“That’s right! I read that the Fountain family owned a pineapple plantation on the beach.”
“Good luck finding pineapples over there now.”
“That’s a little sad, isn’t it? I want to take this book home. Maybe it’ll tell me exactly what the roses are out there.”
“Good idea,” Landon said. “Should we leave the rest here?”
“Might as well. The historical society might be interested. If we show them we care about the history, maybe they’ll stop calling me every three days to make sure I’m not going to knock down the house.”
Landon chuckled. “That Motebarkle guy, right?”
“He means well.”
Full of soft light, Landon’s gaze held mine as the golden hour took shape outside the big windows. “Are you disappointed?”
I got lost in those deep brown eyes for a moment.
“Not at all,” I said, not at all sure I was talking about the closet and the books. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He slipped the correct key off the ring and slid it into my hand. The feel of his rough skin against mine shot goosebumps up my arm. “You’d better hang on to this.”
Chapter 14
I put the skeleton key on my keychain more for good luck than anything. And maybe because touching it made me think of things — of someone — I really shouldn’t be thinking of.
It wasn’t like I’d need the key anytime soon, though we relocked the closet to keep snoopers out. We had way too many renovations to think about for me to waste time researching the strange closet.
While Landon worked miracles with the city’s building department and his crews of Known Guys to get the renovation and event permits we would need, I spent an afternoon editing together a promo video from our friends’ visit to the house. It was a teaser more than anything, with judicious cuts that implied more than it showed. I combined slow-motion glimpses of blurry figures, dilapidated rooms, spooky staircases and creepy shadows with light effects, a dash of scary music and one of Thea’s amazing screams. It concluded with effects-laden titles: MILKWEED MANSION unlocked … experience Bohemia’s original haunted house! I included the dates and a web address at the end for a quickie site Thea and Cali had agreed to put together. October was less than a week away, and we wanted to announce everything on the first of the month.
And I was freaking out just a tiny bit. Landon and his peeps were a massive help, but my bank account was dwindling anyway. I had to put enough aside for the basics of living, and I’d received my last paycheck. Plus I kept having to dole out money for supplies, or pizza for the helpers, or any number of little emergencies.
Tuesday evening, Landon was watching some sort of football analysis show from the couch — hey, it beat politics — while I sat in the easy chair and stared at my credit-card balances and bank account on my laptop. As I willed one set of numbers to go down and the other to go up, I realized he was calling my name.
“Kayla? Is something wrong?”
I looked at him bleary-eyed and saw my fatigue reflected in his handsome face. It wasn’t just work on the mansion wearing him out. I knew he’d also been popping in to help on jobs with his dad’s company, even though his father had pretty much given him carte blanche to help with the house. I didn’t understand why, but I was grateful.
“I just don’t think I can handle this alone,” I admitted to him. I could have put on a brave face, but I was just too damn tired.
“You’re not,” he said with a small smile.
“No, I’m not, thanks to you and everyone else. But there are still expenses. We can’t get everything donated. Permitting fees … the electrician’s supplies … paint for the whole house … ”
“That’ll come later, and anyway, I think I know … ”
“You know a guy?”
“A girl, actually. I mean a woman. She owns a paint company on U.S. 1. I think she’d love to be on the plaque.”
I was so tired, I didn’t even worry about whether this paint lady was just a friend or a passionate paramour. And I’d been thinking a lot along those lines lately, when the last thing I wanted was to be jealous about Landon.
“It just feels weird to take all this money,” I said, “and I am paying you rent. There are no two ways about that.”
“It’s OK, Kayla. You can pay me rent if you want to.” He flashed me the Fireworks.
I couldn’t help a pathetic little laugh. “Easy for you to say.”
He looked thoughtful. “Why not reconsider Alex’s offer to invest? He’s jazzed about the event space, and he loves supporting local art and history. This is right up his alley.”
“I don’t know. It feels like taking charity. And what if he wants control?” Because even though I’d been reluctant to take the project on, the idea of running the business had grown on me. As Landon had suggested, it was mine.
“That’s what contracts are for,” Landon said. “And believe me, it won’t be charity. He has a nose for profit. Not that you don’t have any business sense — ”
“It’s not my strong suit. Yet.”
“I’m just saying he has a gift for picking projects that work and turning around projects that don’t. And I didn’t want to bring it up, but if you need more money, my dad was feeling me out about investing, too.”
“Really? What would he get out of it?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Landon said. “The plaque?”
I chuckled. “I’m sure that’s it.” I wasn’t convinced yet that an investor was a solution, but my burden felt a little lighter just talking to Landon. “OK. I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Now put down the computer and come over here.”
I wrinkled my brow at him. “Why?”
“Why so suspicious? Because you need to relax, that’s why.”
Every molecule in my body pulled me toward the couch. It was like I was a meteor and the couch was the black hole. Only it had this glowing light at the center. Fireworks.
I closed my laptop, set it on the coffee table and sank with a sigh into the cushions next to Landon.
“Here,” he said. “Turn your back to me.”
“What?”
“Trust me. I don’t bite.”
