A Spirited Love (A Five Senses Short Book 2) Page 2

  Jack dropped her hand and prowled farther into the parlor, walking toward the opposite end of the long, narrow space.

  As she studied the room, Jem could see past the decay and neglect to the grandeur the room must have once possessed. Her vision tunneled on a spot in the center of the room, everything else fading. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned a damask-covered settee with spindly legs in front of a cheery fire. Comfortable wing chairs flanked either side. Delicate side tables rested between the seating. A wispy vision of a woman on the settee wafted into Jem’s imagination. Blond hair styled into a loose bun with a few stray curls surrounding her heart-shaped face. Her brown eyes held sadness. She wore clothing more suited to the twenties than present day. She had folded her hands primly in her lap, resting atop a piece of parchment with hearts drawn on the top. Jem’s pulse sped up as the woman raised her head and smiled, looking directly at where Jem stood. Seeing the woman was like looking in a mirror. Put Jem in a period costume, and it could be her sitting there.

  “Jem!” Jack’s voice broke through Jem’s reverie.

  She blinked hard, and the apparition disappeared. “What? Sorry, I...” Jem didn’t know how to finish her sentence. She’d been so lost in the vision, she hadn’t heard Jack’s question. Giving her head a slight shake, she tuned back into the here and now.

  Jack squatted in the center of the room, brushing his hand over the floor to clear away the layer of built-up grime. Eyebrows raised, he glanced over his shoulder at her. “These floors are original. And they’re gorgeous. I think they might be chestnut.”

  “I didn’t know they used those trees for floors.” Jem spared a last glance at the fireplace and joined Jack in the center of the room. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she bent over his back and peered at the spot he’d cleared. “They’re pretty. Look at that grain.”

  Jack aimed his flashlight at the floor, illuminating the sweeping whorls and pits in the floor. “See that green cast along the grain? It looks like they’re in good shape.”

  Putting his hands on his knees, he pushed upright. He walked to the long windows at the front of the room and dragged the lace curtains aside, letting more light into the room. Jem moved to the next one and did the same. Bits of the lace disintegrated when she pulled the edge. She dusted her hands against her shorts.

  When she turned to look back into the room, she caught sight of the area over the mantle. A smile on her face, she nudged Jack and pointed out what she’d discovered. “Look. There are hearts carved into the wood paneling. Jack, I love this house.”

  Draping his arm over her shoulders, he pulled her close. “Want to hear the rest of my plan?”

  “Waiting with baited breath,” she said.

  “I only need a little space in that side office area for the construction company. I was thinking we could rehab, reclaim, and restore the rest of the area for some kind of event or reception space.” He turned to face her, eyes as wide as his smile. “You and Malin Eckert could join forces, with her doing the planning and you doing the catering. Admit it...you two have been tossing the idea around. This is the right place to do it. Jem, there’s a ballroom on the second floor.”

  Jem let her gaze travel the length of the room, taking in the ornate crown molding and ceiling rosettes. She easily pictured the room decorated for Christmas parties or summer weddings. She’d catered small events for Malin’s event planning business, and they worked well as a team. Malin had first broached the idea of doing business together after she’d rented Taste, Jem’s café, for a business dinner she’d been hired to orchestrate.

  “It would be perfect,” Jem said. A venture like this, restoring this great old home to showcase style, might be just the thing to take her mind off her inability to get pregnant.

  She moved to the French doors on one side of the hearth and stooped to look through one of the broken panes. The area on the other side of the door was a conservatory of sorts. The kind where weekend house party guests might congregate to play cards or read to while away the hours of a lazy afternoon.

  “Any idea what the kitchen looks like?” she asked.

  “Let’s find out.” Jack led the way from the room and down the dim hall toward the back of the house.

  Chapter 2

  Rusted hinges protested with a mighty screech as Jack pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen. He stepped to the side and let her precede him into the room.

