by Polly Holmes
She rolled her lips together then said, “I was really sorry to hear about your father.”
“Thank you.”
She paused and rubbed her chin, looking him up and down. “Although, she didn’t mention the glasses. You definitely have the Clark Kent look down pat.”
“Excuse me?” he said, taken aback by her forthcoming manner.
She rolled her eyes. “You must know what I mean. Gorgeous guy tries to hide behind his sexy glasses. I’m Suzi, by the way, I work with Clair and Charlotte at CC’s Simply Cupcakes.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Suzi. Is Clair around?”
She gasped stepping back from the doorway. “Oh, my goodness, how rude of me. Please come in and I’ll go get her for you. I was just about to leave anyway.” Suzi quickly closed the door behind him and headed toward the kitchen. “Have a seat,” she said, pointing toward the same kitchen chair he’d sat at earlier. “I’ll go find her.”
He’d forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of good old, small-town hospitality. It was something he missed terribly, living in the centre of a frenzied Surfers Paradise, especially during the summer months.
****
Three coffees and an hour and a half later, Clair sat crossed-legged on her bed, computer nestled in her lap, still engrossed in her Internet search. “Oh, my…no way,” she muttered, her mind moving faster than her hand could write. “I did some research on the mansion, guess I wasn’t looking in the right places.” She should have kept digging, Google has an interesting way of hiding the very information you need, pages and pages into a search.
She’d been living in Ashton Point for three years and somehow the full history of the Sweets mansion had eluded her? While she didn’t believe in curses, there had to be some truth to this new information. She’d found a few sites that mentioned a curse, but most were focused on the tragic fire of 1878. Clair flicked from site to site. “Far out. This one says a six-month-old baby died in the fire and its spirit is trapped in the house, while this one says it was a long-lost relative of Mrs Sweets who has escaped from jail.”
Maybe the house is cursed.
“And this one says no-one was killed in the fire, but it was started by a gas heater deliberately knocked over and igniting the woollen rug.” Each site she read gave a different account. What am I supposed to believe? An odd sensation pricked the back of her neck and goosebumps bolted up her arms. Maybe she should have done a little more research before she put an offer in on the house. A cursed house can’t be good for business.
Clair’s head snapped up as a quiet knock at the door startled her. “Charlotte?”
“No, it’s Suzi,” she said cracking the door open a little. “Sorry for barging in like this, Charlotte was desperate for her design book. She’s knee deep in flour and chocolate icing so she gave me her key to pop over to get it. Hope that was all right?”
Suzi was like a sister. She fit like a glove into their family unit, the only thing missing was the red hair. But she had the feistiness of a red-head. Clair smiled. “Of course, you know you’re welcome here anytime.”
“Charlotte did say she’d text you I was coming.”
She did? Clair swiped her phone from the bedside table and checked. “Oops, here it is. Sorry about that. I was so engrossed with this curse business that I didn’t even hear it go off.”
Suzi pushed further into her room, a sly grin washed over her face as she sat on the end of Clair’s bed. “I know you’re busy, but there’s a gorgeous man by the name of Mason here to see you, he’s sitting in your kitchen.”
Mason, back so soon and in my kitchen. She closed her eyes and flopped back against her cushy pillows. “So you’ve met him?”
Suzi nodded, her eyes shining like a child’s on Christmas morning. “Sure did.”
“I know I agreed to it, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to work side-by-side with him?”
“Oh, come off it. He’s not that bad. Actually, I think he’s kinda cute.” Suzi giggled.
“Exactly,” Clair said her voice raising an octave. “He’s more than ‘kinda cute.’”
“If you didn’t find him a tad attractive, there’d be something wrong.”
Clair tried to put a lid on the personal tug-o-war her heart was playing and focus on the goal. Proving her innocence. “I know he said he wanted to help, but what if James’ death really does have something to do with me? I don’t want to be responsible for any more deaths in the Hapworth family. One is enough.”
