true. I’ve worked there before. Not for a while, though.”
“Doing what?”
“Documentary films. So, you live in one of those big high-rise buildings?”
“Converted bread factory. It’s a loft with a great view of the flower market.”
“Sounds great.”
“You live here, I suppose.”
His lips came together and a shadow crossed his eyes. “Not really. I inherited the place after my father died.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
He put her scanner, which he wouldn’t be able to tell was a scanner, on the desk, as well. “It’s fine. I grew up here. This is home.”
“It’s cozy. Pretty.”
“Yeah, it is.” There was more to unload from the cart, but that was done quickly, and then he put his hands in his pockets and rolled up on the balls of his feet for a second. His gaze wandered the room as if he weren’t intimately familiar with the décor.
Her frown came back as she wondered why. The situation was new to her. Always before, she’d met her vacation flings at bars or in the pool, and they had all been fellow travelers. Not that there had been all that many. And she’d never had this kind of immediate full-body flush minutes after meeting. Maybe his lingering had nothing to do with sex at all. He probably wanted to give her some tips about the—
Tips. Dammit. She grabbed her purse and pulled out her wallet. Without a second thought, she whipped out a ten even though it was overkill. “Thank you,” she said, holding the bill out to him.
He looked at the money, his eyes widened, then he looked at her. “Um. No, you don’t have to—”
“I want to. Really.”
He didn’t actually blush, but his expression let her know that trying to tip him was a stupid, stupid move. Par for the course, today. Now she didn’t know whether to put the money away, or what. She decided to drop it on the bedside table. Casually. As if she’d meant to do that all along.
Of course, it didn’t work. Yet, he still didn’t leave. Okay, she’d made a mess of everything so far, why not go for the whole enchilada and find out if he, in fact, had any interest in her at all? “Do I remind you of someone you know? “
His head jerked up from looking at the ten-dollar bill. “Excuse me?”
“Downstairs. When I was in line. You looked as though you thought I was someone else.”
“No, I didn’t,” he said, quickly.
Carrie blinked. She responded with a drawn-out, “Okay.”
He opened his mouth, showing his very nice white teeth, then closed it again. After a sigh, he said, “I think we may have met before but I can’t remember where. It’s kind of driving me crazy.” He took a step closer. “I don’t suppose you recognize me.”
“Nope. Not even a little bit.”
“Ah. Well. Okay, then.” He backed up toward the door. “Maybe I do think you look like someone else.” He stopped, took a step toward her. “Do you ever go to San Diego?”
“I’ve been there.”
“Huh.”
It didn’t seem as if he was going to say any more about that. Instead, he focused on the ten dollars again.
“You used to live in San Diego?”
He shook his head. “No. New York. Still do.”
She wasn’t sure what was going on here. It probably should have been a lot more uncomfortable than it was, but then, she was used to weird conversations with highly intelligent but socially awkward geeks. “Documentary filmmaker?”
“Yeah.”
“Anything I’ve seen?”
“Doubt it. Unless you go to small film festivals. I’ve done four major pieces, and a bunch of shorts. Mostly to do with human-rights activism.”
“Wow, good cause.”
“Yeah.”
“No ghosts?”
He studied her face. “No.”
“Ah.”
He took his hands out of his pockets, then rested one on her suitcase. It was a nice hand, strong, with long fingers and short, neat nails. A moment went by and then he straightened abruptly as if goosed. “You probably want to unpack, and I should let you do that.”
“Uh,” she said elegantly, watching him back out of the room. He really did know the space well.
“You should try the restaurant. And the pastries. Seriously.” He found the doorknob behind him. “Anyway, have a great stay.”
“Thank you.”
He paused. Again.
As weird as this had become, and she was thinking eleven on a scale of one to ten, she didn’t mind. She rather liked it. Him. It. She smiled.
He smiled back. That same great smile. Then he opened the door and slipped into the hallway. She heard the lock click and she sat down on the bed, still certain of nothing, but hopeful. Very hopeful.
3
SAM CLOSED HIS EYES as he shut the door behind him. He supposed he could have behaved more like an idiot with Carrie, but not without rehearsals. He’d recognized people in the past and not recalled the context, but never before had the situation turned him into a complete moron.
With a blink to clear his vision, he made the executive decision to forget everything that had happened in room 204. There was a hotel to run, a hotel to sell, and he had no idea what 204 had even been about, so he wouldn’t think about it.
None of the guests were in the hallway at the moment, so he took the time to check that the carpet had been properly vacuumed and the pictures dusted. The wall sconces weren’t lit, so he couldn’t check for bulbs that needed changing, but then he should know by now that even if there were things about the hotel that needed fixing or refining, the housekeeping staff knew how to do their jobs.
There were few complaints with any of the staff. The lifers had been with the hotel for years, had considered themselves family when his dad had been in charge. The part-timers were paid relatively well and loved the benefits, such as the free ski passes, which meant that they were mostly reliable, and any troublemakers were weeded out quickly.
He skipped the elevator in favor of the stairs, and by the second step down, he was thinking once again about Carrie. He liked her looks, her size, the way she talked. Although he felt sure she wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about ghost hunting as she’d like him to believe. That seemed odd considering
