidding? It was the best beef stroganoff I’ve ever had. You’ve impressed me again, Jason Brinleigh. Not only a wine connoisseur, but also a master chef.”

  His lips curved into a sexy smile that roused her feminine senses. “Out of necessity. Living alone, forced to fend for myself, it wouldn’t do to serve my wines with hot dogs and beans. Though this isn’t actually one of my wines. It’s a Californian Merlot—the most sensual of wines. Pairs perfectly with the chocolate mousse we have for dessert.”

  “Mmm, you spoil me. Keep it up.”

  “Just try to stop me.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Care for a swim?”

  Delighting in the solid warmth of him, Abby settled against his broad chest, resting her forehead against his cheek. His question evoked instant memories of their first evening together: the toe-tingling kiss and the intimate embrace they had shared, and how close they had come to yielding to the firestorm of desire that had ignited so swiftly between them.

  “I don’t think so. It’s a little chilly tonight.”

  “Right.” Jason pressed several slow kisses to her ear that sent a delightful shiver through her. “I’d rather stay inside and keep you warm.”

  “This has been the best weekend I’ve had in a long time. I can’t believe how much we packed in,” Abby remarked, before taking a sip from her glass. The last two days had been almost magical, tempting her to believe it was possible to bring fairy tales into the realm of reality. Yesterday, after a morning of horseback riding, they had shared a long picnic lunch by the lake and then took in a play at the Shaw Festival Theatre. Today had been spent mainly at Jason’s country club, where Abby had enjoyed her first eighteen holes of golf. The weather had been clear and beautiful, reflecting the warm sense of contentment settling in her heart. Spending time with Jason made her feel younger and more vibrant than she had in years, and when they weren’t together he was constantly on her mind. She didn’t want to think about the fact that she had to leave on a book signing tour in a few days’ time, or that shortly thereafter he’d be leaving on an extended business trip to Europe.

  “Me, too.” The backs of Jason’s fingers gently stroked her arm. “But it’s not over yet. For that matter, who says we can’t extend the weekend into Monday?”

  “That reminds me, I’m planning on staying over at the inn tomorrow night.”

  “To check out the ghostly occurrences going on there?”

  “Yes.” Abby hadn’t mentioned the apparition, or whatever it was, that she’d seen in the inn’s upper window. She wasn’t at all sure anymore what she’d actually seen and what she might have merely imagined. “It’s the only way I can think of to get to the bottom of it.”

  “You’re a mystery writer. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Maybe I’ll join you,” Jason offered, his tone playful. “Like you said, Rebecca’s my ancestor. Maybe she’ll reach out to me.”

  Abby smiled at him, gazing up into the rich depths of his dark eyes. “I didn’t think you believed in ghosts.”

  “I’ve yet to make up my mind.” His mouth curled into a mischievous smile.

  “Or maybe your motives aren’t purely related to the ghost stories,” she suggested.

  “You might be right.”

  Laughing softly, Abby set her wine glass on the end table beside them, then slid her arms over his shoulders, turning her body to fit it more snugly against his. “There’s only one room available tomorrow night.”

  One of Jason’s eyebrows quirked upward roguishly. “Is that a problem?”

  “Think of my reputation, Jason. My employees would know you were there; it wouldn’t be professional.” In truth, her reason for keeping him at bay had less to do with the opinion of her staff than the fact that she hadn’t been intimate with him yet, and didn’t plan on spending her first night with him at the inn. Whenever they did make love, it would have to be the perfect time and the perfect place—and she hadn’t quite decided when and where that would be.

  “Then I’ll sleep downstairs in the lounge,” he offered in compromise.

  “I suppose that would be all right.”

  “Now that that’s settled, I’d like to point out that there are no employees here, no prying eyes. It seems we’re perfectly alone.” Jason set down his glass to gather her closer, his warm breath caressing her cheek. Abby tilted her head back, parting her lips to invite his kiss. Obligingly, his mouth descended, joining hers in a slow, luscious kiss of the kind to which she was becoming happily accustomed. Excitement pulsed through
her limbs and she smoothed her hands down the long, toned muscles of his back, taking pleasure in the feel of his masculine physique.

  While his lips glided over hers with mounting fervour, drawing her into a deepening spiral of passion, his hands wandered downward to slide under her blouse. The sensation of his fingers on the bare skin of her back sent a quiver of anticipation through her, blossoming into a deeper heat as they slipped under the waistband of her shorts, curling down to gently knead her bottom.

  “What about dessert?” she asked breathlessly, though the idea of breaking away from his embrace in favour of chocolate mousse was rapidly losing its appeal.

  “It can wait,” Jason muttered, his voice thick with simmering need. “At the moment it’s you I can’t resist.”

  Sinking onto the sofa, he drew Abby down with him, laying her against the cushions. The blatant hunger in his eyes both startled and gratified her. Immediately he set to work freeing her of her clothing. As he unfastened each button on her blouse, his lips followed, gliding down the hollow of her throat to skim her collarbone.

  Abby responded with a soft moan, relenting to the fiery need that rippled through her body. The past two days together had fulfilled her heart’s desire, but in public venues their physical pull toward one another had to be restrained; now that they were alone, free to unleash that yearning, it carried them both to the brink of urgency with lightning speed.

  Lacing her fingers through the waves of his hair, she urged him closer. As the last button came free and her blouse fell open, Jason answered her craving, bending to press hot, sensual kisses to the sensitive flesh of her belly. The luscious heat gathering just below began to smolder, burning more fiercely as his lips drifted upward, arriving above her bra clasp to explore the silky slope of each breast.

  “Come with me to the bedroom,” he muttered between kisses.

  Abby stiffened, a bolt of alarm stabbing through her. “I can’t.”