A Ghost of a Clue

by Debra Doggett

  Rory stepped out the back door, thinking she would at least go and check on the person. She’d only gotten a few steps down the steep hillside when the pain hit her, and she couldn’t stifle the moan. Wave after wave of the deepest agony rolled over her as it radiated off the woman standing on the rocks. The pain felt endless. Rory sank to her knees under the weight of it. She breathed in and out slowly, working through the assault as she let her gaze wander out along the shoreline. The sound of her own moans must have carried out to the water for the woman turned her gaze toward the cottage.

  Rory let out a gasp as she saw her visitor was Margaret Vincent. For a moment their eyes met, and Rory saw sadness deeper than any she’d ever known shining out of Margaret’s tear-filled eyes. Margaret quickly masked the emotion with a glare in Rory’s direction. Before Rory could move, Margaret turned and scrambled back up the rocks and headed down the road.

  It took Rory a minute to collect herself. When she felt her legs could hold her again, she rose and carefully picked her way down to the shoreline. She wanted to walk by the water and send some healing energy out to the sprites and the water itself. The psychic residue of the kind of pain Margaret had been radiating would be a tremendous burden for the elementals. As she walked along she recited the simple cleansing ritual she’d written when she was a teenager. It had served her well for years, and she felt the last of the residue leave her own spirit as the words flowed out of her.

  Her gaze wandered along the shoreline as she let the sound of the waves wash away the last of Margaret’s pain. When she looked out toward the lighthouse, she almost let out another gasp. Travis stood among the rocks, his feet half in the water. He was shirtless, the sun glinting off the fire of his hair making him look like a true Viking warrior out for conquest, with his gaze focused out on the rolling waves. Rory’s mouth watered at the sight of him, and moisture gathered in other places as well. The picture he made standing there reminded her of one of those romance covers she’d seen in The Shucker’s Booktique. There was a whole line of them by a lady named Scarlette LaFlamme, and the covers were those they used to call bodice-rippers. Rory had never understood the term until now. As she stared at Travis standing there by the ocean looking like a barbarian conqueror come to claim his kingdom she thought, hell, I’d rip my own bodice off at a sight like that, along with whatever was left of his clothes. When he bent over to pick up something from the water, the sight of all those muscles rippling along his broad shoulders had Rory letting out a sigh.

  His jeans rode low on his hips as he reached over to pick the small vials out of the water, and Rory found herself wishing they would dip just a bit lower. Or maybe a lot lower. The rich tan of his back extended down to the waist of his jeans, and she wondered how far it went. There was some exploring she could get into, she thought, even as her inner voice encouraged her to walk away, just walk away. But today was a day for indulgence, so she ignored the warning and walked toward him instead.

  Travis must have heard her approach, for he turned as she drew near. When he saw her, he watched appreciatively as she made her way to his spot, and Rory felt grateful she didn’t have a bodice on cause she was sure she’d have ripped it right then. Still, it felt good to have a man look at her like that, like she was a meal and he was more than hungry. Then and there Rory decided that appreciation was a nice quality in a man.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” He grinned at her as he said it. “People are going to talk, you know.”

  She arched a brow at him. “According to you, I’m already the talk of the town. Besides, you’re kind of in my backyard.”

  “True.” He gazed out at the water lapping against the shoreline. “Although I’m not sure yard is the right term.”

  “People would probably object if I called it my ocean. And my pile of rocks just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

  “You’ve got me there. Whatever you call it, it’s beautiful. I love the fall the best.” He bent over to pick up the rest of his containers, reaching for his shirt as well. She thought he might have seen the hint of disappointment in her eyes, for there was a bit of a twinkle in his as he pulled it over his head. He offered her a hand as they headed back up the rocks.

  “So, Ms. DuMont, are you stalking me?”

  “I’m offended, Mr. Reed. I’ll have you know I majored in Stalking 101 back in high school. And I aced the class. If I were stalking you, it would never be this obvious.”

  “Good to know. I’ll have to start keeping a sharper eye on things going on around me then.”

  “You’ll never see me.”

  “That’s okay. I’m seeing you now, and it’s a welcome sight.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere, Reed. I’m a tougher nut than that to crack.”

  “So what kind of charm would it take to get me an offer of a bathroom to use to wash up a bit?”

  She looked over at him with a wicked smile. “Magic words. Does a scientist know any magic words?”

  “No magic words. We deal in formulas, and that’s a pretty common one. At least for any kid who had a mother like mine.” He took her hand to help her over the rocks, and Rory felt that hot tingle of energy again. This time it aimed for parts of her that were already pretty heated up. With a grin to match her own, Travis gave her a little bow.

  “Ms. DuMont, may I please have the use of your facilities? Your generosity would be much appreciated as I smell sort of like the ocean, but in its much less clean and crisp stages.”

  “I don’t know about magical, but those words conjure up the need to follow your visit to my bathroom with a thorough cleaning.”

  He laughed. “You provide the rag and the cleaner, and I’ll provide the rest.”