“You won’t. Mason’s a big boy. I’m sure he can take care of himself and if he can help, you should take it.”
“I know you’re right, but I can’t afford any distractions right now.”
“Come on, Clair. So, he’s attractive. Surely, you’ve met attractive men before.”
“Yes, but—”
Suzi shook her finger at Clair. “Don’t play Miss Innocent with me, we’ve been friends way too long. If you think you’re not going to be able to work with him, then I’d be happy to take your place and you can help Charlotte at the shop.” Suzi’s giggle grated on Clair’s nerves.
No way.
Suzi continued without batting an eyelid. “You could always leave it up to Detective Anderson, but I can guarantee Mason is a much nicer option, and he smells way better. Even if he is only going to be here for a short time. What harm could it do?”
What harm, indeed?
Clair sighed in resignation. “Okay.” As long as I stay focused on the task and not the man, I’ll be fine.
Suzi bolted from the bed. “Great, I’m outta here. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Clair said as she pulled her hair up and straightened her shirt. “I’m going to need more than luck.” She looked toward the sky. “Grandma, if you can hear me I could really do with some help right about now.”
Chapter Five
CLAIR GRABBED HER laptop from the bed and headed out to the kitchen, adrenaline pumping through her body. She paused a moment by the doorway as her eyes fell on Mason seated at the table. Her head spun like a giddy teenager’s.
Suzi was right, he most definitely has the Clark Kent look happening. Her own words flitted through her mind. But as long as I stay focused on the task and not the man I’ll be fine.
Clair squelched her growing desire for Mason and sucked in a deep, painful breath. “Mason,” she said, stepping into the kitchen.
His head spun and his eyes widened. She flinched at the dubious look in his eyes. Gee, I didn’t think I looked that bad.
“Clair, nice to see you again. Suzi let me in, I hope you don’t mind?”
She smiled. “Of course not.”
He nodded at her laptop. “How did you do researching the curse?”
Now, there’s a topic she could definitely talk about. She pulled out a chair and joined him at the table, ignoring her stepped-up pulse rate. “Actually, there was more information than I expected.” She re-opened her laptop at the articles and turned it in Mason’s direction. “It all seems to stem from the fire of 1878. As you can see, it appears there are a number of articles, each with a different version of the fire and each with a different victim. The curse is mentioned in a few, but the truth is anyone’s guess.”
Mason frowned as his gaze searched each article. “I see what you mean.”
Clair couldn’t take her eyes off him. She found herself wondering if he ever wore contact lenses. If he did, she’d be able to see his gorgeous eyes shine, instead of being hidden behind those thick-rimmed glasses. Focus.
“What did you find out about Stella and Roland Trent,” she asked, moving from the table to the coffee machine. More coffee? Her energy levels were already off the scale, she’d be climbing the walls if she had any more caffeine. She opted for a glass of filtered water instead.
“I guess the question should be ‘what didn’t I find?’” he said closing her laptop.
“Excuse me?” she said with a raised eyebrow.
“As you know, my father and Stella have been an
item.” He waited for her acknowledgment before continuing. “Seems they got married about a month ago.”
Clair’s jaw dropped. “No way. How did they keep that a secret in this town?” She could see the disdain on his face.
“I’m pretty sure half the words she spoke were lies. According to Stella, my dad went ten pin bowling every Thursday evening, which I know is impossible since he tore the rotator cuff in his right shoulder in a golf tournament.”
“Ouch, that would be painful,” Clair said, her stomach squirming.
Mason nodded. “Exactly. Either she’s lying or James was lying to her about his whereabouts on Thursday evenings. Then she informs me he was also taking a public relations course every Monday evening and some Saturdays at Watson’s Creek. Now, if he lied about the bowling, he could have lied about that as well. Either way, it needs further investigation.”
Clair rubbed her chin, digesting each word as he spoke. “And Roland Trent?”
“She denied ever knowing him, which we both know is a lie if we are to believe Mrs Stevenson, and I do.”
