Montgomery Manor (The Haunted Book 2) Page 2

  Evan pinned her with his gaze.

  Meg couldn’t shake off the cold sense of vulnerability that sent a shiver up her back. She didn’t like an unknown admirer sending her flowers. Wasn’t that what stalkers did in movies? It was easier to think the roses were from Quint.

  She turned and moved down nearest different aisle, looking for the right place for the new book.

  “You’re nervous about tonight, aren’t you?” Evan followed her.

  “Yes, I am. Wouldn’t you be?” She hated that he could read her like the many books in her shop.

  “Probably.”

  “I’m nervous for Quint. He wants, so much, for this to be a success.”

  “I’m sure it will be great.”

  “The place is just so big.”

  “Yes, but that and the mystery and the idea of maybe seeing a ghost or two, as well as good food and lots to drink, will draw a crowd.”

  Meg set the book on the shelf. “True. You’re coming tonight, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “I still can’t believe Quint and I kept that huge old place. Can you believe it’s got twenty-seven bedrooms and nine different sitting rooms? Who even needs twenty-seven bedrooms?”

  “Joshua Montgomery, and Quint Falkner.” Evan intoned.

  “But Joshua Montgomery never used all of them. In fact, I think he only used one. And even though I know most of Quint’s plans, despite the fact he won’t let me see anything yet, I don’t know if we’ll ever get around to using all of them either.”

  “You don’t think you’ll have twenty-seven kids?”

  Meg grinned at Evan’s teasing tone. “I’m pretty sure I won’t. And don’t bring up ghosts anymore, either.” She purposely changed the subject; the thought of kids touched an empty place in her heart. She and Quint were never alone long enough to kiss let alone try to start a family, and it never seemed to be the right time. Her clock continued to tick.

  Evan shrugged. “Joshua Montgomery’s wife was murdered in the cellar, you know?”

  “Of course I know. Everyone down the Coast probably knows the story of her being stabbed to death and him hanging for her murder.”

  “Is Quint planning to incorporate anything about that or anything else about the house’s history in his opening night?” Evan asked.

  “Quint hasn’t told me a thing. He’s come home every night and all but fallen into bed. I’m hoping he can slow down after this grand opening. But, I think this has been really good for him. He’s different.”

  “Different how, is he possessed by one of the ghosts that haunt that place?” Evan had his back to her, straightening a few books on a nearby shelf.

  Meg thought, he must be teasing again, but there was little laughter in his voice. She pulled a book from a nearby shelf, thinking she needed to place it on the display counter. “Very funny,” she tsked. “Seriously, in the little time I’ve seen him over the past months, he’s just different. I don’t know how exactly. There’s something about his eyes, about the way he looks at things…the way he looks at me.”

  He turned and met her gaze. “How does he look at you?”

  The chimes above the door rang to signal a customer’s arrival. She looked up and stared at the man walking into her shop. It was Quint. At least she thought he was Quint.

  “Like that,” she said, more to herself than to Evan.

  The man who entered her shop looked like Quint; he had the same dark hair, the same sharp features, the same fiery blue eyes, and the same six-foot muscular build that came from years of working construction. His deep, hard gaze never left her as he walked past the shelves of books toward her, his body moving with the same easy gait he’d always had. Yes, he was her husband.

  Wasn’t he?

  His gaze caressed her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, undressing her with his eyes, seeing into the deep ocean of her soul. He looked like he wanted to devour her.

  He held her bound with his unyielding look, and her heart pounded in her chest.

  His expression was hungry, but his eyes said so much more. There was a look of excitement, as well as an anxious bearing of waiting, wanting, knowing. His dark twilight eyes lit with a savage, proud, inner fire that all but reached out and held her in place, a look that saw right into her, and read all her thoughts, her dreams, and her desires.

  Meg forgot about the book in her hands.

