***
The ghost tour began in the hotel’s basement library. With its low ceiling, wood-paneled walls, and nautical decorations the entire area reminded him of an old ship captain’s quarters. He’d once toured several old ships at Mystic Seaport. Intended to allow visitors to see and experience life in an old New England seaport during the height of whaling, the living museum contained several preserved ships. Unlike the quarters on those ships, the library had electricity powering the lanterns on the walls rather than oil, and thick wall-to-wall carpeting covered the floor.
“Thank you for joining me this evening. My name is Missy Carr, and I will be your guide tonight.” A middle-aged woman with long gray hair stood at the front of the room. Dressed in a black dress with long flowing sleeves, the tour guide looked ready to mount a broomstick and fly into the night sky.
“Tonight we’ll begin our tour here, where the spirit of ten-year-old Lizzie Scranton resides.”
The lights in the room dimmed, and Sean held back a snort of laughter.
“Long before this hotel was built, a prominent sea captain’s home stood here. On his last trip across the Atlantic, he took his wife with him, and they left Lizzie behind with her nanny. On their return trip, their ship sank during a storm. After that Lizzie bounced between relatives until she died from pneumonia at the age of ten.”
An extra cold blast of air blew down on him from the air conditioning vent in the wall. In front of him a few people shivered and whispered to their neighbors.
“Countless people have seen Lizzie down here and on the third floor waiting for her parents to return. Maybe before we leave tonight, she’ll make an appearance.”
Yeah, right . . . and the earth is going to stop spinning.
“The rest of tonight’s tour will last approximately two hours and will take us all around Salem. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask. If at any point you become too tired to finish, I completely understand. I can radio back to have a hotel shuttle come pick you up. All you need to do is let me know. Does anyone have any questions before we head out?” Missy looked around the room, her eyes moving past him and Mia only to swing back in their direction.
The tour guide took a few steps toward them but stopped short when a teenager in the front called out. “I just saw her. She was right next to that door.” The teen with purple hair pointed to a door marked “staff only.” The entire group, with the exception of Mia and Sean, looked at the empty space.
“Let’s hope our other stops are just as active tonight.” Missy smiled around at the group. “Everyone please follow me.”
“I bet she saw her own shadow, if she saw anything at all,” Mia whispered in his ear as she took his hand and joined the line going up the stairs.
Her hands were as smooth and soft as his were rough and callused. The stark contrast turned him on. Not that his body needed any further encouragement. Ever since she’d walked down the stairs in her ridiculous boots, he’d wanted to push her against a wall and taste her lips again before peeling her clothes away and losing himself inside her.
So far he’d managed to keep the caveman inside him from bursting out and doing exactly what he pleased. If fighting with his father was bad for business, then groping a guest was even worse.
“I don’t believe that little girl’s spirit haunts the hotel, but it was a sad story. I cannot imagine what it must have been like to lose both parents at the same time,” Mia said as they walked outside, the warm night air a pleasant change from the chilly basement.
Her voice pulled him from his daydream of them together. When had he last fantasized like that? Damned if he knew. “Yeah,” he said as he tried to discreetly readjust himself. The partial erection he’d had all night now strained against his zipper. If he had any hope of surviving the night, he needed something other than Mia Troy in his thoughts.
Up ahead, the tour guide stopped in front of a cemetery. Like obedient children, the group stopped and fell silent, waiting for whatever story Missy Carr had prepared for them.
“Now this cemetery dates back to 1779 and many spirits have been seen wandering between the headstones. The most frequent sightings, though, are of a young man and woman dressed in Civil War clothing. Residents believe they are the spirits of Fitzgerald Wilson and Anne Montgomery.”
Next to him Mia moved, her hip brushing up against him, sending more heat through his body.
“The young couple fell in love despite the fact that Anne came from a wealthy prominent family in Salem while Fitzgerald worked as a footman in a nearby mansion. When the Civil War broke out, Fitzgerald joined the Union Army and died during the battle of Gettysburg in July, 1863. When Anne learned of his death weeks later, she committed suicide. Anne was buried here in her family plot. Fitzgerald’s grave is unknown. The first sightings of Anne and Fitzgerald began a year after her death and have continued ever since.”
“That’s kind of romantic,” Mia said, as the group crossed into the cemetery.
“Suicide, romantic? More like insane.”
Her thumb rubbed across his hand. “I don’t mean the suicide.” Together they passed through the rows of gravestones, some so old and weathered they appeared almost blank. “I meant romantic because they didn’t let anything stand between them and their love. Not even death kept them apart.”
The whole story sounded stupid. Killing herself hadn’t brought the boyfriend back and probably devastated her family. “Whatever you say.” He might not have as much experience with women as some men, but he knew better than to argue with one over something so trivial.
The tour guide led them out through a back entrance. “Our next stop will be The House of Seven Gables.”
The guide led them to Turner street and toward the Turner-Ingersoll Mansion, better known as The House of Seven Gables thanks to Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel. When the group arrived at the house, Missy stopped and faced them all again. “Before we go inside I’d like to give you a little history about the home. It was originally built in 1668 by the Turner family and is the oldest surviving 17th century wooden mansion in New England. It was purchased by the Ingersoll family in 1782. Many visitors have reported seeing Susanna Ingersoll, Nathaniel Hawthorne’s cousin, roaming the halls. There have also been reports of a boy running and playing in the attic.” Missy let the crowd digest the information. “Unless someone has a question, let’s head inside.”
An older woman next to Mia raised her hand. “Is this where the author was born?”
Sean tapped his fingers against his leg, as the tour guide answered the question. On a field trip one year, his class had toured the house, so much of what the guide said he’d already heard.
“I’m surprised she didn’t mention the theory that the house was part of the underground railroad.” Mia’s breath tickled his ear.