A renewed energy bolted Clair into action. “All the more reason to check out Roland Trent’s office. There has to be something in there that can link him to either James or Stella.” She threw her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her keys. “Are you coming?”
Mason stood, concern plastered over his expression. “To Roland Trent’s office? Do you think that’s wise?”
“Yep. It may be the only way to find the truth and we might be able to put those computer skills of yours to good use.”
Mason frowned. “How are we supposed to get into his office? For all we know, the police have blocked it off.”
She giggled, heading for the front door. “I have an in with the doorman. You see, we came to the rescue with an awesome mermaid cupcake display for his daughter’s eighth birthday not so long ago so he owes me. We’ll say we’re looking at a location for a new business. It can’t be helped if we just happen to head into the wrong door while we’re there.” A cheeky grin spread across his face and she knew she’d scored bonus points. “Shall we?” she asked holding the door open.
“It sounds like I’m not going to change your mind, even if I wanted to,” Mason said as he brushed past her.
“That’s right,” she said pulling the door to behind her.
“Would you like me to drive?” Mason asked. “We could always use it as another cover. You know, showing me the sights of Ashton Point. I’m sure it’s changed a lot since I lived here ten years ago.”
“Sure.” Her words bombarded her thoughts once again. As long as I stay focused on the task and not the man, I’ll be fine.
By the time Mason pulled up outside Sampson Office Building in Watsons Creek, Clair’s nerves were as jumbled as a bowl of tagliatelle pasta. Mason had made small talk most of the way. The more conversation he made the more she felt him placating her, as if he was steering clear of any real conversation that involved him sharing about himself. She couldn’t really blame him. It’s not like he owed her an explanation or anything. Losing your father under such questionable circumstances would rattle anyone’s cage.
“What if you can’t find the answers you’re looking for?” Mason asked as they headed toward the entrance.
“Us McCorrson women are pretty resilient. I’ll think of something.” Clair winked in Mason’s direction, her heart doing a little hiccup as a cute dimple surfaced on his right cheek. “Just follow my lead and what could go wrong?”
Clair mentally crossed her fingers and prayed. Please let me find the answers I’m looking for.
She pushed through the double glass doors, breathing a sigh of relief when her gaze fell on Arthur sitting at the reception desk. Clair turned on her best professional smile and sashayed up to the counter. “Arthur, it’s so good to see you again. How is that beautiful daughter of yours?”
Arthur’s eyes widened with tenderness as he stood. “Clair. She’s doing great, as usual. I’ve been so worried about you with all this murder and curse business running around town. Anyone who would believe you would ever hurt someone has rice bubbles in their head for brains.”
Relief bloomed in her chest at his vote of confidence. “Thank you, Arthur. It’s nice to have at least one other person in Ashton Point that believes in my innocence.”
Arthur gasped, his jaw dropping. “Nonsense, there’s plenty of people who believe in you.” His gaze caught Mason’s in passing. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Excuse my rudeness,” Clair said, her gaze flitting sideways. “This is Mason Hapworth. James Hapworth’s son. He drove down from Surfers Paradise when he heard about his father’s death.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mason said holding his hand out.
Arthur stepped out from behind his desk and greeted Mason. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”
“Thank you.”
“I hope you don’t think this young lady had anything to do with his murder?” Arthur snapped, crossing his arms across his chest. Clair’s knees wobbled like jelly as Mason’s magnetic gaze glued her to the spot.
“No, I don’t believe for one moment that this gorgeous woman would hurt a fly, let alone kill someone and I’m doing my best to help keep her mind distracted.” He smiled at Clair and her heart momentarily stopped.
Distracted? As long as I stay focused on the task and not the man, I’ll be fine.
Mason continued oblivious to her frozen status. “As I was saying to Clair earlier today, when things aren’t always going as planned, I like to focus on work.”
“Is that so,” Arthur said with a smirk. He finally returned his attention to Clair. “What can I do for you, Clair?”
