see pictures of them?”
“No.”
“Dear, sweet, oblivious Erin. The reason none of the men are talking in this restaurant isn’t because the food is fantastic. It’s because they’re all too busy trying to come up with witty, obscure opening lines with which to dazzle you.”
Erin looked around the room with disbelief.
Carrie noted with smug satisfaction that a good half of the men quickly diverted their attention to either their plates, the unremarkable ceiling or simply closed their eyes, presumably under the impression that if they couldn’t see, they became invisible.
“No one’s even looking in our direction.”
“God, you’re naive. New York is gonna eat you alive. Trust me. I bet there are at least ten ghost-related pickup lines thrown your way tonight.”
“You’re nuts. If anyone’s looking it’s probably at you.”
“Want to bet?”
Her friend’s cheeks became pink. “No. But even if you’re right, it won’t last. The ghosts hold far more interest than I ever could.”
“I repeat. Oblivious.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Carrie didn’t understand, even when she followed Erin’s gaze to the east side of the restaurant. “What?”
“Sam Crider? Staring at you like you’re his long-lost soul mate?”
She saw him, but he wasn’t looking at her at all. He was checking out an empty table before he straightened the place setting. A perfectly reasonable, if disappointing, thing for the proprietor to do. “You’re lying because I’m right. But it won’t work. Every single guy in this room wants you. Probably the married guys, too. And who knows, maybe someone will, you know, spark.”
“That would be nice.” Erin picked up the dessert menu. “I wouldn’t mind, you know, getting some hot ghost-hunter booooty. Get it? Booooty?”
Carrie shook her head. “So, so sad.”
“Come on. That was funny. Talk about someone needing to get laid. But then, you’ve already got Sam there locked and loaded.”
“I don’t know. It was, um, kind of weird in my room.”
“Oh?”
“Not sexy weird. Just, I don’t know if I’m reading him right. And he’s the owner. Owners don’t shack up with guests.”
Erin laughed. “Now who’s being naive? Why bother to own a hotel if you can’t sleep with guests? I’m serious, my poor celibate friend, your dry spell is about to be broken.”
“Fine. I believe you.”
“You don’t, but you should. I’m having the hazelnut torte.”
Carrie didn’t blink at the non sequitur. “I’m having the pumpkin soufflé. It’s only proper.”
“Speaking of, tomorrow night is the pumpkin-carving thingee. You’re going to win.”
“I’m not going to enter.”
“But you should,” a male voice from just behind her interjected, making Carrie jump.
It was Sam. For reasons she couldn’t explain, he had gotten even hotter in the three hours since they’d last spoken. It had to be his clothes. Instead of mountain-man flannel, he now wore a silky gray retro-looking long-sleeved shirt that made his hazel eyes seem blue. No tie. He’d stuck with his worn jeans, a decision she could only applaud.
“Sorry,” he said, “I was just coming over to make sure you had everything you need, then I overheard pumpkins and, well …”
“That’s okay,” Erin said. “I hope you can convince her. She’s really creative and talented, and I’ve seen her carve some great pumpkins.”
“It’s a good prize, you know. A massage in your room.”
Carrie wasn’t at all sure how to respond. Once again she knew she was blushing, even though she still wasn’t sure if he was flirting or not. As a good host, it made sense for him to wander from table to table. Hearing a conversation about a hotel activity made things easy for him, and she could appreciate that, as well. He’d have to be clever and quick to constantly chat it up with complete strangers. It wasn’t about her at all. Wait. “An in-room massage for free? Where do I sign up?”
“All you have do to is show up,” Erin said, before smiling up at Sam. “I must tell you this was one of the best meals I’ve ever had. In my whole life. How is your restaurant not on the cover of every food magazine in the world?”
“We have a special guest chef this week. Not that our regular chef isn’t great, but Jody’s amazing. We’re lucky to have her.”
“Trying to impress the ghost hunters?” Carrie asked.
Sam looked down before he met her gaze. “Just lucky. She’s an old friend. I’ll give you a word of advice. Don’t get too full. We’re serving dessert in the conference room, and take it from me, these are not ordinary desserts.”
“Good to know.”
Sam smiled at her and after a few seconds he got that look again. The one that seemed just a bit too focused. It made Carrie turn away as she fought her very physical reaction. He cleared his throat, then said, “Well, have a good night, ladies. If there’s anything you need, just give me a call.”
“Thank you.” Erin closed her menu and put it aside. “It’s safe,” she whispered a minute later. “He’s gone.”
Carrie looked up. “So, no pumpkin soufflé. At least not tonight.”
“The man is totally into you.”
“Stop it.”
“Come on, you want him so badly. You’re all blushing and touching your hair. I’m trying to think if I’ve ever seen you like this. I was there when you met Armand, and honey, you were not flirty and girlie. Not even a little.”
“He’s not Armand.”
“Thank god. But you’re not exactly you, either. But that’s okay. Because—”
“What?”
Erin signaled the waitress again.
“Erin? What are you planning?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Erin coughed behind her hand. “Could you have said that a little louder? I’m not planning anything. I don’t need to. You’re going to be with him, my stubborn friend. Without me lifting a finger.”
Carrie ignored the prediction, ignored everything but the fact that Sam, the dutiful