  They made their way up the slope and back to the cottage. Rory was struck by how easy it felt to walk along beside him. He set all her bells ringing in a freakishly sexual manner, but he also made her feel comfortable, a side effect that made no sense. Travis was fun, sure, but he was also sensible, logical and thoughtful. None of those were traits that had ever been applied to her. Maybe her mother was right when she said Rory spent too much time questioning things and not enough time just letting them be. After all, wasn’t that what she had come to Lobster Cove for, to learn to be herself and let go of struggling to be something she wasn’t?

  When they walked in the door, Travis sighed. She frowned over at him, but there was a big smile on his face as he looked around the room.

  “Ah, I haven’t been in here in years. From the looks of things, nothing’s changed.” He glanced over at her. “My mom used to bring Ms. Lorena some of her teas. I tagged along most of the time because it meant I got to play by the ocean.”

  Rory nodded. “That was what attracted Aunt Lorena to the cottage. She loved the sound of the ocean at night. It was always a kind of magical place for me. I never spent much time here as a kid. Aunt Lorena usually came to see us. My father wasn’t about to give up any of his vacation time to come all the way to Maine to see a woman he thought was a blight on the family name, so we never traveled to Maine to return the favor. When I got older, it seemed like I came when I needed a place to hide. Or to heal. It was good for that.”

  “There was a good woman who lived here. That’s what helped most I bet.”

  Rory looked over at him thoughtfully. “You’re right, although it makes me wonder how you know that. I can’t imagine you coming out very well arguing with Aunt Lorena about ghosts.” She nodded toward the hall. “I guess you know where the bathroom is if you’ve been in here before.”

  He put his containers down by the door before entering. “Your aunt was a woman of many interests. And you’re right; I would never have dared debate her on the ghost topic.” He took the towel Rory handed him. “I mentioned it one time as a very young, smart-ass kid, and she took my argument apart in thirty seconds. We learned to agree to disagree after a time.”

  “Now that sounds more like Aunt Lorena. She always said it was best to let people
find out things on their own. When they disagreed with her, she never doubted that if they really looked into things they would come around to her side of it.”

  “Confidence is an attractive trait in a woman.”

  He headed toward the bathroom, the towel thrown over one shoulder.

  Rory snorted. “You’re a rare man to think so.”

  Travis stopped and turned back to her. There was no grin on his face this time. “It is one of the most attractive traits a woman can have.”

  His tone was dead serious, and for a moment Rory just stared at him. Then his face split into a grin as he pulled the towel off his shoulder.

  “But you’re right, I am a rare man.”

  With that pronouncement, he strode out of the room.

  “That you are, Travis Reed,” Rory murmured. “That you are.”

  Chapter Four

  “All cleaned up.”

  Rory looked up as Travis came into the kitchen. She sniffed at him.

  “Well, the ocean aroma is gone. Can’t say that’s a bad thing.”

  “Your bathroom and I are both ready for company.”

  “Pull up a chair and I’ll get you a cup. You can celebrate with me.”

  “What are we celebrating? Whoa!” Travis gave a whistle as Rory placed the vanilla cake on the table in front of him. “Whatever it is, it must be important. That’s Bea’s vanilla cake.”

  “With raspberry filling.”

  “Yep, that’s it. So what happened to the woman whose standards only included making the logical choice for good nutrition?”

  “She did something amazing today.” It felt good to say it out loud. “And now she’s celebrating. Or rather we’re celebrating.” She handed Travis a plate and a fork, then sliced the cake in two.

  “A celebration? Now that I can get into. So exactly what amazing thing did you do today?”

  “I sold myself.”

  “Okay, not quite what I was expecting.”

  She laughed. “Me either. I was expecting to fall flat on my face, to end up sounding like a stammering fool and getting tossed out on my ass.”

  “Since we’re celebrating, I take it things didn’t go that way.”

  “No, they didn’t. As a matter of fact, they went the completely opposite direction from that scenario. And soon you, and everyone else in Lobster Cove, will be able to see the evidence of how well it went today.”

  “So there’s evidence, hmm?”

  “Well, it hasn’t happened yet, but should you by some chance wander into The Shucker’s Booktique three weeks from now, you will be enchanted by the beautiful prints for sale there. Prints by Lobster Cove’s newest local artist.”

  “Then I will have to make sure I wander in there three weeks from now. And my congratulations to our newest local artist. Willa has a good eye and a good head for business. She and Lon have done wonders with the place. Having your work there should be a plus when it comes to your sales.”

  “I certainly hope so. She seemed to know her business, and she plans on giving me some prime space on the endcaps. I was excited, once I got past the nerves.”

  “Nerves?”

  “I’ve spent the last eight years hiding away in a tiny back room, chained to my computer. People saw my work all the time but didn’t even know I existed. It wasn’t easy to walk in there cold and sell myself.”

  “But you did it. You succeeded. And now you have cake.”

  Rory lifted a fork in a salute. “And now I have cake.” She sighed as she swallowed the bite. “Luscious, sinfully delicious cake.”

