you know about Marcia Williams.”
Carrie had no clue. “Absolutely.”
Erin folded her arms over her chest. “As often as you lie, you really should be better at it.”
“All right. Who’s Marcia Williams?”
“Only one of the most famous mediums in the world.”
“Oooh,” Carrie said, trying to sound as excited as Erin had about the Kahlúa.
“I bought you a reading.”
“Erin. You don’t have money to throw away like that, especially since you’re moving.”
Her friend looked wounded. “Really? You’ve decided to go there on the first night?”
People were looking. But that wasn’t why Carrie moved closer to Erin. “I’m sorry. I meant thank you.”
The anger disappeared in a blink of Erin’s blue eyes. “No fair. I have every reason to be mad.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for that. And ample opportunities, I’m sure. So let’s get drunk and fat and then meet and greet the hell out of this crew.”
THE BUYERS WERE ON their way from Denver, and instead of pacing the lobby until he drove himself crazy, Sam headed for the banquet room, which was packed.
He walked through the crowd, checking that the floor was clean, that the glasses and dishes were being bussed, that everyone seemed happy. He didn’t worry about the bartenders. Both of them normally worked in the pub, and they knew what they were doing. Gene had worked here over ten years, and he’d met his wife, Felicity, when she’d come on board. They’d been married in the garden right here on the property. Sam had been filming in Atlanta that summer. His father had signed their gift from the both of them.
Carrie was in Felicity’s line. She wore slim black jeans and a snug green sweater, and when she turned his way, he felt as if he’d been hit with an electric shock. Just a buzz, diffused through his chest and lower, a reminder of what his trip to the forest had told him. This was a woman he wanted to know better. Intimately. He headed her way.
It was clear the moment she noticed him, and he let out a held breath at her smile. There was nothing forced about it, nothing faked. He’d caught her by surprise and her first instinct was to welcome him. Excellent.
“Hey, you have any pull around here?” she asked. “We’ve been in line for hours.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Hours, huh?”
“At least three. Maybe five. I’m too parched to be sure.” Carrie had lost the grin, and replaced it with complete sincerity. It was Erin, and the fact that the ballroom had only been open for about twenty minutes, that gave her away.
“She’s like this all the time, Sam. It’s awful. You’ll see.”
“I think I can handle it.”
Carrie grinned prettily. “You can get us our drinks?”
“Sure thing. As soon as we reach the bar.”
“Oh, you’re no fun.”
“It’s only the first night,” he said. “I can’t go playing favorites. Yet.”
“Oooh.” Erin bumped Carrie’s shoulder with her own. “You’d better not hog all the good ghosts, missy.”
Carrie laughed, but when her gaze caught his, she stopped as if she’d just realized whom she was joking with. A stranger. An innkeeper in a haunted hotel. One who did peculiar things to her mind and her body.
“This looks fantastic,” Erin said, filling in what had just begun to feel like an awkward pause. “I can’t wait to get my hands on some of that dessert. Who is this chef? Some star of the Food Network?”
“She’s been on Iron Chef before. And won.”
Erin stepped out of line into his personal space and shoved his chest. Kind of hard. He didn’t mind exactly, although he was surprised. “You are kidding me.” Her voice had gotten half an octave lower, and he took another step back.
“Nope. Not kidding.”
“I have to meet her. Can I meet her? I love Iron Chef. Almost as much as Ghost Hunters. More than Ghostly Encounters. About the same as Hauntings. But I love Hauntings so much.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond to these earnest declarations until he looked behind Erin to find Carrie laughing. Hard. Trying to hold it in, and failing miserably. Sam grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you. Seriously,” Erin said, and she did sound incredibly serious. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I think you two are about to lose your place in line.”
“She’s an architect,” Carrie said, as she stepped backward to guard their space. “Honest. A really good one. She makes buildings in between watching TV shows.”
“I see. And you’re an architect, as well?”
“Nope. Graphic artist. I don’t watch enough television to play in the big leagues.”
Erin frowned. “Mock all you want. I’m very well-rounded.”
Sam wished he was here on vacation. Free to hang out with these two just for the laughs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed and damn, he was attracted to Carrie. He couldn’t stop looking at her. That smile was really something. His cell rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Yeah? “
“Where the hell are you? They’re almost here.”
Hit with a hard dose of “what was I thinking?” Sam flipped the phone shut. “Gotta go.” Then he almost ran out of the ballroom, and did run down the hall to the lobby, cursing under his breath the whole way.
He skidded to a halt on the hardwood floor just before it became the lobby. Putting on his best businessman smile, he walked his most confident walk to the registration desk where Ben Heartly and Kunio Mori were sharing a laugh. As he neared the two men, he thought their good humor looked genuine, that the trip in from the airport had been a good one.
None of this was emotional. It was strictly business for them, just as it was for Sam. Buying the place would work for one or both of them, and it all boiled down to the bottom line. Sam had done extensive research into their companies, and these two men. They had the resources, now all Sam had to do was let the Crider Inn show itself off.
“Gentlemen,” he said, putting out his hand. “How was your ride in?”
“Excellent,” Heartly said along with his firm shake. “Gorgeous sunset and good company. Although I’d like to take a look around tomorrow to see if there’s space for a landing field.”
“I’ll see to it.”
He turned to Mr. Mori.
“I