What if I want you to? was on the tip of my tongue. Which I bit to keep it quiet. I turned sidesaddle on the couch, and he touched my shoulders lightly, caressing them through my T-shirt. I knew this was innocent, a little massage between friends, but every cell he touched lit up like pegs in a Lite Brite. His touch became more deliberate, more delicious, until he was digging into the rigid muscles like a pro, rubbing away my worries with his fingers in slow, circular, magical motions.
I hadn’t realized just how much I ached until the tension started to melt away under his skilled touch, until he dug deeper and massaged the base of my neck and the center of my back. My head drooped, and I groaned.
Oh, shit.
In response to my guttural sound of pleasure, Landon made a noise at the back of his throat and shifted slightly behind me. What must he think? That I was totally turned on and just waiting for him to jump my bones?
Because let’s face it. That’s exactly what I was thinking.
He smelled like his soap, that cedar-citrus aroma, like a forest studded with lime trees. Enhanced by the warmth of his body, which suddenly seemed closer and warmer than ever, the scent was completely intoxicating. Before I even realized what I was doing, my body was drifting back against him — whether in a sleepy dream or completely awake arousal, I couldn’t testify — and his hands slipped down from my shoulders to curl around my waist.
He didn’t say anything. But his warm breath against my neck set every nerve on fire. My nerves were like those little plastic players in that old electric football game, buzzing and vibrating and going every which way.
“Landon?” I whispered.
His arms drew me closer against him, against every hard angle of his body, including one particular angle as hard as a two-by-four (a
nd possibly as large, given its prominence). His warm lips brushed against the skin under my right ear, and my senses exploded.
An unsteady musical breath skirled out of me and up to the stars as I leaned my head sideways to give him access. He took my invitation, laying open-mouthed kisses against my skin there, licking the delicate shell of my ear, tugging at it with his teeth. Molten heat shot right to my honeybun.
What am I doing? I was scared shitless. I was in too deep. I was loving it.
He deftly turned me, lifted me so I was in his lap. His eyes were hooded, and I closed mine as I leaned in close, in denial that this was happening, wanting so much more. He grasped my face with both hands and crushed his lips to mine.
Holy leaping narwhals! My mouth blazed like a sparkler on a birthday cake, all hot flecks of light and butter and sugar. I opened to his tongue, moaning again, and this time he growled in answer as he slid one hand up my waist, under the soft cotton of the tee. He traced the lower curve of my breast with one finger so slowly I thought I’d scream. I had de-bra’d as soon as I’d had my shower, of course, because we were platonic roommates, for God’s sake! And now my nipples tingled, turning diamond hard as his tantalizing, rough fingers inched closer to the aching peaks.
And that’s when I came to my senses and pushed him away. Only he didn’t move, and my push ended up toppling me off his lap and onto my ass on the floor.
“Ouch.”
“Kayla, are you all right?” was Landon’s first reaction, though it was more than concern I saw in his face. He was flushed and breathing hard. I resisted looking farther down, except I couldn’t help myself, and then I snapped my gaze back up to his, trying not to think of that big beautiful thing he was hiding in his shorts.
“I’m fine,” I croaked, scrambling up and stepping back.
“Are — are you sure? Come back here and take it easy.”
“No. No, I can’t do that. We shouldn’t do this.”
“It’s totally natural, Kayla.”
“Duh, I know sex is natural!”
He let out a little laugh. “Yeah, but what I mean is, we’ve been spending all this time together, and I like — I like working with you. It’s natural we should have a little attraction, right?”
A little attraction? I’d been ready to let his rocket ship blast into my spiral galaxy.
“This is a bad idea. We’re working together.” And I don’t want to be another notch on the virtual Landon bedpost.
Yes, I do.
No, you don’t.
“Oh, shut up. I mean, me, me! Me shut up. I need to shut up and go to bed,” I said. He looked confused and — hurt? Was he hurt?
“We’re not working together like employees. We’re working together like — like friends,” he said.
Yeah. Friends. Somehow that word stabbed a dart into my heart. “Landon, you’re the best — I mean, that was fantastic, but I have a meeting in the morning. I’ll talk to you later.”
And I grabbed my laptop, retreated to my bedroom and slammed the door, feeling like a complete idiot.
A completely horny chicken-shit idiot who wanted to fuck Landon until the ghosts rose from their graves.
Chapter 15
My cowardly behavior continued the next morning, when I did my routine in the bathroom before Landon woke up, then hid in my bedroom, getting ready for my appointment with Marla the marketer, until he left the apartment. I just wasn’t ready to face him after our close encounter the night before. How was I going to work with him every day? And how awkward would our Back to the Future Nacho Day date be now?
I checked my email over coffee before I headed out and saw Marla had sent me something. It was the link to Max’s reel, the one that had all but nailed the video marketing job for him. It irked me that someone who was such a prick was getting the exact job I wanted, but I couldn’t help looking at it before I left the house.
I had to admit, it was slick. Most of the clips were from other counties in Florida. He must’ve been doing work for a few years to get these kinds of shots — hot-air balloons, horseback riding with cowboys, a rainbow over shells on the beach, shoppers, divers, glass blowers, outdoor dining, the usual kinds of tourism things. There were even some sexy drone shots of tourist spots. Maybe he’d been an intern somewhere? Because I sure didn’t know his name before now, and I’d done a lot of networking with my classmates and other video and TV people when I worked in Orlando.