  “That’s the best kind.” He gave her a look of sheer innocence. “Things that are sinfully delicious should be part of your life more often if one bite puts that kind of look on your face.”

  “I don’t run enough to burn off the calories from indulging any more often than I do.”

  “I know a few things that fall into the category of sinfully delicious that wouldn’t add any extra calories at all. As a matter of fact, the activities I’m thinking of burn off calories. You can trust me on that. I’m a scientist.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, it is. I can come over and show you sometime if you’d like.”

  Rory looked him up and down. “Now that’s an offer I’m going to have to give some serious thought to.” She grinned at him. “But you’re already coming back over here on Friday. Maybe we could do a demo then.”

  “With an audience of snotty kids standing around to critique me? Not hardly.”

  “What, a confident man like you? I can’t see why an audience would scare you off.”

  “Got nothing to do with confidence or being scared off. It’s that having an audience of pre-teen punks wouldn’t give the moment the ambiance it needs.” Travis winked at her. “When I get the chance to show you’re what you’re missing, Ms. DuMont, it’s going to be the right place at the right time.” He rose and took his plate to the sink. “And you think you’re the talk of the town now. It’ll be nothing compared to the rumors those little heathens would spread.”

  He walked back to the table, and Rory swore the temperature around her went up ten degrees.

  “Well, um, it sounds like your demo is pretty personal.” Rory was surprised she could get the words out at all with the images his words created all tangled up in her brain.

  “Yeah, it is.” The amusement was gone from his voice, replaced by a tone far more sensual. “Up close and personal.”

  She had been watching his face, which was the only excuse she could find for not noticing his hands move. Before she knew it, Travis had pulled her up from her chair and put his mouth on hers. The kiss took the breath right out of her, and the feel of that muscled chest against her breasts took the resistance right out of her. Any thought she had about stepping back fled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was all the response he needed. His tongue swept past her lips as he pulled her tight against him. She could taste the sweetness of the cake and the maleness of him as he claimed her mouth. It was a heady combination. Rory thought she might have moaned but it was too hard to hear anything over the roar in her ears. All too soon he pulled back, leaving the taste of him on her lips and a longing for more deep inside her. She steadied herself with a hand against the table.

  “I think you’re right. That’s probably something we should skip while your students are here.”

  “Another time, then.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then she licked her lips. A slow smile spread across his face as she did.

  “Um, as good as that…demo was, I don’t know if another time is a good idea. I feel it only fair to warn you that the whole dating, romance, sex thing…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m not really good at that.”

  “Oh? What part aren’t you good at ’cause I’m not seeing a problem so far?”

  “I’m not good at any of it. Things start off okay but somewhere around let’s-have-some-fun and it’s-time-to-get-serious, my romance train derails. Sometimes it’s even been known to crash and burn. There are no survivors when it does.”

  She kept her eyes off his face as she gathered up the plates and forks. No sense staring at what she was giving up.

  “No survivors, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She paused. “The whole relationship suffers a fatality. It’s not a pretty sight.”

  “Maybe you’ve just never gotten on the right train. Maybe your destination’s been wrong all those other times.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I think—”

  “Rory.” Travis moved up behind her, turning her to face him. “I’m really good at what I do.”

  She gave him a confused look, and he laughed.

  “Well, I’m good at that, too, but what I meant was I’m a good teacher. I believe in giving the learning process time.”

  “Oh. Well. Time is always a good thing.” Rory edged past him to take the dishes to the sink. Brushing up against him didn’t do wonders for her rattled hor
mones. “I guess if you want to take the time…”

  “I do.”

  Boy didn’t those words sound dangerous. Rory decided it was time to get off this path and onto a safer one.

  “Um, speaking of your students—”

  “Is that what we were doing?” Amusement bled back into his tone.

  “I’m sure they were mixed in there somewhere.”

  She turned to face him, hoping her cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt. “I was wondering about Friday. I thought I’d fix some food, maybe try out some of the recipes Jane gave me, but in case you haven’t guessed, I don’t really know a whole lot about kids. They may not like their food too…complicated. What do you feed eleven-year-old boys?”

  “Food and lots of it.”

  “That sounds simple.”

  “It is. A lot of things are simple, Rory, if you let them be.”

  Where had she heard that before, she thought.

  ****

  Rory decided to take Travis’ advice, at least where the kids were concerned. Simple turned out to be burgers and corn on the cob. It was more generic American than any of the Maine specialty recipes Jane had given her. Those she would save for another time. The kids loved it and consumed the food as if starving. She didn’t know if that should give her confidence a boost or teach her to prepare more next time.

  All of them, including Travis, had arrived at seven on the dot. They’d carpooled in Travis’ truck. He had promised their parents to have them back by ten, no matter how successful the hunting. After moaning at the thought of interrupting what they were certain would be a productive evening, the kids unloaded the truck and went about setting up their “equipment.” In spite of Travis’ snorts when they unpacked the items they’d brought with them and showed them off, they set about staging the scene with a seriousness worthy of any scientist. Even Travis gave them credit for researching the items and learning how to create their own equipment, albeit grudgingly.