A Spirited Love (A Five Senses Short Book 2) Read online

  A Spirited Love

  A Five Senses Short

  Gemma Brocato

  Copyright: A Spirited Love

  Copyright © Gemma Brocato, 2015

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without prior written permission of the publisher

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Brocato, Gemma

  A Spirited Love / Gemma Brocato

  1. Contemporary Romance — Fiction. 2. Holiday—Fiction. 3. Romance—Fiction. 4. Romance—Ghost Story

  Table of Contents

  Copyright: A Spirited Love

  Dedication

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Keep Reading

  Keep Reading

  Also by Gemma Brocato

  About The Author

  Newsletter Sign Up

  Hearts In Harmony

  Exposed To Passion

  Bed Of Roses

  A Winter Wedding

  Mission: Mistletoe

  Dedication

  For Amy

  Acknowledgements

  Without help from a lot of quarters, this book might never have happened. My family: my publicity-shy husband, whom I affectionately call Mr. Gemma and my two children, Erin and Andrew. You support me and cheer me on and remind me of the good that happens

  when you share a great love.

  My editor, Corinne DeMaagd, who spotted all the problems in the manuscript and helped refine my words to achieve this work.

  Special thanks to Linda Ceschin, Mary Kay Thompson, and Andrea Mansue. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your turning your eagle eyes on this manuscript.

  The KickAss Chicks and my Sassy sisters, you are all strong inspiring authors and I want to be just like you when I grow up.

  Blurb

  Hearts entwined, their love will conquer history.

  Jem Kerrigan appears to have it all. Her husband, Jack, loves her to distraction. She owns a thriving café in Granite Pointe, and she’s considering expanding her business. The only thing not falling nicely into place, the thing she wants most, is a baby bump.

  Hoping to distract Jem from their inability to conceive, Jack buys Sea View House and encourages her to pursue her dream of opening a banquet space. Jem is skeptical when she sees the dilapidated wreck atop a bluff. Deserted for a decade, rumors are rampant about ghosts and ill-fated love stories. While there is something haunting about the hundred-year-old mansion, the woven hearts enchants Jem.

  After discovering the tragic story of the original owners, Jem begins to understand the importance of the carvings of entwined hearts scattered throughout the house. The motif quickly becomes a symbol of Jem’s love for Jack. The promise of their future together is spirited, even if Jem’s arms remain empty.

  Chapter 1

  When Jem had driven up the tree-lined lane, she found Jack relaxed against the hood of his truck, one foot on the bumper, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the dilapidated mansion that crowned the top of the bluff. As she emerged from her car, the sound of waves breaking against the rocks in the inlet below drew her attention. It was a peaceful sound despite the violent force of the water.

  The unmistakable tang of salt perfumed the air as Jem approached him. A light breeze blew in from the ocean, caressing skin bared by her tank top and jeans shorts. After a distracted peck on her husband’s cheek, she leaned against the truck’s metal grill and joined him in studying the run-down manor.

  “What are we looking at?” she asked after a moment of silence.

  Jack slipped one arm around her shoulders and propped his other elbow on the vehicle. His fingers tickled as he swept them over her upper arm. “We’re looking at the future, Jem. Our future.”

  Dimples that had won her heart peeked out as he turned his smile on her.

  Casting a skeptical eye over the structure, Jem was grateful Jack had agreed to meet her after Caro’s Taste closed for the day. One of them was going to need a decent paying job. Because, if this house were an inkling of what awaited, the future didn’t look too prosperous.

  Word choice was going to be very important here. Jack had that look on his face, the intent, studious look that had first convinced her to fall in to bed with him, and then later to marry him.

  She weighed her words carefully before she responded. “Is this what I agreed to when the justice of the peace at the Chapel of Love mentioned ‘For better or for worse’? You know I love you, Jack, but can you let me in on your thoughts? If you see the future here, I’m all in, but I’d kind of like to know what this entails.”

  He squeezed her close until she felt the rumbling in his chest as he chuckled. He turned, rested his hip against the truck, and clasped his hands around her back. He studied her with his intense blue eyes before replying. “This is all part of my master plan, sugar.”

  Tapping her finger against his temple, she let a grin sneak out. “Is that the plan you keep here in your head instead of on paper? Remember, I’m a great chef, but I suck at reading minds. Use your words, Jack. Tell me what you’re thinking.” She trailed her fingers over the dark stubble on his chin, enjoying the rasping sound.

  His answering smile warmed his blue eyes and creased the cleft deeper into his cheek. “We’ve talked about how we need more room at the house for expanding our family. This solves our problem.”

  Jem struggled to keep sadness and frustration from her face. They’d been trying to make a baby since well before their Valentine’s Day wedding in Las Vegas. And while she enjoyed the process, she hated the journey. Jack had no way to know she’d gotten her period this morning. She’d been two days late this month, and hope had clawed at her heart. But she’d woken feeling crampy and achy. Duty called, and she was out the door to open the café before he got up. Bad enough her bubble had been burst with the spotting she’d discovered after lunch. She didn’t want to bring him down, too. The regular monthly dashing of hope hurt Jack as much as it did her.

