"Naw, my banker knows me as J. R. So John Richard will do." He turned his attention to Ben. "J. R. Jessup." He stuck out his hand.
Ben accepted the man's firm, strong handshake and introduced himself. "I hear you're just out of the army. I did a stint in the marines myself."
J. R. accepted that in the timeless way men had of sizing up others. "Special Forces. Finally got tired of jumping out of perfectly good airplanes." He arched his back and rubbed as if it ached. "Also got tired of banging myself up. Reckon it's time to start using my brain again before it atrophies completely."
"I heard that."
Corrie handed J. R. his check. "Tell your daddy I'm still waiting on that part for the generator. When it comes in, I'll let him know. I really want it working before storm season gets into full swing."
"Sure. Do you need anything else done while I'm here?" He looked — not too subtly — around the room.
"Vanessa's gone home, J. R.," Corrie teased. "She works here from 6:30 till 3:30 every day. Come around any time."
"Now, Corrie, I didn't say anything about anybody," he said, and grinned sheepishly. He picked up his check and turned for the door, hat in hand.
"You didn't have to, J. R. I could tell. You were about as subtle as a bull in a china shop."
He raised his hat and waved with it. Still grinning, he hurried out the door.
"Nice guy," Ben commented as Jessup closed the door behind him.
"He is," Corrie agreed. "And the army certainly did wonders for his confidence. I hope he finds it easier to get a job this time around."
"Oh? Didn't you say he went to college?"
"Yeah. Graduated top of his class with a degree in physics. Couldn't get anybody to hire him though. That's why he joined the army." Corrie sighed. "I sure hope things have changed."
It didn't take a Ouija board for Ben to know what Corrie meant by that statement.
****
"Oh no, Ham. He's leaving," Cory murmured as she watched Ben hurry past her though the gallery, down the steps, and out the front door.
"He'll be back, Cory. Don't worry," Ham said, standing beside her at the gallery rail.
"How do you know he'll be back?" Cory responded petulantly, her chin tilted upward.
"Because, dearest, he has not taken his baggage with him. I'm sure he has merely gone out for supper."
"But last night our Corrine fixed dinner for him. Why didn't she do it tonight?"
Ham looked at his wife. "I'm afraid it may be because of the experiment we did with them last night." He sighed. "Remember, after they argued in the garden, we agreed to leave them be for awhile."
"But earlier they were getting along so well in the library." Cory smiled up into Ham's eyes. "How clever of you to hide the guest book where they would eventually find it. How did you do it?"
Ham shrugged. "I really don't know. I simply wished that she would not be able to find it, and as I did, the register fell to the floor. Then, when I realized it might have occurred because of my wish, I wished it into the library and then onto that shelf."
"And making Benjamin see Venable House as it was?"
"Again, I wished, and it was so."
"I wonder if I could do it," Cory murmured thoughtfully.
"I don't know, dearest. Perhaps, you should try."
Cory noticed that Ben had left his door ajar. She drifted inside. "Look, I think I'll try to move that washing pitcher." Cory concentrated and the pitcher rose a few inches above the washbowl beneath it.
"Very well done, Cory. Well done," Ham encouraged from behind her.
She glanced back, beaming at his approval, and the pitcher fell back into the bowl. "Oh dear. I suppose I must pay careful attention if this is to work." She doubled her efforts, furrowing her brow in concentration. She managed to raise the pitcher a foot or so above the table.
"I wish it were on the washstand in that awful room." The pitcher moved a short distance away from the stand. Corrie followed it and the pitcher seemed to dance in the air.
She turned her attention to Ham, but spun back around at the sound of a resounding crash. The pitcher had fallen to the floor. "What happened? Why didn't it go into the room?" She looked ruefully at the broken shards of chinaware. "It's most fortunate that this isn't one of Mother's good pieces." She wiped her hands on her gown. "Now what should we do?"
Ham looked from the mess on the floor and back to his wife. "We'd best leave it here for the professor to find."