I shot the link to a couple of the people I’d been in grad school with and a teacher I really trusted to see if they’d heard of him. Maybe I needed to work at the same places Junior had. I could use this kind of video under my belt if I wanted to throw myself into video marketing … especially since Hollywood was off the table thanks to my asshole ex-boss/ex-seducer.
I sighed and finished my coffee. It wasn’t the time to beat myself up. It was time to enlist Bohemia’s help in marketing the haunted house.
My Toyota grumbled but cranked up as usual, and I made it to downtown in about fifteen minutes. Though we lived in an unremarkable apartment complex away from the historic downtown, I had ambitions to live closer to this thriving hive of art and commerce. In a mansion? Too soon to say, but I loved being near the Bohemia School of Art and Design, galleries like Cali and Wyatt’s, great bars and restaurants. Bohemia had grown a lot since I was a kid here, and I really liked the energy of the place.
The tourism office wasn’t all that far from Milkweed Mansion. It took up one suite in a seven-story building south of the main causeway bridge that crossed the lagoon to Bohemia Beach.
I met Marla in the conference room. One wall was lined with big photos of the river, the beach, downtown Bohemia in Christmas lights, a nighttime rocket launch. Windows made up the opposite wall, and the view did not disappoint.
“Oh, Marla.” We’d been talking for thirty minutes about strategies for marketing the haunted house, and I kept looking out at the dazzling water. “I sure wish I could’ve worked here.”
“Actually,” she said as I turned back to her, “I kind of wish that, too, but I’m not in charge, and you have to understand that Max’s reel blew everyone away. Plus my boss was friends with his father … ” She blanched when she realized what she’d said; the gossip mill had wasted no time in revealing how I’d inherited the house from his father. My father. “Well, anyway, he didn’t even have to interview. I like you. I think you’d be great. And this haunted house promo video is terrific.”
“Thanks.” We’d hooked up my laptop to their network so she could roll my video on the big TV in the conference room. It was pretty damn good. “So you’ll run our press release up the flagpole?”
“Yes, and we should be able to get it approved and sent to the Bohemia Bugle, local radio and the Orlando TV stations on Friday afternoon, since October starts on Saturday. Will that work?”
“Sure,” I said, making a mental note to ask Thea and Cali to rush the website by one more day. If they were still talking to me when this was over, it’d be a miracle.
“Great,” Marla said. “I’m sure the TV folks will love covering a haunted house that’s not in a theme park, especially with this video to show.”
“I hope so.” I had my doubts, but getting curious Orlando tourists to come to our coast for our fundraiser would be great.
“I also asked the Bohemia Historical Society president to give me a quote on the historical significance of the place to put in the release, and he says he wants to do a piece about the house on his radio show.”
“Ken Motebarkle? Well, that’s cool,” I said, then noticed the funny look on Marla’s face. “What is it?”
“He doesn’t approve of the haunted house, but he says he’ll give me the quote to help save it. That said, I’m not really sure how nice his radio show is going to be.”
“Oh, good lord. One moment he’s calling me asking me not to knock it down, and the next he’s complaining because I’m not letting it fall down?”
She sighed. “He’d li
ke it to be a museum. I see his point, but this way it’ll sort of be living history that everyone can enjoy. Right?”
“Absolutely. Our goal is preservation, not obliteration. It’s not like it’ll be a haunted house all the time.” Except for the strange sounds and weird chills. “If the permits are approved, I promise I won’t turn it into a condo or a convenience store.”
She laughed. “You didn’t hear it from me, but you’re going to get some very good news on that front today, contingent on the house passing initial safety inspections. The mayor has lit the fire under everyone involved in this project. With her on the case, you basically have the blessings of the angels.”
“Really? That’s so — so nice.” To my embarrassment, tears welled in my eyes, and I wiped them away. “Damn it. Sorry. I’m just not used to people being so kind and helpful.”
She shrugged and smiled. “Just a suggestion, but it wouldn’t hurt to send the mayor and my boss tickets to the VIP opening.”
“And you! I’ll be glad to. With all the help you’re giving me, I’m hoping we’ll sell out.”
“You will,” she said warmly as she rose, smoothing her suit. It was time to go. “And stay in touch. The next time a job comes open here, I’ll make sure you’re at the top of the list.”
I left the meeting feeling a little better about our project, though I still didn’t know how I would pay for all of it. As I popped out of the elevator into the parking garage beneath the building, my phone started buzzing in my big bag, and I cursed and struggled as I dug past my laptop and all my junk, trying to get it. I didn’t even have time to register the caller ID before I gasped, “Hello?”
“Kayla! Glad I caught you.” Rick the CEO. “Remember I said I wanted to do some of those prototype dating interviews in the real world? Well, I need one ASAP for a surprise visit from one of our investors. Do you think you can get one done by Friday noon? I want to get it staged on the app. You have all the gear, right? I can pay you … ”
Bohemia Chills Page 9