  Breath caught in her throat at her first sight. A large island stood front and center, surrounded by loads of storage space. An oversize farmhouse sink dominated one of the counters under a large casement-style window. The view into the yard stole Jem’s breath. Pines marched toward the bluff, framing a massive lawn. A gazebo stood to one side, while a scummy-looking pool sunk into the other. Weeds were rampant, but with the Atlantic Ocean sprawling away to the horizon, who’d notice? The late-afternoon July sun captured the white-capped waves in gleaming perfection.

  “Oh, Jack, this is perfect. But dusty and in need of a thorough cleaning.” She pointed to the refrigerator tucked into one corner with the doors missing. “And maybe some new appliances. Do you think you can save the floor? I love the checkerboard pattern.”

  He scuffed the toe of his work boot over the black and white tiles in question. “Yeah, I bet we can. These are old, but there’s a reclamation shop near Boston Harbor that might be able to source any replacements we need. Or, with any luck, there will be spares in the basement.”

  As entranced as she was about the stately but run-down grace of the building, she shuddered at the idea of the basement. Being underground ranked right at the top of her worst nightmares. “Is there a root cellar?” she asked, barely suppressing the horror in her voice.

  She’d been locked in a root cellar two years previously after she’d been kidnapped. Because a man she’d trusted had wanted her aunt’s ten-year-old accounting ledgers. He’d been implicated in a fraud and blackmail scheme, and the books had been proof of his guilt. Jack had found her in the padlocked subterranean room and freed her, but her ordeal still caused nightmares. Claustrophobia was a bitch.

  Jack pulled her toward him, her back to his chest, as if knowing her fear had arisen. He was careful not to obscure her view out the window, recognizing that her ability to see the horizon eased the sense of restriction she dealt with. He nuzzled her neck and placed calming kisses on the top of her shoulder. “Yeah, sugar, there is, but you’re not going anywhere near it. We’ll fill it in if we have to. At the very least, the door will come off.”

  Wrapping her arms over his where they crossed the front of her body, she relaxed for the first time since he’d mentioned the basement. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Let’s talk numbers, Jack. How much is this house going to set us back? And how much are we talking about for renovations?”

  “We got the house for a song.”

  She slapped her hands on his forearms and peeled them away. Facing him, she demanded, “Whoa! Just a damn minute. We already bought the house? Why didn’t you talk to me about it first?”

  “Kerrigan Construction bought the house. Sam put up half the money. I fronted the other half. And Silas Sims is covering the renovation expenses. A three-way partnership. We’ll be your landlords.”

  Sam might be his brother and business partner, but Jem still thought Jack should have talked to her first. The mention of Sam’s grandfather-in-law drew her up short. “Why is Silas involved?”

  Jack pointed toward the tree line. “Silas has been looking for a small spot in town to live closer to his grandkids and his great-grandbaby. There’s a guesthouse on the property. The only condition on his investment was he gets to live there rent-free.”

  “Well, that makes sense. But, Jack, I wish you’d have spoken to me first before you invested the cash. That’s what married couples do.” Jem was certain Mal would speak to her husband, Gunnar Sims, before she agreed to this new business venture with her.

  Leaning against the counter, Jack pulled her between his sp
read thighs.

  “You’re right, but I wanted it to be a surprise for you. I didn’t touch our personal accounts. The money came from the company’s bank account. We needed the space, I saw the opportunity, and I seized it. I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you.” He swept a strand of hair over her shoulder, holding her gaze as he did. He smoothed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “Sam and I didn’t want to lose the place. We managed to sneak in and grab it before it went to auction.”

  A fact he was clearly very proud of, given the size of his smile. Jem had fallen in love with his decisive, no-nonsense style. It didn’t make sense to bitch about it now. Resting her hands on his biceps, she regarded him. “Timing is everything.”

  “The minute I drove up to the front door, it was like I could see the parties you could host here. With a really aggressive renovation schedule, we could be done with the ground floor before Christmas.”

  Jem swept her gaze around the kitchen. He was talking about performing a Herculean task. “No way. It’s July. This place is a wreck. You can’t get everything done.”