  She recognized that searching, intense, now-familiar look in his eyes. He might be exhausted when he came home late at night, but his fatigue never overshadowed the expression of need and hunger. Even though he was often too tired to act on it.

  Now, in the light of the late morning, the look left her feeling naked and vulnerable, loved and desired and wanted and scared, all at the same time. Her heart felt as though it doubled in size, trying to choke her.

  He’d come home each night with a strange, new look of desire. With her schedule at the shop, all her books to keep her busy, and Quint spending most of his time at the Manor, they weren’t even together long enough to complain at one another. He rose with the sun and came home after dark, as she did.

  She missed him.

  Quint’s intense focus never left her, and they could be alone in the world for all she knew, in a place just for the two of them.

  Maybe Quint missed her, too. At least she hoped he had.

  “Hello, Evan.” Quint looked to Evan, but it was nothing more than a quick glance.

  “How’s it going, Quint? How are things up there at the Manor?” He and Quint shook hands.

  “Good.”

  “Meg and I were just talking about that place. Have you seen any ghosts?”

  Quint turned his attention back to Meg before answering, “Not lately.”

  She wanted to ask if that meant he had seen ghosts in the past. Also, she made a mental note to ask Evan if he noticed anything different about Quint, but not until the man in question had left. Quint was there, mere feet away, close enough to reach out and take her hand. If he wanted to. And she very much wanted him to. She wanted to touch him now more than ever. Her lips tingled with the need for a real kiss. She licked them, her memory of the taste of his lips fighting to resurface.

  She felt her husband’s allure, like the heat of a fire on a cold night. It bound her, immobilizing her, snatching the breath from her lungs. He was her husband, the same man she’d vowed to love, honor, and cherish for the rest of her life. The man who’d grown to be so familiar to her. He was the same man who had come home night after night and slid into bed beside her.

  He’d changed, but she couldn’t figure out why that caused her blood to rush through her as if she’d just met his gaze from across a crowded room.

  She threw an inquisitive glance at Evan, but he didn’t seem entranced by Quint as she was.

  In fact, he reached out and took the book she still held. “I’ll find a better place for this.” He turned and glided out of sight.

  She and Quint were alone.

  She fought back a sigh and finally took the time to register what Quint was wearing. He wore black pleated slacks, a crisp white shirt, and a black jacket. He looked prepared, sharp, eager, and maybe even just a little dark and dangerous. He looked as far from the construction worker he usually embodied as he could be. And he didn’t look anything like the man who came home exhausted and dusty and grubby night after night for the past two months.

  For a long moment, uncertainty held her tongue. She ached to move closer to him, as something about him commanded her to do.

  Or should she run in the other direction? She wanted to push aside Evan’s outlandish idea that Quint was possessed by the ghost or a spirit that haunted the house they now owned.

  Then, he grinned, and suddenly he was the Quint she’d known in college, the same man who smiled and asked her if she’d spend the rest of her life with him.

  His smile cut through the haunted sensation that wavered through her, and she relaxed, but only a
little. As if he commanded her without speaking, she stepped closer. He took her hand into his warm and dry and callused one.

  It all but swallowed hers.

  His grip was familiar and made her feel like he wasn’t going to let her go any time soon.

  “You must be swamped with last-minute things to do for tonight. What are you doing here?” Meg tried to make her question sound light and casual, even though Quint seldom came into her shop.

  “I just had to see you. Are you excited about tonight, Meggie girl?”

  She hesitated, then smiled. The nickname he’d given her when they were dating eased the tension. “Yes, I think so. And you look so nice.”

  It was a polite way to tell him she liked seeing him in something other dust-covered work clothes.

  “Thanks. I wanted you to see me so you can tell me if you think this is appropriate for tonight. I wanted to look comfortable, but dressy at the same time. And I know this is a far cry from the work clothes I usually wear. But I thought if I was going to start playing host, I should look like a host, and not one of the hired help.”