"Yes, of course," Cory crowed softly. "We've given him another reminder that we're here. Then he'll surely want to stay here longer to investigate further."
"And," Ham added, smiling. "Then, perhaps, he'll go to Corrie to complain." He thought a moment then turned back to his wife. "Why didn't you take the pitcher all the way to the room?"
Cory smiled wanly and sighed. "You know how I hate that room. I haven't set foot in it since… Well, you know."
****
Corrie sat down to her lonely dinner in her empty, silent dining room and wished that she'd invited Ben to join her. She looked at the huge green salad she'd tossed and the plate of chicken breasts she'd broiled. There was certainly enough for him.
No, she reminded herself with a conscious effort at a defiant tilt of her chin — though who she was trying to impress with that gesture, she didn't know. She was, after all, alone. They had agreed to keep their relationship professional. And the kind of professional relationship she'd been contemplating in the last half hour or so was highly illegal. But, sharing a meal wasn't that personal. Unless she was sharing it in her tiny, private dining room.
This was one time she wished that the inn served more than just breakfast. Then, perhaps, they'd be sharing a meal in the public dining room with Vanessa or someone else acting as a buffer.
But, she wasn't sure she wanted Vanessa around to keep them honest. She remembered all too well how she had felt as she'd melted into Ben's arms last night. Corrie sighed. Maybe they could negotiate a different agreement.
Something that involved touching.
Kissing.
"Yeah, Wallace," she muttered as she poked through the salad and found a cucumber. "Then what kind of woman would he think you are?"
Knowing she would need all the energy that food would provide to keep from throwing herself at her first and only guest, Corrie popped the cucumber into her mouth.
However, the only appetite she had right now had nothing to do with food.
****
Ben didn't see Corrie when he came in, so rather than ring the bell and bother her, he circled the desk and grabbed his key. He did scribble a note to her and propped it up next to the phone, so she'd know that he'd taken it.
And that the ghosts had not.
Chuckling at the notion, he took the stairs two at a time and headed toward his room. He had hoped to see Corrie and find some excuse to spend more time with her, but since no opportunity had presented itself, he had no recourse but to keep going. He regretted their agreement to keep their relationship formal.
Of course, he reminded himself, if he hadn't accused her of trying to seduce him so he'd write about her bed and breakfast inn, he wouldn't have to steer clear of her now. He frowned in disgust.
He reached his door and stopped. It was ajar. He thought he'd closed it and locked it behind him, but had he? He had been hungry and in a hurry to get out and get something to eat. Or had Corrie gone in for some reason?
The notion that Corrie had come in and had wandered through his personal, though rented space, pleased him. Yet, he couldn't discount the notion that someone else had been there and was lurking still. He decided to take no chances. Carefully, he pushed the door open and switched on the light.
The first thing he noticed was that the water pitcher from the washstand was lying broken on the floor.
Skirting the debris, he made a quick inventory of his meager belongings. Then after finding nothing gone, he wheeled and headed downstairs.
Corrie still wasn
't at the desk, he noticed when he'd reached the bottom. But he did hear the faint click of an electronic keyboard through the office door, just barely open. She must be at work. Ben knocked gently on the door and waited.
After receiving no response in what he felt to be a reasonable time, he knocked again — this time harder — and pushed open the door.
No wonder she hadn't heard him knock! Corrie sat at her terminal pecking away at the keyboard, what appeared to be stereo, noise-canceling headphones mussing her strawberry blond hair. She hummed away, oblivious of his presence.
Ben had no recourse but to step inside. He crossed to her hoping she'd notice him, but when she still didn't look up, he touched her lightly on her shoulder. He wasn't surprised when she jerked around, startled.
"I'm sorry," he mouthed while he waited for Corrie to remove the earphones. "You obviously didn't hear me knock or notice that I'd come in."