With her attention momentarily frozen on Mason, Arthur’s words were like a muffled record straining to be heard. Gorgeous woman?
Mason cleared his throat and took a step closer to the counter. “I mentioned to Clair this morning that I was looking at starting my own computer business here in town and I thought since she’d done some research on the local real estate market, she might be able to point me in the right direction. I was right, ‘cause here we are.”
You were? Clair raised her eyebrows and glared at Mason. Giddiness swept through her. How did I miss that bit of information?
“Isn’t that right, Clair?” Mason asked, turning to face her square on. His eyes widened and his lips suddenly moved without a sound. “Follow my lead,” he mouthed.
Realising her blunder, she shook the cobwebs from her mind and once again focused on the task. That’s the last time I let my guard down. Time to prove my innocence.
She beamed a gentle smile at both men. “That’s right and this is the place to be. This building right here is going to be the business hub before you know it. I thought while Mason was in town, I’d bring him down to look at some of the available office spaces I’d heard about. I’m sure they’re exactly what he’s looking for. Would that be all right, Arthur?”
“Normally, the real estate agent likes to be with the client when they are showing them through the empty offices,” Arthur said in a matter-of-fact manner.
Clair’s stomach bottomed out. Oh no, he’s not going to let us in. What now?
Mason piped up before Clair could utter a word. “You are absolutely right and normally I would head there first, but it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Clair and I have had a pretty rough time and we both needed something to get our minds off what’s been going on. Couldn’t you cut us some slack, just this once?”
Clair found her voice. “It would mean the world to me, Arthur.”
The growing tension was like walking on eggshells and she held her breath. Arthur’s lips turned upward into a warm smile. “That should be no problem. After all, what are friends for?” He handed her a bunch of keys. “Here you go. These will get you into the empty offices on level three. There are only four currently available.”
The breath escaped her lips. “Thanks, Arthur, you’re a real friend,” Clair sa
id as she grabbed the keys and headed for the lifts with Mason hot on her heels. “Boy, that was close,” she whispered.
Her heart was racing like a galloping horse inside her chest. Now to get down to business. Clair’s gaze casually scanned the index board by the lift controls. Roland Trent and Associates, Level Eight. Mason had already pressed the button for level three when she turned to him. “We need level eight,” she whispered.
He looked down at her with his enticing gaze. “Yes, I know, but Arthur will be expecting the lift to stop at three and if it doesn’t, what’s to stop him coming over to check? We get off at level three and walk the stairs for the rest.”
She balked at the thought. “Five flights of stairs?”
Mason smirked. “What’s the matter, a little out of shape are we?”
Out of shape…Ha! I’ll show you out of shape. A twinge of annoyance niggled at the back of Clair’s mind. “Not a problem. You lead the way and I’ll keep up.”
Clair’s lungs begged for air. Each foot moved one stair after the other, until she took the last step to level eight. She’d kept pace with Mason up the stairwell, ignoring the razor-cutting burn in her legs. The sideways movement of his tight derriere hadn’t even been able to distract her from the pain. Oh, my goodness, how did I get so out of shape? Charlotte’s cupcakes, that’s how. I promise if I get out of this mess alive I’m cutting down to two cupcakes a day, and joining a gym.
“How you doing back there?” Mason asked as they exited the stairwell.
Clair noticed that Mason had barely cracked a sweat. “Okay, I give in. How are you not even breathless after that climb?”
“Jealous?” he said. Spinning around to face her, he continued walking backward down the corridor.
“Hardly. You’re a computer programmer, right?” He nodded. “You sit behind a computer all day and play with a keyboard. How are you not exhausted?”
He stopped suddenly. Ahhhh. Clair’s jelly legs ignored the message her brain was sending. Stop…stop…please stop. She found herself pitching forward into his arms. Her adrenaline-charged body connected with his and it was as if they were suddenly locked in a moment of time together. His muscles tensed as she gripped his shoulders while he held her gaze in his.