  His hand in hers was so simple, nothing more than a familiar touch. And yet there was more, something close to an electrical current that flowed from Quint’s hand and up her arm. A few short seconds beat out in unison with her heart.

  She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “I think you look perfect.”

  “You’re not just telling me that to boost my ego, are you?”

  “Of course not. But I think you should’ve gotten a haircut.”

  Quint ran his fingers through his hair and grinned at her. “I kind of like it longer. It seems to fit in with the style of house.”

  Meg raised her brows. “Do you want to fit in with the style of the house?”

  How odd.

  “Perhaps.” He shrugged. “However, whether I do or not, you’re going to love it tonight, I promise. Everyone’s going to love it. It’s so much more than just a restaurant attached to a moldy old house.” Meg loved hearing the excitement in his voice. It eased some of her fears she had about the huge project as well as the prospect of a ghost or two.

  “You’re certain?” She smiled. Why did this feel like a dream? Why did she feel like she was watching everything through someone else’s eyes? She still couldn’t believe that such a huge piece of property landed in their laps so…unexpectedly.

  “Yes, really.” His words were still full of exhilaration, that fire growing stronger in the sparkling depths of his eyes. He drew her close, “I’ll let you in on some of the secret,” he whispered into her ear. “Tonight’s going to be a simple open house—lots of food, lots of drink, and tours of the new rooms we’re opening. Then, everyone who attends will get the chance to sign up for a murder mystery dinner, as well as take a turn around the newly polished ballroom. Before long, we’ll be booking that room. Won’t that be great?”

  Meg chuckled. “There’s no one here. You don’t need to whisper if you want to keep all this a secret. And all that sounds fun, but not really very simple.”

  “I just needed to hold you close,” he continued to whisper before he kissed her throat.

  Meg drew in a breath of his intoxicating aftershave mixed with the rich, familiar scent of man, and couldn’t help but smile. “I always knew you were good with your hands and making brilliant plans, but I never knew you were this creative. I always knew, however you made it, it would be great. I’ve never known you to build anything that wasn’t perfect. Put me down as the first to sign up for the mystery dinner.”

  “Wonderful. Thanks, Meggie.”

  She wanted to mention the roses then, and ask him if he had any idea who might have sent them, but his kiss captured her attention. His lips were hard and urgent, filled with need and longing, and she forgot all about the roses.

  His mouth, warm and perfect, sent a burning tingle of longing through her. Had it been mere moments before when she’d longed for a kiss and had even considered taking Evan up on his offer of one? And if Quint had somehow known of that need, he was there to fulfill it. He could have just as easily reached in to her chest and squeezed her heart in the palm of his hand.

  Her husband was back. There in her bookstore, where Evan could see them, where a customer could walk in at any moment, he teased her with the hot pressure of his mouth, the slight tickle of his tongue.

  No, wait. This wasn’t her husband. This could not be her husband. Her husband rarely came into her shop and never believed in public displays of affection.

  She would have grinned had her lips not been busy.

  If this was not her husband, she planned to keep him anyway.

  Her senses whirled with the taste of mint and Quint, leaving her knees weak, and her soul uncertain.

  Public or not, how long had it been since he’d kissed her with such overwhelming passion? She couldn’t remember. She broke away. She fought to draw in a breath, but even that didn’t ease the racing of her heart or the desire she felt in her lower belly.

  She couldn’t help but feel like she’d flown back in time, back to when she was in college and he in trade school, before they were caught in the easy familiarity of marriage and work and budgets and the hectic rat race that was life. Suddenly, she was younger, even though she wasn’t all that old, young enough that the relationship was still new and exciting, when every kiss was meant to last an eternity.

  When had those kisses ended? Meg couldn’t remember, but she just knew they were lost beneath the business of everyday life and work.

  Quint let her break the breath-stealing kiss, but he still held her hands, refusing to let them go. “I thought we could have lunch and celebrate before we get all caught up in the excitement of the evening.”