  “Sure we can. The work doesn’t have to be done all at once. We’ll do it in stages. Come on, where’s my positive Pollyanna?”

  “We’ll need a new roof, landscaping, pavement in the parking area. And that’s just the outside stuff. We couldn’t possibly get it done in time for holiday parties.”

  “Ah, you said we. Does this mean you’re on board with it?” He trailed his fingers down her spine, then clasped his hands at the small of her back. The sexy dimples reappeared on his cheeks.

  “I see the potential here. You’re right. It’s a good space for the business Malin and I discussed.” She glanced over Jack’s shoulder at the sweeping view. It was easy enough to conjure a picture of a garden party or summer wedding on the grounds. “I suppose doing the work in phases makes sense. We’ll have some downtimes between busy seasons. But what if Malin doesn’t want to go into business together? She’s so busy now with the Boston branch of The Secret Garden, she might not have time.”

  “In that case, we’ll find you another partner. Or you’ll do it yourself. But something tells me Mal will want in.”

  Her thoughts bubbled like boiling water, one idea turning into another and another. “Opening a catering business means hiring staff... Eventually, I’ll need a sales manager and an accountant. Hey, do you suppose your mom and dad want jobs?” Eileen, her mother-in-law, was a bookkeeper. She’d be perfect for the job.

  Throwing his head back, Jack laughed, the booming sound filling the vast kitchen with mirth. “So, you’re not too mad to see the rest of the house?”

  “Maybe in a minute. First...” She licked her lips.

  Sliding her palms over his shoulders, she felt his muscles bunch as he splayed his hands on her back. She speared her fingers through his short, thick hair and pulled his face toward her. When their lips met, the last of her temper dissolved, replaced by the flame that constantly flickered between them.

  Her T-shirt rose with her arms, revealing the tattoo she knew drove Jack crazy. The first time they’d made love, he’d traced the details with his tongue. Now, he stroked his hands from the small of her back forward to her hips. He made small circles over the tattoo on her lower abdomen as he prodded her lips with his tongue until she opened for him.

  Oh, the man could kiss!

  Jem lost herself in the world of feeling they created between them in the dusty, run-down house. Bending at the knees, Jack eased his hands down her thighs until he reached the bottom of her shorts and found bare skin. The warmth in his fingers as he curled them under the hem unleashed heat and energy, heightening all of her senses.

  A light breeze stirred the air around them, sending a shiver along her spine. The sensation was palpable, as if someone had touched her, hugged her. The aroma of lemons filtered through the dust motes floating in the room. Knowing Jack’s hands remained on her thighs caused Jem to shudder. As he straightened, she shook away the feeling, content to lose herself in his arms.

  Jack cupped her butt and squeezed at the same time she felt a light touch on her shoulder. Confusion reared in her mind. It felt as though there were three hands on her body.

  She broke the kiss, stepped out of his arms, and spun in around until she pressed her back to his chest. “Someone touched me.”

  “Yeah, that was me.” Jack’s voice was husky and rough as he stroked his fingers down her hip.

  “No, it was different. Your hands were on my behind, but something...I don’t know, like ghostly, touched my shoulder. She darted her gaze around the room, peering into shadowy corners. Nothing was visible except cobwebs and dust dancing in the sunbeams that streamed through the wall of windows. Rotting plywood covered two of the four enormous casements. A sharp odor assailed her nostrils. She lifted her head, scenting the air. “Do you smell lemons?”

  Here she was talking calmly about ghosts. She should be panicked, but curiosity was the only emotion she felt.

  Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he pulled her closer, resting his chin on the crown of her head. His chest rose and fell under her shoulder blades. “I kind of smell it, but Jem, this place isn’t haunted. It’s just old.”

  Except for the very clear image of the old-fashioned woman she’d gotten when they’d been in the parlor. Was that her imagination, or something else?

  She shook her head to scatter those thoughts. Jack was right. Old houses had character, and a random breeze blowing through the closed-up kitchen was simply part of it.

  She eased away from Jack’s hard body and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Better show me the rest of the house. You said there’s a ballroom.”

