Thigh High (27 page)

Check with Faye. See the books.

“I want to talk to Faye,” she said. “I have questions.”

“Of course you do. Any good journalist would.”

She smiled at that. Matt smiled back and retrieved their clothes. They dressed quickly. The clouds finally darkened the clearing.

“In a weird way, I'll be sorry to leave the mansion,” he said as they picked their way through the trees. “I found something here I never expected.”

“What's that?”

“You.”

C
arrie closed the accounting program Faye used. She'd been surprised by the easygoing response to her request to see it. But then, Faye had good reason for wanting to share.

The mansion was doing a roaring business on lodging, but the actual auction money was going to different charities. Each charity was in some way involved with the welfare of women, children and families in need.

But there was one thing in the books that didn't jive with her own experience at the mansion.

“I don't see enough food supply bills on here to account for the five-star dining.” She tapped her index nail on the desktop. Her suspicions proved correct when Faye went pink in the cheeks.

“That's because the guests are—how shall I put this?—encouraged to think they've eaten more and better than they have.”

The spirits could make people think they'd eaten when they hadn't. A chill ran down her spine.

“So, what did we eat at dinner last night?” She recalled a sumptuous meal of five or six courses. A meal she'd eaten mechanically and couldn't remember chewing.

“Soup du jour and a nice array of deli sandwiches. Everyone ate. No one could make a guest think they'd eaten when they hadn't.”

“Nice that you uphold such strict principles.”

Faye flushed a deeper shade of red. “Thank you. If you noticed the lack of invoices for food, you'll also see that meals are included in the cost of the room.”

The books showed the money bid for the bachelors was going to charity, while the income from the lodgings provided went to Perdition House.

A loophole perhaps, but a good one. For all intents and purposes, the auction seemed like any other bachelor auction. What happened after the bidding took place was a private matter between the bachelors and the women who bid for them. Around for years, these auctions were fun and an easy way to raise funds.

Carrie set her chin on her hand and looked at Faye.

“Yes, they buy sex,” Faye admitted. “But the women who visit us need the quiet, restful atmosphere of Perdition House just as much. The sex is the best they'll probably ever have because they're relaxed. They're not squeezing time for sex out of busy schedules while they're here.”

“You must have a lot of regulars.”

Faye smiled. “We do. Will I give you a list of their names? Not on your life.”

“I wouldn't expect you to. And I wouldn't ask. The women who attend these auctions were never my target. I never wanted to expose their secrets.”

“Just mine.” Faye nodded. “And now that you know the truth, what will you do?”

“Tell me about them, Faye. Why did the ghosts or spirits or demons allow me to come if they already knew why I was coming?”

“Don't dare call them demons. They're lost souls, looking for their mates.” She pursed her lips. “They brought you here because they've decided you need help.”

“Help with what?”

“Your love life. You need help finding love, and since Matt was coming here anyway…”

The horror on her face must have been plain, because Faye's voice trailed away.

Carrie's hackles rose. “My love life? I don't need—”

The blond beauty raised her hand to cut off the protest. “Understand, this isn't me. I've been meddled with myself. Tortured in a way. My sex drive was tweaked to beyond bearable. I walked away from a wedding, had to choose between two new lovers, was driven to distraction by a practical joker who thought it was fun to have me fuck my brains out with a man I'd just met.”

“Liam?”

She nodded.

“But he's a wonderful man.”

“Exactly.” She shrugged. “And then there was my landscape designer. She arrived and met a man my Aunt Belle had called in from Florida no less.”

“And?”

“More meddling.” Faye rolled her eyes. “I don't know how they do it, but they seem to know who needs help and who doesn't. But not everyone who comes to Perdition is receptive to the girls.”

“The girls?”

“That's what I call them. But I suspect we've got a couple of men around too. I haven't met them all yet.”

Carrie let the rest of her questions go. She had enough to digest for now. Like the idea that the story she'd hoped would get her out of the fluff pages wasn't even her own idea! How awful was that?

Defeated by the knowledge that she wasn't half as bright, or as dedicated as she thought she was, she slumped into the office chair.

“Why so dejected?” Faye asked.

She sighed and responded to the kind regard in the other woman's eyes. “Six months ago I was happy writing articles about the local scene. Dog shows were fun. I found a local author's book launch inspiring. During the holidays I even reported on craft fairs and found a way to enjoy it. But then, I soured on the whole thing. Needed to be harder hitting, sharper. I thought I'd come up with my breakout story on Perdition House myself. Now I find the idea was a ruse to get me here.”

Faye nodded. “Your ambition made you set aside your dreams of love. That's probably when the girls picked up on you.”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “Whoever heard of a bunch of hookers giving a rat's ass about love?”

“Hookers who found it themselves.” The softness in Faye's tone touched a chord.

“One more question, if you don't mind.”

“What is it?”

“Have these girls of yours been messing with Matt and me all along? Every time we made love?”

Faye considered. “Sometimes you can tell right away. Outrageous behavior outside the norm is a good sign they've given your sex drive a crank. But if you feel normal in your desire, it's likely all you. At least, that's what's been happening so far.”

“Are they in my head during sex?” Or in her body?

Faye shrugged. “Probably not.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “But they do like to feel orgasms.”

“What?!”

“They leech off them.” She held up her hand to silence her. “Maybe even enhance them. It's the only physical sensation they still have, so part of this is because they want to feel something again and the other part is about them helping you find love.”

“Love.” She considered how her feelings for Matt had developed so quickly. “So Matt needed help too?”