  Again, his words were warm in her ear. His breath, his touch, the feel of him down the entire length of her body, sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

  She smiled again. Yet, a twinge of uncertainty slivered up her spine. “Celebrate? We’re celebrating tonight.”

  Her lower stomach felt tight like taut bowstring. She couldn’t remember the last time they were this close. She wasn’t even sure if she knew this stranger of a husband. But she liked him. She wondered if he could feel the way her breasts pressed against his chest.

  The sparkle in his eyes brightened. “First, I want to celebrate with you. Alone.”

  A shiver of anticipation ran through her with each word. And for a moment, she had the strange feeling he might lower her to the floor amongst the bookshelves and make love to her there.

  “Where?” She forced out the single word, and forced in a breath.

  “At home, in our bed.” He whispered, his breath hot and sensual against her ear.

  His invitation grabbed her and held her with the pull of an electrical current.

  “I’ve missed you these past months. I’ve been working a lot, and I want to make it up to you. Besides, we’ve never had lunch in bed, have we, Meggie girl?”

  That did it. The way he whispered, “Meggie girl,” was all it took to send her over the edge of desire and need. It had been so long since Quint had held her and touched her, so long since they’d devoted some time to one another and their marriage.

  “Let me tell Evan I’m taking an early lunch.” Her words were little more than whispered breaths.

  “All right.” He agreed, but it was only after another long moment that he released her. She turned from her husband to hunt down her assistant.

  The chime of the bell on the door indicated the arrival of a customer, and Meg looked at the newcomer, uncertain if she was grateful for the interruption or not. Her legs were weak and shaky from Quint’s kiss, and she needed to get control of herself until they were alone.

  Melanie Wirthington walked to the counter with purposeful strides. “Melanie,” Meg greeted her, hoping her smile didn’t appear forced or that the fire Quint ignited in her wasn’t evident in her expression. It felt like her cheeks were burning. “You’re here for the Shake
speare.”

  “That’s right,” Melanie smiled and revealed a mouth full of perfect teeth.

  Melanie looked at Quint then gave a double take. “Quint?”

  His smile was relaxed. “I guess you’re not used to seeing me dressed like this.”

  She chuckled. “I guess I’m not used to seeing you without dust in your hair.”

  Meg looked from Melanie to Quint. “You two know each other?”

  “Melanie’s an employee at the Manor,” Quint explained.

  That made her one of Quint’s employees, but Meg noticed how he hadn’t phrased it like that.

  Melanie’s smile grew. “Yes, and I didn’t realize you two were—” she stopped, uncertainty marring her features.

  “Married,” Quint supplied. “Meg is my wife. I don’t think you were there the day I brought her around to see the place.”

  Melanie looked at Meg, her face creased with a smile the size of the Grand Canyon. “I’ve been buying your books since you opened this shop, and I never knew your last name. Just wait until you see what he’s done with the Manor. It’s so much grander than before, and I can hardly wait for work tonight.” Her face lit up.

  Meg smiled. She hoped all Quint’s employees enjoyed working for him as much as Melanie did. “Then I look forward to seeing you again tonight. I’ll have my assistant, Evan, take care of getting your book for you, if that’s all right.”

  “That will be fine.”

  Meg looked for Evan. She was pretty certain Melanie didn’t mind having Evan’s attention at all.

  She searched the aisles quickly because she didn’t want to leave Quint, not even for a moment. In fact, she was afraid to even take her eyes off of him for fear that he would change back to being the distant, overworked man he’d been the last few months. She was terrified that if she stopped watching him, he would change his mind about having lunch in bed. Or worse, that she would wake up and discover his kiss and his invitation were all nothing but a dream.

  She found Evan in the third aisle. “I’m leaving for lunch. Can you come and help Melanie Wirthington?”

  Evan quirked a brow at her, as though he knew where she would be spending lunch.