  Turning her head, she rested her cheek on Jack’s chest and stared at what he’d called their future. Yeah, that looked about right—dried up, falling apart, and about as far from fertile as a structure could get.

  Blinking back tears, she focused on keeping her breathing steady and her voice upbeat. “Um, Jack? How does this wreck solve our space issues? We don’t need more room. At least not yet.”

  He tangled his hand in her hair, wrapping the corkscrew curls around his finger. With a small tug on the strand, he pulled her gaze to his face. “You’re right. All we need is one more room for a nursery.” God, it was like a knife to the chest. He rubbed his thumb along her jaw. “I’m thinking about buying this and converting it to a new office for Kerrigan Construction. That will leave my home office for a baby’s room.”

  She turned away from the hope in his eyes, avoiding the moment she had to tell him there was no rush. “Jack, that’s way more space than you need for an office.”

  The building had to be at least fifteen thousand square feet. Jem had read about the estate when she’d first moved to Granite Pointe two years ago. The house had been built over one hundred years ago by a prosperous sea
captain. His wife had lived alone most of the time while her husband sailed with his small fleet of ships.

  As a way of filling the endless days of the captain’s absences, she’d developed the grounds into a park-like setting. Towering maple and white oak trees surrounded the property to the north, leaves trembling in the tangy breeze from the ocean. Wrought iron benches with peeling paint encircled the trunks.

  The house itself was three run-down stories of truly faded glory. Complete with a widow’s walk. Paint had been peeling for years, and the building was gray and weathered. But it had survived on the bluff overlooking the Atlantic, even through the hurricanes of ’38 and ’55.

  What had once been superbly groomed paths leading to the benches were now ruts lined with cracked flagstones and overgrown with weeds. But if she squinted, she could see the remnants of manicured and well-cared-for gardens that had drawn visitors from all over the area. Invitations to high tea had been coveted, especially when the captain was in residence.

  Gossip in town was that the property, Sea View House, known in town as the Sea View, was haunted. Jem was certain the rumors lasted because the house had been vacant and boarded up for at least ten years. The previous owners had vacated the house in the middle of the night without a word to anyone. Abandoned the place without a backward glance.

  “Hear me out, sugar.” Jack slipped his arms from around her. Grabbing her hand, he led her up the weedy, crushed-shell drive to the sweeping front steps. In front of them, an imposing set of double doors with plywood in place of the glass created an unwelcoming barrier. He gestured to the right side at another entrance she hadn’t noticed. “I’m only thinking of using the south side of the building for an office. It’s already set up as a secondary quarters, probably for overseas visitors whenever the man of the house was home. There’s land over there where I can add a building for storage.”

  “Jack, there’s nothing wrong with your office being in our home.” Jem tried to reason with him. This building, these grounds, were too far out of town. She liked having him work at home.

  “I’d rather convert my current office space into a nursery before we need it.”

  “There’s no rush on that, Jack. We don’t even have a baby yet.” She couldn’t help the hitch in her voice any more than she could stop the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. Seeing the room set up as a nursery each time she walked past the door would be a cruel reminder she might never have a baby. To never have a sweet-faced child fill a crib there slashed at her heart. She’d rather leave it an office. “I’ll probably never be pregnant. My period started today.”

  Disappointment shadowed his face, his lips pressed together. He pulled her into his embrace and rested his chin on the crown of her head. The sound of his heart beating steadily under her cheek reminded her of the day they’d met when they’d been trapped in a tiny, closet-like pantry in the café. Her claustrophobia had reared its ugly head, and she was in the midst of a total meltdown when Jack had distracted her with a sizzling kiss. He’d held her close to his chest, letting his heartbeat soothe away her phobia, just like now.

  Stroking his hands up her spine, then back down, he calmed the emotions raging within her. “Aw, sugar. I’m so sorry. I know you didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

  The sigh she’d tried to hold back came out as a small sob, and she instantly hated herself for it. “I lose a little bit of my ability to believe it will ever happen with each month that passes.”

  He grasped her shoulders and eased back to look at her, his gaze warm and encouraging. “It will happen, sugar. We’ll have a baby, and she’ll be gorgeous with curly, honey-colored hair and big brown eyes, just like her momma. Hold on to that belief, Jem.”

  Summoning up a smile she barely felt, she said, “As long as she, or he, has her daddy’s dimples, I’ll be happy.”

  “Chances are good she will.” He lifted her chin with his fingers and slanted his mouth against hers, his lips tender and sweet. “It will happen for us.”

  “I’m trying to be patient. But how long can we face this roller coaster?” Aiming for a light tone, she failed when the words came out with an unmistakable bitter edge. She pushed out of his arms and trained her gaze on the front doors. “Let’s talk about your plans for Sea View House.”

