She stared at her image, scanned the entire glass for flaws and noted what objects behind her were being reflected. "I'm not sure what I'm looking for." She watched him move behind her and stare into the mirror over her head. He held her still by placing his hands on her shoulders. The effect such a simple touch had on her breathing was enough to make her forget why she was standing there.
"He's gone," he said, clearly disappointed.
Without moving, she raised her gaze to his face in the mirror. "He, who?"
"I don't know. But I definitely saw him. I was walking by the mirror and noticed it seemed a little foggy so I touched it to see if it was dirty or just really old and it cleared up but I didn't see myself in the glass." His words all ran together and his eyes were wide as he stared into the mirror. "I saw a man in the mirror, like maybe he was behind me, only when I turned around there was no one here. It was more like the mirror was a window and I was looking through it."
"Do you want me to call someone? Security?"
"No, no. Not yet anyway. I think I know what they'd say and I really don't want to hear about what anyone else has seen in this room until I'm ready to do my research."
"So, you're not... scared?" She tried not to sound as uncertain as she felt.
He gave her shoulders a squeeze. "Not at all. This kind of thing is exactly what I came here for." He gently moved her aside then ran his fingers over the mirror and its wood frame then inspected the back of the piece. Shaking his head in bewilderment, he added, "The weirdest part is it looked like he was in this room, buttoning his shirt in front of this mirror, but the bedspread and drapes were different. And..." He scanned the bedroom. "... there was wallpaper with big yellow flowers. And now that I think about it, there were suspenders hanging off the waist of his pants and there was something outdated about the shirt collar and cuffs. Like I was watching a scene from an old-time movie." He scratched his head and gave her a crooked grin. "I sound crazy."
"It sounds like you had a really vivid hallucination."
"I don't think so. It was something else." He made another pass over the entire mirror and stand. "You know, there are a lot of different beliefs and myths attached to mirrors, most having to do with the dead and undead."
"Undead? Like vampires not having a reflection? Puhleeze."
"Hey, don't make fun of the undead. I've made a very good living off them. But I'm thinking of ghosts, the spirits of dead people who didn't move on. One theory is that they can use mirrors to pass from place to place or even possess the living in order to resolve some issue. The possession of an average person by the ghost of a serial killer was one of the angles I was playing with for this next book. I must have been on the right track. Maybe the man I saw is one of those ghosts looking for resolution. Wow. That would sure confirm my picking the right hotel." He grasped her upper arms. "Oh my gawd. It could have been Robert Davenport himself!"
Maggie was a little concerned over how thrilled he seemed over the possibility of encountering a ghost. But his description of what he had seen and his comments about mirrors made her recall the strange daydream she'd had in the bathroom before he arrived. Before she could stop it, a shiver overtook her.
He noticed. "Are you okay?"
She forced a smile. "Sure. Just got a chill. Probably the AC kicked on."
He made a face at her. "You were never a good liar. You'd better tell me now if talking about the supernatural scares you because—"
"It was just a chill. Or maybe I'm hungry. You did offer me dinner before your little spook show started."
Chapter 4
Maggie wasn't completely surprised when they were immediately ushered into The Emerald Dome, Davenport's award-winning restaurant. Apparently the sign recommending advance reservations was not meant for the likes of Noah Nash. Being with someone important was almost like being someone special herself.
The second thing she noticed was the twenty-foot-high cascading waterfall in the middle of the room. Beneath the water was an enormous rock formation speckled with crystal shards and reflective silvery streaks. Around the base and along three of the walls were large prehistoric-looking ferns, flowering bird-of-paradise plants and orchids of every type and color. The fourth wall was all glass, allowing for a view of the beach. Tables of graduating sizes were arranged in rings around the base of the mountain.
Though the sun had not yet set, the glass dome panels were darkened to make it look like night had already fallen. Candles and twinkling overhead lights dangling like stars from invisible strings illuminated the overall interior. She assumed the panels would be cleared later for a view of the real night sky.
She had been penny-conscious for so long, it took a few minutes for him to convince her to ignore the prices on the menu and just order whatever sounded good. Unfortunately she didn't even know what half the items were and the prices were too inflated to ignore. "Umm, which of these would you suggest for a meat-and-potatoes gal?" she finally asked.
"Seriously? I thought you were all about adventure and trying things you were afraid of."
Giving a little shrug, she admitted, "I've never had enough money to throw it away on food I might not like."
"Understood," he said with a thoughtful nod. "I, on the other hand, consider food one of the extreme pleasures life has to offer. And in a restaurant of this caliber, I like to go with the chef's selection for the evening. I've rarely been disappointed that way and sometimes I'm surprised by something I've never tried."
"I like your reasoning. I'll have the same." According to the menu she had just selected chilled gazpacho with a dollop of lemony sour cream, the house salad spelled with an "e" on the end, lobster thermidor and wild rice with white truffles. She wasn't sure what a truffle was but it was clearly one of those foods she could never afford to find out if she liked.
Noah also ordered an additional bottle of wine that was not part of the chef's recommendation. There wasn't even a price shown for that.