Corrie laid the earphones down beside the keyboard, the tinny, distant music played on, spilling unheeded into the air. Hand on her chest, she looked up at him. "You've got to stop sneaking up on me."
Ben nodded toward the headset. "Maybe you shouldn't wear those when you're alone in the house or at work. Somebody with more evil intentions than mine could sneak up on you."
Sighing, Corrie agreed. "You're probably right. Maybe, I'll just put a little boom box in here and keep it turned down low. "She turned off the MP3 player then exited her program and turned off the monitor. Then she swiveled toward Ben. "What did you need me for?"
Ben could have made a suggestion, but he remembered their agreement. "You're not going to turn the machine off?"
"No. Vanessa might need to access some of the information tonight." Corrie pushed her chair away from the work station. Brushing a wayward strand of strawberry hair away from her eyes, she stood and looked at him expectantly.
"Oh." Ben remembered what he'd come to ask her. "Were you upstairs in my room tonight while I was gone?"
Corrie shook her head. "No, why?"
Ben took her by the elbow and hoped she wouldn't be put off by the familiarity of his touch. "You'd better come see it for yourself."
****
It was bad enough that Ben had scared the wits out of her by sneaking up on her, Corrie complained inwardly, but now he had to drag her off to some mysterious something. In his bedroom, yet. Considering the current state of her muddled thoughts, she didn't know whether to be alarmed — or charmed. She looked at Ben's broad back as she tried to keep up with his long, hurried strides. If only she had a hint of what he wanted.
"Wait, Ben. Slow down," Corrie gasped as the man took the long flight of stairs to the gallery two at a time. "I can't keep up." As if to reinforce her statement, she stumbled at the top of the stairs and lurched forward.
Ben caught her in those huge piano master hands of his and set her gently on her feet. A thrill of excitement sizzled through her as Corrie fought for breath. She hoped he'd interpret her breathlessness as due to her dash upstairs and not the fact that he was caressing her bare arms with his long, sensuous fingers. She looked up into his unfathomable, blue eyes and searched for answers — any answers. But then, she realized, she didn't know the questions.
She shrugged his hands away, grieving instantly at the loss of his touch. "Thanks. I'm all right," she murmured, though her heart still pounded hard enough to rattle her rib cage. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to clue me in on what I'm looking for?"
Ben's mouth twitched as if he were trying to suppress a smile. "You'll know when you see it." He reached for her hand again and tugged. "Come on."
With no recourse but to follow, Corrie let him lead her down the gallery walk. It had never occurred to her how spooky the place could be at night. The electric wall sconces cast long and sinister shadows within their circles of bright light, and there were still dark spaces where the bright orbs of light didn't reach. She made a mental note to add more lights, or at least change the bulbs to higher wattages.
She shivered as they neared the Magnolia Room. It was bad enough that the man had convinced her that Ham and Cory really were lingering in the house. Did he have to make her so spooked that she imagined specters in chains lurking in every nook?
Ben pushed against his half-opened door, and it swung slowly open letting welcome light come spilling out into the corridor. Half-expecting the squeak of rusty hinges, Corrie felt vaguely disappointed that the door had opened so quietly.
"Go in. Take a look." Ben nudged at the small of her back, urging her to step forward.
Feeling like Anne Boleyn on the way to the executioner, she managed a few, hesitant steps into the brightly lit room.
The fact that the lights were on and the room was so well lit should have reassured her, but all Corrie could think of was the dark hallway and every horror film — not that there'd been that many — she'd ever seen.
Thank goodness for Ben's large and reassuring presence behind her. Corrie glanced over her shoulder at him. He smiled, and she managed a wan one of her own. Then she turned and made a brief survey of the room. She faltered as her gaze focused on the slightly rumpled bed, but she forced herself to move on.
"The water jug is missing," she noticed. Had someone been in the inn? And how had she not noticed their being here? She remembered the portable earphones. They were going to the Salvation Army first thing in the morning, she vowed.