  Jack’s lips turned down, matching his brow, but he seemed to change his mind about whatever he might have been about to say. He jammed one hand into the pocket of his jeans and reached for her hand. He laced his fingers with hers and tugged her toward the stairs. “Watch your step. Some of the boards will have to be replaced.”

  A loud cracking sound beneath the sole of her tennis shoe sent a shiver up her spine. Fortunately, the board held under her weight, and she quick-stepped up to the next one. The entire porch had semi-rotted boards, many with flaking paint, others with exposed bare wood.

  They paused beside the double doors. “Only some of the boards?” she teased.

  “Maybe a few more. Come on, Jem. We’re on a fact-finding mission here.” Jack turned his grin on her as he drew an old-school skeleton key from his pocket. He held it up for her inspection. He tipped the ornately fashioned end toward the doors. The scrolling bits of metal formed into entwined hearts. “I only ask that you keep an open mind. I think you’ll love what’s behind door number one.”

  Jem shrugged, but held her tongue as Jack inserted the key into the slot on the tarnished brass plate on the door. Etched hearts decorated the bottom of the plate, and Jem was instantly charmed. Jack wiggled it around, twisting it one way, then the other, until the distinctive rattle of tumblers turning filled the quiet air around them.

  The smile on his face as he turned the crystal doorknob was anticipatory. It quickly faded when the door didn’t budge. “Hmm, it’s stuck. It must be swollen from the rain a couple of days ago.” He dropped her hand, rested his shoulder against the weathered planks, and shoved. Nothing. After leaning back, he lunged forward again, ramming the door with his full weight. Still no movement. Taking a small step back, he rubbed his shoulder with a grimace.

  “Jack, don’t hurt yourself.” She almost laughed when he rolled his eyes at her. As if she was preaching to the choir. “Hey, maybe you locked the door instead of unlocked it. It’s old, so it might be backward. Try the key again.”

  “Maybe.” Turning the key a second time, he reached for the handle. “Damn, that’s not it.”

  Jack walked to one of the tall narrow windows on either side of the door. Cupping his hands on the glass, he peered through the dusty glass pane.

  Jem scooted closer to the door and bent to examine the lock. The dull brass of the key winked in the weak sunlight that filtered through the leaves of the pin oak tree shading the porch. When her fingers curled around the filigreed end, she was surprised the metal had retained heat from Jack’s pocket. She twisted it back to the right with a satisfying click. With a quick glance to her left, she caught Jack’s eye as she grasped the knob and turned. This time, the door creaked inward toward the gloom of the entry hall.

  “How the hell did you do that?” Jack demanded, eyes wide.

  Jem shrugged as she turned her attention to the inside of the house. “I have no idea. I think we’re going to need a flashlight. It’s pretty dark in there.”

  “Stay put. I’ll go grab a couple from the truck.” He continued to rub his shoulder as he made his way back down the steps. Her back to the entry, Jem rocked from one leg to the other. Jack’s upper body disappeared over the bed of his truck. The lid of his toolbox lifted, and then seconds later, he slammed the top closed and hustled back to her side.

  The mag light was heavy in her hand as she rotated the end to ignite the powerful beam.

  Jack already had his light on and had passed through the opened door. He swung the bright light from side-to-side, revealing a murky cloud of dust.

  The hair on the back of Jem’s neck stood at attention, and her heart thudded a bit heavier in her chest as she stepped over the threshold. Re
aching out, she grasped a belt loop on Jack’s jeans, hoping to ground herself. The place gave her a weird vibe, not scary or unwelcoming...more like a surreal homecoming. She snuggled close to his back, and the warmth of his body settled her.

  Jack directed his light to the left, the blue-white ray sweeping over a door. Taking her hand from his waistband, he gave her an encouraging smile as he wove their fingers together. He pulled her across the space to a closed door on the left. Their footsteps bounced off the high, stamped-tin ceilings, reverberating back to them in a ghostly echo.

  The door opened with a squeal when he pushed it, but more light flooded into the dim hall. With the extra illumination, Jem noted the rounded walls of the entry. A staircase swept up one side of the semi-circular area. Dingy paper covered the walls. Every few feet there were darker spaces where pictures must have hung. Even though the balustrade of the staircase was dusty, the ornate details carved into the wooden slats were visible.

  “Jack, look. More hearts.” Wonder and delight filled her voice as she broke the heavy silence in the entry.

  He squeezed her fingers and shot her a funny grin. “You noticed that, too? I wonder if it continues throughout the house.”

  “Only one way to find out.” Jem gestured toward the door Jack had opened on the left side.

  They moved as one into the parlor. The room was stripped bare of all furnishings. Scarred hardwood formed a herringbone pattern on the floor. Tattered, yellowed lace curtains hung over the narrow floor-to-ceiling windows. Large cabbage rose wallpaper peeled off the walls in wide swaths. Soot stained the bricks and mantle of an oversize fireplace that held a prime spot in the middle of one wall. French doors, lacking glass in many of the sections, stood closed on either side of the hearth. Through the broken portals, Jem noted an airy screened area.