“You may not have met him otherwise. If the old saying is true that there's someone for everyone, why not Matt?”

Indeed. And since that first spectacular session with him during the pre-auction cocktail party, the sex had leveled out. The swing in the woods had been private, fun and interesting, but not out-and-out bizarre for her. With a caring lover a little adventure that pushed her sexual limitations was reasonable. Everything with Matt felt right for a start to a relationship. Everyone knew that in the beginning the sex was hot and plentiful, that the urge to get down and dirty helped a couple focus and commit to each other.

It relieved her to know that once they hooked up, the spirits had pretty much left them to their own devices. She'd felt no barriers with Matt, no awkwardness in how they made love. The fact that she thought of it as lovemaking should have been a clue.

If this weekend had just been about sex and retreating from a hectic world, she would have kept some defenses in place. As it was, she'd let Matt take her heart without a fight.

Faye studied her while she thought. “Carrie, may I ask when you'll know how much you plan to reveal about Perdition House in your article?”

“I'm not sure what I'll say.” She'd begged to do the article, and now she wasn't sure she could deliver. But she needed to give it a shot, and Faye's question was fair. She hedged with a question of her own. “Why?”

“The girls are concerned. Rightfully so because the financial balancing act for the mansion is delicate. If your article impacts the auctions in a negative way, I'll have the devil's own time trying to replace that income. I'd hate to displace the spirits before they've had a chance to reunite with their loved ones.”

“Matt told me something about this.”

Faye nodded. “Once their true love story has been told, the girls move on to wherever they're going. Love is not just for this plane, after all. It lasts into eternity if given a chance. That's all they need. A chance. For some reason the spirits of Perdition House hang around until they're reunited. Rather romantic, don't you think?”

And a lot of souls to be responsible for. Not to mention their everlasting happiness. She looked at Faye with new eyes and saw the burden she carried. “That's a lot of responsibility. I'm not sure I want to be the one who ruins their chance for eternal love.”

Faye looked relieved. “I'm glad you understand.”

“I do understand your concerns. And theirs,” she added as an afterthought with a glance around the room. She couldn't be sure she and Faye were alone.

She needed to talk to Matt. “No worries, Faye, I'll get back to you soon. I have to turn in an article, but it won't be the one I planned. I won't expose the sex-for-hire side of the auctions.” With one more glance around the room for any lurking shadows, she headed out into the hall, where Liam told her Matt had gone up to the room.

She hoped he had the bed warm. She needed some downtime with him. Then she'd be able to think clearly. They could toss ideas around for the article, maybe come up with a fresh slant her editor would like.

But when she found Matt, he was packing his duffel bag, with his head tipped to one side. Between his ear and his shoulder sat a cell phone.

“Talk to you in a few days, after I make arrangements.” The phone slid onto the bed as he shoved a sweater into the bag. The phone bounced once, then he snatched it up and flipped it closed.

“I'd hoped we could spend some more time…” Her voice trailed off, getting smaller and smaller as fear gripped her throat. He was leaving, trying to get away from her without a word of good-bye. No soft promises of tomorrow, not even an exchange of telephone numbers.

He was ditching her.

He turned and his face lit. “Did you see Faye?”

“Yes. Did you talk to Liam?”

“I did. Pack your bags—we're out of here.”

Then she saw her laptop case, zipped closed and propped against the bed. Her bag lay open on top, ready to be filled. She moved toward it. “Where are we going? And why?”

He stepped to the dresser drawer she'd used and opened it. “Grab everything and come with me.”

Feeling his urgency from across the room, she obliged by scooping out her lingerie and change of clothes. She hadn't brought much, so it didn't take long.

By the time she'd stuffed an armload of clothing into her case, he'd gone into the bathroom. He rattled around so she went to the doorway to look in on him. He gathered his toothbrush and other toiletries. “She talked you out of doing the article, didn't she?”

“Not exactly. What's going on, Matt?”

He raised his head and stared at her. “Not here,” he mouthed. Then he spoke out loud. “We've got to go. Now!” But his voice sounded stretched out like audio in slow mo. The spirits were slowing everything down.

Matt's stride toward her took ages, her fumbling collection of her toiletries took much longer than it should.

But they kept going, moving, packing. Her laptop was the last thing she grabbed on the way out the door. It felt heavy and unbalanced in her grip.

“We need to get clear of the house. I need to think for myself,” he said. She agreed with a nod and followed him out of their room.

Each step outside the room was like a slog through deep, sucking mud. Down the stairs, into the front hall, they pushed against whatever it was that wanted them to stay.

Faye appeared in the doorway to her office. “People never leave on Saturdays,” she said. Her voice came slow and amused. Then she turned to empty space beside her and said, “Looks like you've frightened them away, Belle. Pity.”

A husky feminine laugh swirled around their heads as Matt turned the doorknob and pulled for all he was worth. He had to get them out of here. He had to.

Whatever was driving him, she trusted his lead.

The door opened with a sudden bang, as if all resistance died.

Then they were running, full speed, down the drive. “It's half a mile to the road. Can you make it?” he asked, grabbing her shoulder. His duffel bag bounced against his back, while her laptop case wobbled heavily in her hand. She dropped her overnight bag and took his hand. Anything in there could be replaced at any department store.

“I'm a jogger; you bet your ass I can make a half mile.”

“Good girl!” The dash to the gates was on.

An icy wind kicked up as they made it past the circular drive and hit the straightaway to the gate. The boughs from the trees that lined the drive touched each other over the hundred-year-old paving bricks.