Ben nudged her. "Look at the rug."
Corrie dragged her gaze from the empty washbowl to the Oriental rug in the center of the open floor. How had she missed that when she came in?
She bent to examine the broken pieces of china that had been a pitcher only a short time before. The spot on the carpet was too far from the wash stand for Ben to have knocked the pitcher over — and too close for it to have been thrown, for that matter. She picked up the larger pieces and stood. "Who could have done this?" She looked back toward Ben.
Ben raised an eyebrow. "Ham or Cory, I suspect."
A chill ran through Corrie, though why she was surprised, she didn't know. She willed herself to be calm. "I'll get the vacuum and clean the rest of this up," she stammered.
She didn't know what else to do.
If ghosts were going to be tossing around china, they could injure one of her guests. Maybe she'd have to rethink this bed and breakfast plan before she got in too deep.
Clutching the larger pieces of pitcher to her chest, she hurried away.
****
With puzzled amusement, Ben watched her go. For a woman who claimed to be above believing in ghosts, she had definitely been spooked by something she didn't believe in.
He looked around the room, searching for ghostly inhabitants. Well, he may have seen Cory, but that was beside the point. "Ham," he announced to the quiet room. "I'm glad to know you're here, but you're spooking Corrie. Try to be a little more careful."
Ben wondered what his ghostly hosts thought of his request.
"Did you say something to me?"
Ben spun around, feeling sheepish at being caught speaking to thin air. He knew that Ham and Cory Jordan were around somewhere, but he wasn't sure how Corrie Wallace would feel about it. "I was thinking out loud."
Corrie smiled wanly. "I see. It's an absent-minded professor thing."
"Yeah." Let her think that. Then he noticed that she carried a small vacuum cleaner in her hand. It reminded him of a movie he'd seen a long time ago where a team of ghost hunters used what resembled household appliances to rid places of ghosts. "I see you have your spirit-eradication equipment," he commented dryly.
Corrie looked up at him, confusion on her face. Then remembrance must have dawned. "Oh. The old movie." She grinned, casting the tint of fear that had dimmed her green eyes to the shade of a storm-tossed sea. "No. Just dust-eradication equipment." She stooped and ran the contraption over the rug, sucking up the remainder of the broken china.
Ben watched Corrie's studied concentration as she ran the portable machine back and forth over the ca
rpet. He wondered if her purposeful, mechanical movements had anything to do with him. Or was she always that thorough?
She stood up and dusted symbolic dirt from her hands. "There. Now I won't have to worry about you stepping on anything and cutting yourself." Corrie turned to leave.
Ben caught her arm and was shocked by the jolt of current that passed between them at his touch. He looked down and found that it couldn't be attributed to static from the carpet; he was standing on bare wood. Had she felt it too?
He swallowed, wondering what to say now that he had her. Was this the right time or place to bring up the subject that had been eating at him since this morning? "Corrie?" His voice came out in a raw croak.
"Yes," she answered, her voice little more than a tremulous and breathy whisper. She looked down then, but Ben had seen the naked desire in her eyes that she'd tried to hide.
Ben forced himself to ignore his insistent need. Yes, he knew that his mind and his body were in complete agreement, but he still wasn't certain that Corrie was.
He cleared his throat. "About that misunderstanding we had this morning…"
Chapter Seven
Corrie's eyes cut to the rumpled spread on the four-poster bed and then back to Ben, standing so handsome and tall in the center of what amounted to his bedroom. She, too, had wanted to discuss that hasty decision, but she hadn't imagined doing it here. She started to answer him, but her words and courage — and breath — caught in her throat.
Clutching the vacuum duster as if it were a piece of body armor, she backed away, retreating until she encountered the solid wood of the door frame. The impact loosened her trapped breath with a whoosh. And that loosened her tongue.
"I agree." She faltered then. "I do think we need to reassess our rash decision." She glanced around the room, letting her gaze again linger on the mussed bed. "But not here."
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