“Maybe she forgot.”
“Okay, everyone, lets head inside,” Missy said from the front as she opened the door.
When they left the house ten minutes later, Sean and Mia remained at the back of the group.
“Our next stop is the Cinema Salem,” Missy announced, leading them down the sidewalk like a mother duck leading her ducklings.
When they approached a bench outside a McDonald’s, Mia’s pace slowed. “I need to sit. My feet are killing me,” she grumbled as she dropped down onto the wooden bench.
Told-you-so sat on the tip of his tongue, and if it had been his sister next to him, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Instead, he pressed his lips together and sat down next to her. Tipping back his head, Sean searched the night sky for constellations. A night like this was perfect for locating familiar patterns, something he had not done in a long time.
“Thanks for not saying, ‘I told you so.’ ”
Sean turned his gaze away from the stars above to the one seated next to him. “I don’t know you well enough.” Bathed in the moonlight, she took on an incandescent look, a living angel on earth.
“I’d like to do somet
hing about that.” Mia ran her finger along the side of his face starting with the scar and ending below his lower lip. “I’ll be in North Salem for a little longer.”
Her touch remained feather light, yet it reached inside him and pulled at something more than pure physical desire. Before he could answer, she leaned in and kissed him. A soft sweet kiss. She pulled away before he could fully enjoy the feel of her lips against his.
“What do you say?”
What did he say? He’d be a goddamn idiot if he said no. One of the world’s sexiest women sat next to him and she wanted to start something up. “I’m game.” Only after answering did he realize how crass he sounded, but it was too late to take back the words.
“Good.” With that simple reply, she leaned in to kiss him again.
“Are you up for finishing the tour?” he asked when he pulled back for air. “If not, I can go get the truck while you wait inside, and we can go.”
Mia slipped her hand in his again. “I’ll never make another hour walking, but I can make it to the truck. Let’s head back.”
“You got it.” He stood and pulled her up behind him.
They walked in silence for a bit until he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should say something. “What kind of movie are you doing in Boston?”
“It’s not a pure romance, but it’s not a heavy drama either.” She paused for a moment. “I guess it’s a beauty and the beast story without the singing clock and talking tea cup, although it’ll never be promoted that way. Mark Walden plays this super successful lawyer from Boston whose family owns a chain of restaurants. Dan Burns plays an army vet who was injured in the war. The poor guy will be in makeup for hours every day as they get his facial injuries just right.”
“Let me guess, he’s the beast.” They turned onto Washington Square. “And the guy you end up with?”
Mia gave him a tiny nudge in the side. “You’ll just have to see the movie like everyone else.”
He bit back the first words that popped into his head. He stayed away from romantic movies. He preferred films with either lots of action or suspense. “Fair enough.”
“I’m guessing my films aren’t the type you enjoy,” Mia said, as if she’d read his thoughts. “That’s okay.”
“The one that comes out in the fall looked good. I saw a preview the last time I went to the movies.” When the short clip for the thriller played, he’d been surprised to see both Mia Troy and Anderson Brady in the scene. Neither were known for such movies.
“That movie is like nothing I’ve ever done before,” she said as they approached his truck in the hotel parking lot.
Once they were both seated, Sean pulled out of his parking spot and waited for an opening in the traffic. “What made you pick something so different?”
“A few things. One of the real biggies was because it was so different. With the exception of my role on Family Life, I’ve more or less always played the same character. There have been small differences, but you could take the character from one movie and pop it into another and it would still make sense.”
Since he didn’t know if she wanted him to agree or not, he kept his mouth shut and instead reached for her hand.
“I don’t want to be known as a character actor. That movie seemed like the perfect opportunity to branch out.”
She fell silent, and he glanced over at her when they stopped at a red light. With her face cast in shadows he couldn’t clearly make out her expression, but she looked deep in thought.
“And I hoped something different would give me back that spark. When I first started acting, it was fun and exciting. I loved everything about it. Lately it hasn’t been like that. I don’t hate it, but it’s gotten mundane, I guess. Sounds silly doesn’t it?” she asked, and he heard the insecurity in her voice.
He didn’t have a glamorous acting career, but he understood how she felt. “Not at all,” he said as they entered town. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mia adjust her position in her seat.
“Sometimes I feel like something is missing, you know. I thought it was because my career needed a change, but while I enjoyed the challenge of the different role, it didn’t help.”
How should he reply to that? Neither his friends nor family shared such intimate emotions with him. “Maybe you need a break from acting instead.” He pulled into the driveway of The Victorian Rose. If she no longer enjoyed acting, then finding something else to do made sense to him.
“I’ve thought about that.”
He heard the sound of fabric against leather as she undid her seat belt and slid closer to him. Then her hand rested on his arm, gently rubbing his wrist and playing with his fingers. “Thank you for a nice night. I had a lot of fun.”
Sean slipped a hand under her hair and cradled her head as he lowered his lips toward hers. “Me, too,” he whispered just before he took possession of her mouth.
With no hesitation, Mia slid the rest of the way across the bench seat and her hand dropped on his shoulder as she leaned toward him.
Fueled by her response, he slipped a hand under her top. At first he let it rest on her waist, her skin hot and soft under his fingers. When she didn’t protest or pull away, his fingers found their way up her firm torso until they hit lace. Again he paused until he felt a tug on the back of his shirt as she pulled it from his pants. Not needing any further encouragement, he let his fingers slip inside her bra and rub against her taught nipple.
With a moan, she tore her mouth away and looked at him. “Now might be a good time to go up to your room,” she said.
Reluctantly withdrawing his hand from her bra, he nodded and opened his door. Then in silence they crossed to the back kitchen door and up the old servants’ staircase to the attic and his bedroom.