  Jack grinned, the blue of his eyes awash with satisfaction. He grabbed her flashlight from the washboard and handed it to her before snagging his own. Tucking his fingers around hers, he led the way from the kitchen.

  Chapter 3

  Stepping into the alley Taste shared with The Secret Garden, Jem carried a tray laden with two large iced coffees along with the last slice of key lime pie from lunch. It was mid-afternoon, and she’d just closed and locked the front door of the café. She loved her breakfast-lunch only schedule. She’d never been tempted to add in a dinner menu, even though she received calls weekly from various guest houses, hotels, and bed and breakfast inns inquiring about evening hours.

  But now, thanks to the wonderful man she’d married, she contemplated adding weekends. After Jack finished the tour of the Sea View, Jem had done what she did best. She created a list of action items detailing what steps would convert a dream into a reality. She’d worked past her normal bedtime of ten, talking it over with Jack, discussing menu ideas and decorating thoughts. Together, they’d created a renovation timeline, which Jack had promised was reasonable, but before they moved on it, he wanted to discuss it with Sam.

  Sam would oversee the demolition work slated to begin soon. As a high school teacher, his summer months were free, allowing him to take on a project of this magnitude. He’d also be available to start the renovation before he had to report back for the new school year.

  Jem crossed the alley to the small garden area Malin Eckert, her friend and potential business partner, had created as an oasis of escape. They’d gotten in the habit of meeting a couple of times a week to catch up. Now, Mal sat on the flagstone pavers, weeding the mulched area surrounding the fragrant sweet bay magnolia. Gunnar sat on the bench, his arm slung casually over the back.

  “Hey, Gunnar.” Jem greeted him. “I didn’t realize you’d be here. I’d have brought another coffee.”

  The smile he turned her direction was warm, welcoming. Jem had been around him quite a bit since he’d moved to town last summer to take over Granite Bay Health Club because Gunnar’s sister, Rikki, was married to Sam. “I’m not staying. I just had a free half-hour and wanted to check in on my girls. Mal’s got Gaby cleaning the refrigerator cases in the shop. I brought the kid a protein shake from the club.”

 
; “With today’s heat, I bet she welcomed working in the fridges as much as the tasty beverage.” Jem offered one of the iced coffees to Gunnar, who shook his head. He extended a hand to Mal and pulled her to her feet.

  After dusting the back of her jeans, Mal took a seat next to Gunnar and tucked her ash blond hair behind her ear. She reached for the glass Gunnar had declined. “It is hot today. Thanks. Is that slice of pie for me?”

  “Unless you want to share with your husband.”

  “Oh, hell no. He can get his own.”

  “Wait, I thought we shared everything,” Gunnar protested. “Didn’t I just help you package the last batch of lotions for the resort?”

  “The packaging I had to re-do because you put the wrong stickers on them? Yes, you did.” Judging by the size of the grin on Mal’s face, the extra work hadn’t bothered her. She forked up a bite of the pie and fed it to Gunnar. Licking his upper lip to clean off a stray bit of meringue, he closed his eyes.

  A small hum sounded as he rubbed his flat belly. “Jem, I swear, your pastry chef is a freaking wizard. Pie like that can only be called magic.” Gunnar leaned in and pecked Mal’s cheek before surging off the bench. His shoulder brushed the edge of the vine-shrouded pergola as he moved aside and gestured for Jem to take his abandoned seat. “Mal, you are much too picky for your own good. Those pear soap labels looked great on the plumeria lotion bottles. But I love you anyway. I’ll see you at home later.”

  Mal waved her fingers at him before he disappeared through the back door of her flower shop. “God, I love that man. Even when he makes a huge mistake like mislabeling three dozen bottles of lotion, he’s so damned charming about helping fix it, I just can’t stay mad at him.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” Jem leaned the tray against the heavy timber support of the arbor before claiming a seat next to her friend. She pulled the elastic band from her hair, releasing her curls. After a satisfying sip of her iced coffee, she asked, “Ready to play one-up?”