As soon as the waiter left them, Maggie got the pad and pen out of her purse. "I'm ready whenever you are."
His brows raised. "You do know you're not on a time clock with me, right?"
"I was told to expect irregular hours, which is fine. I'm just anxious to find out what I'll be doing."
"That's fine, but there's no need to write anything down." He waited for her to put away her writing tools. "The first thing I want to do is explore. Get the feel of the whole place."
"I brought a book about the island's history and the bellman mentioned an informational notebook—"
"Did you read any of it?" he cut in with a concerned look.
"Not the notebook. But I did skim a little of the book."
"Okay. The walk-around is more effective when you use your senses rather than someone else's accounting of facts. A good story is more than just a plot and I'm expecting this place to trigger all sorts of ideas. At this point I don't want to know any more than I remember from my initial research."
"How can I help?"
"You'll walk with me, monitor my recorder and generally be there for me to bounce thoughts off of. And I'll want to hear anything you think of also. Hopefully we'll have a few more experiences like I just had in the room. That would be very cool."
"Cool?" she asked incredulously. "Are you sure you don't mean creepy?"
He chuckled. "Honey, when you're in my head, creepy is cool."
His casual endearment stirred a flutter in her tummy but the rest of his statement made her smile. He had always had a peculiar sense of humor. "Speaking of creepy-cool, there's something—"
Just then the sommelier came with Noah's requested wine and two dainty glasses. Conversation stopped for the tasting and pouring ritual. She knew very little about wine but it seemed to her this bottle was much smaller than the norm.
Noah held up his glass for a toast. "To fate."
"And synchronicity," she added and clinked her glass to his. She took a sip then a larger swallow. "Oh my, this is delicious.
I'm not much of a wine drinker but this could change my mind."
He grinned. "It's a limited ice wine from Germany. I thought you'd like it. The sweetness makes it more of a dessert wine and I'm sure the chef was horrified over my asking for it to be brought out first but I remember what a sweet tooth you had." He waited for her to have another taste. "You were about to tell me about something creepy..."
She took one more sip and carefully set down her glass. "I wasn't going to say anything. I mean, I really thought it was just my imagination but after what you think you saw, I'm not so sure."
He refilled her glass. "Even if it was your imagination, I want to hear it. Remember, I'm in the idea-gathering phase of this book. Anything could trigger the perfect plot twist. And I'm counting on you, as a non-author, non-horror fan, to come up with things that might never occur to me."
Her taste buds demanded another drink of the surprisingly quenching wine before she began. "Before you arrived, I was looking in the bathroom mirror and it got all cloudy."
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, fisted hands beneath his chin. "Did it seem to be moving or swirling?"
She blinked. "Now that you mention it, yes. But when I touched it, the glass cleared so I thought I was mistaken."
"Then what?"
"Then I saw, well, I'd call it a memory. Afterward I just figured I'd been daydreaming. I mean, I'd been thinking about a time in high school... and then it felt like I was actually there again." She didn't think it was necessary to tell him about the particular moment she'd been remembering or how it had affected her even before he'd arrived.
Their cold soups were served and she drained her glass. Since Noah had only refilled her little glass once, the down-turned bottle in the ice bucket confirmed that it was smaller than usual.
She watched the way Noah gently blended the thick white cream into the red vegetable concoction without clinking the spoon against the side of the small bowl and imitated his action. There was a confidence evident in his every move, so unlike the boy who had been her adolescent best friend. Again the first awkward kiss came to mind and her thoughts leapt to the experienced way his mouth had moved over hers in the suite, the way his fingers had trailed down her neck and—
"You're killing me here," Noah said with a chuckle. "Either taste the soup or finish what you were going to say."
She felt her cheeks flush and was glad for the dim lighting. "That was it. Cloudy then a clear vision of a memory but like I was actually there."
"Was I in it?" he asked quietly.
She delayed by tasting the soup and tried to focus on the spicy combination of flavors passing over her tongue. But his stare was insistent. "Yes. But that would make sense. You were arriving any minute and I was remembering... how we met."
He covered her hand with his and waited for her to look into his eyes. "When we met... or when we kissed?" His thumb moved back and forth over her wrist. When she didn't answer, he said, "Would it help if I confessed I've been remembering that kiss for the last eighteen years?"
She eased her hand back and sat up straight. "No. It wouldn't help at all." She exhaled heavily. "Okay, I need to say something. I don't understand. And I really need to understand if we're going to spend more than a few hours together. You make a living with words. I need you to explain to me, in very simple terms, what happened when you kissed me that first time. And what happened upstairs just now. And why, in all the years in between those two kisses, no other boy or man ever made me feel this way?"
"What way?" He cautiously reached for her hand and after a little flinch she allowed him to intertwine his fingers with hers. But when she didn't answer, he did it for her. "Satisfied and hungry at the same time? Feeling both vulnerable and powerful? Bewildered and certain? If you want it really simple, I'd say we have incredible chemistry together. What's so confusing about that?"
She squinted at him. "Are you kidding me? What good is incredible chemistry if one of the two people is..." She waved her free hand and shook her head.
