ZenithRising (3 page)

“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…concerned?” She tried not to sound as
worried as she felt.

He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Not at all. This kind of
thing is exactly what I came here for.” He 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…there was flowered
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suspenders hanging off the waist of his pants and there was something outdated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 such beings. But I’m thinking of ghosts, the spirits of dead people
who didn’t move on. Supposedly 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 god.
Maybe it was 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.”

Maggie wasn’t completely surprised when they were
immediately ushered into The Emerald Dome, Davenport’s award-winning
restaurant. Apparently the sign advising reservations were required was not
meant for the likes of Noah Nash. Being with a celebrity was turning out to
feel like being one herself.

The second thing she noticed as they entered was the
twenty-foot-high rock formation and cascading waterfall in the middle of the room.
Like islands around the base of the mountain, the tables were privatized by
large prehistoric-looking ferns, flowering bird-of-paradise plants and orchids
of every type and color. She knew the sun had not yet set but the glass dome
panels were darkened to make it look like night had already fallen. The overall
interior was softly illuminated and enhanced by candles and twinkling overhead
lights dangling like stars from invisible strings. She assumed the panels would
be opened 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
everything
sounded good and the
prices were too inflated to ignore. “What are you having?” she finally asked.

“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 sour lemon
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 she knew
she could never afford to find out if she liked it on her own.

Noah also ordered a bottle of wine
not
recommended by
the chef. There wasn’t even a price shown for that.

As soon as the waiter left them, Maggie got a pen out of her
purse and opened her notebook. “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.”

“Oh, okay then. Well, the first thing I want to do is
explore. Get the feel of the whole place.”

“I brought a book about the hotel’s history and the bellhop
mentioned an informational notebook—”

“Did you read any of it?” he cut in with a concerned look.

“Not yet.”

“Good. The walk-around is more effective when you use your
senses rather than someone else’s accounting of the 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 the 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 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. “Wow, 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.”

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 then it
cleared up so I thought I was mistaken.”

“Then what?”

“Then I saw…something else. 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 there again.” She didn’t think it was necessary to tell
him about the particular moment she’d been remembering or how it had
effectively stirred her lust before he even showed up.

Their cold soups arrived and she drained her glass. She had
only noticed Noah refilling her glass once but the upturned bottle in the ice
bucket suggested she may have had more than her usual limit.

She watched the way Noah gently blended the cream into the
spicy red 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 a short time ago, 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 again.”

“Was I in it?” he asked quietly.

Her vaginal muscles contracted in response. She delayed by
tasting the soup and tried to think about the interesting combination of
flavors passing over her tongue. But dammit, her panties felt wet again. “Yes.
But that would make sense. You were coming, er, would be arriving 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’d
been remembering the kiss too?”

She eased her hand back and sat up straight. “No. It
wouldn’t help at all. I’m sorry, Noah. 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 in the room before. And why you’re looking at me like this now.
And why, in all the years in between, no other boy or man ever made me feel
that way?”

“What way?” He cautiously reached for her hand and after a
little flinch she allowed him to intertwine her fingers with his.

“Like there’s no world outside of us. Like we’re each being
broken down to a cellular level and being rebuilt as a single new life form.”

“Wow. Who’s the wordsmith here? I couldn’t say it better,
but if you want simpler, I’d say we have incredible chemistry together. What’s
so confusing?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “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 seem to 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 could say it. “Gay.”

His jaw dropped and he stared at her as though she’d just
grown another head. “Maggie, you may not have had a lot of positive experience
with men but you are not a lesbian. Trust me.”

She was momentarily silenced as the waiter brought their
salades
and fresh, warm rolls and took away their soup course. The aroma wafting off
the bread made her mouth water but she made herself wait to satisfy the urge to
taste. As soon as they were alone she leaned forward and murmured, “Not
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 know? We were practically inseparable in tenth grade.”

He gave his head a quick shake. “You believe I’m a
homosexual? 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 all the other boys I knew. You were sweet and
thoughtful and we talked about feelings and philosophy and you even enjoyed
shopping with me. I figured it’s why we got along so well. And you never once got
goofy over any of my girlfriends and some of them were really cute. And I know
you’ve never been married. I read your bio.”

She watched a whole gamut of emotions pass over his
face—curiosity, disbelief, comprehension, consideration and finally sincerity.

“Maggie, I have a very close friend who is openly gay and he
actually does fit the stereotype you’re describing so I’ll refrain from giving
you a lecture about prejudging people and the dangers of making assumptions.
But I swear, I have never lusted after a member of my own sex. And the only
reason I never got ‘goofy’ over your friends was none of them were as cute or
smart or fun as you. Besides, I knew none of them would ever give me a second
look. I was a scrawny kid with too many insecurities to mention. 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. At
fifteen that was more than I could hope for. You held the pretend flag between
us like it was your security blanket and I took you at your word that you
didn’t want a relationship with any guy. It never occurred to me to trespass
and risk the good thing I had with you.”

She gave in to the dinner roll’s seductive invitation as a
way to think about what he had just said. He was right about her making a big,
and apparently faulty, assumption about his sexual preference but it didn’t
explain everything. “After you left, you never answered my calls or letters. I
figured you had found new friends and forgot all about me.”

He snorted. “I
wanted
to forget about you, believe
me. By the time I moved, our little deal had turned into torture. All you
wanted was my friendship and I couldn’t settle for that anymore. Then, in the
first long letter you wrote, you went on and on about some guy you’d met and,
well, it was the last straw for me.”

“I feel so foolish. 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 gave up my virginity. I don’t think I was ready even then. Just so you
know, I don’t even remember what guy I was talking about in that letter. I just
thought of you as a girlfriend who’d be interested in such nonsense.”

Rather than continue to defend his masculinity or justify
his cutting her out of his life, he squeezed her hand and said, “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 corrected the
misunderstandings. And I’m glad we’re agreed about having plenty of chemistry.
But, at the risk of you thinking I’m not a completely heterosexual man, I’m
going to suggest we fight the chemistry a while longer and get to know each
other as adults.”

She smiled with her whole face and he visibly relaxed. “I
think that would be wonderful.”

“Good. So put the notebook away and enjoy the rest of your
dinner.”

The meal truly was an extraordinary treat and once they’d
cleared the air she was able to savor it, even the mysterious truffle. She was
also feeling delightfully relaxed after consuming most of the ice wine but knew
better than to allow Noah to order another bottle of that or any other
alcoholic beverage. It would not do to lower her inhibitions more than they
already were.

He asked her about some of the places she’d visited on her
travel adventures and she asked him about how he became a writer. They covered
updates on their families and mutual acquaintances and discussed favorite
music, movies and television. She admitted she was a romance junkie and he
admitted he had adopted four stray dogs and two cats.

By the time they’d shared a piece of mango-key lime pie and
sipped frothy cappuccinos, the only topic totally avoided was relationships.
Not a single question was raised about past or present lovers or why neither
had ever married.

“Are you up for a walk on the beach?” he asked after the
waiter delivered the check.

“Absolutely. But I think I’d have to walk all the way to
Miami to burn off all the calories I just devoured.”

“We’ll make up for it tomorrow,” he promised.