"Is... what?"
He really didn't know what she was talking about. She tried to retrieve her hand but he held tight. She took a breath in and out before she whispered it. "Gay."
His jaw dropped and he stared at her as though she'd just grown another head. "Oh. I see. Then I guess I really do owe you an apology for that kiss upstairs. I remember you saying you didn't want a relationship with any of the boys in school, but it never occurred to me that you preferred being with your own gender."
She was momentarily silenced as the waiter brought their salades and fresh, warm rolls and took away their soup bowls. The aroma wafting off the bread made her mouth water but she had to make herself wait to taste because the sommelier had arrived with the bottle of white wine that had been recommended to complement the course.
As soon as they were alone again, Maggie leaned forward and said, "I wasn't referring to me."
"Well, it's not me, so who are we talking about?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Excuse me? Do you really think I didn't notice? We were practically inseparable back then."
He gave his head a quick shake. "Hold on. You think I'm gay? How in the world did you come to that conclusion?"
She squinted harder as though it would help her see the truth. "You never denied what those boys said about you. Not even to me. You certainly weren't anything like them or others I knew. You were sweet and thoughtful and we talked about feelings and philosophy and you even enjoyed shopping with me. You never once tried to kiss me let alone... you know. I figured it's why we got along so well. Plus, you never once got goofy over any of my girlfriends and some of them were really pretty. And your bio makes no mention of your marital status."
She watched a whole gamut of emotions pass over his face—curiosity, disbelief, comprehension, consideration and finally sincerity. He delayed his response by having some salad and a sip of the wine, so she did the same, then had one of the warm rolls while he spoke.
"First of all, my author bio is purposefully brief. There was no reason to mention that I was married... for one year, to a very nice woman named Alison. We met in college and got along well enough. She was exactly what I thought I wanted in a wife—someone who wanted to permanently settle down in one place, get involved in the community and be satisfied taking care of her home, husband and children."
She arched an eyebrow but took another bite of roll instead of questioning his thinking.
"I know. Old-fashioned concept. But after how I grew up, that's what I wanted. Unfortunately, as well as we got along and met each other's expectations of marriage, there was absolutely no passion and we weren't good enough friends to keep up a sham. Before our first anniversary, we both agreed our getting married had been a mistake and we amicably divorced. After that, there were a lot of women in my life, but none of them made me consider a second marriage."
He paused to have more salad and try a roll and, since she had no marriage of her own to mention, she sipped her wine as he continued.
"Secondly, I have a very close friend who is openly gay and he does have a few of the stereotypical traits you described. But I swear, I have never lusted after a member of my own sex. The only reason I never got 'goofy' over your friends was none of them were as pretty or smart or fun as you. It never occurred to me to declare myself to be more manly than I appeared."
He ran his hand through his hair and frowned as though he were searching for the words that would convince her to believe him. "Look, the deal we had gave me the opportunity to spend time with the prettiest girl in class and hold her close once in a while, even if it was just pretend. I was a scrawny, little sixteen-year-old with too many insecurities to mention. Of course I wanted more, but you held the pretend flag between us like it was a chastity belt. It never occurred to me to trespass and risk the good thing I had with you."
She gave herself a minute to decide what to say by finishing her salad. "I made an assumption based on appearances. I am sorry about th
at. I guess it just made everything easier for me to believe you were fine with our arrangement. And I can see why you wouldn't have pushed for more while we were in school, but after you left, you never answered my calls or letters. I figured you'd found new friends and forgot all about me that fast. I really was terribly hurt."
He snorted. "And you think I wasn't? I intended to write and tell you how I felt once we were settled again, but in the first long letter you wrote, you went on and on about some guy you'd met and, well, in those days, that was all it took to convince me to forget about you."
"Geez. Usually it's the boy who takes longer to mature. But I wasn't anywhere close to where you were back then. I was completely honest about not wanting a relationship. It was another couple years before I was even ready to try. Just so you know, I'm pretty sure I made up the guy I was talking about in that letter. I just wanted you to think I was having some fun without you."
The urge to confess everything he'd ever felt about her was almost uncontrollable, but before Noah could share all his secrets, the waiter arrived with the main course, the sommelier brought the accompanying wine, and Noah had a chance to come to his senses.
"Enough about what was or wasn't. Fate separated us for eighteen years. I believe there's got to be a good reason she brought us back together now. I'm glad we've cleared up the past and acknowledged that we have plenty of man-woman chemistry between us. But as long as we have work to do, I still think the old 'no kissing' rule should stand and, when we're not working, we should focus on getting reacquainted as adults."
She smiled with her whole face and he visibly relaxed. "I think that would be wonderful."
The meal truly was an unexpected treat, even the mysterious truffles. That, and a lot more wine than she normally consumed, had Maggie feeling delightfully relaxed.
In between bites, they kept the conversation extra light by comparing movies and television shows they were currently enjoying. After finishing half of the second bottle of wine and all of the third, they both turned down the offer of an after-dinner cordial.
Some Time Away (Lovers in Time Series, Book 3): Time Travel Romance Page 4
