Chapter 4

Everyone in the room seemed to freeze at once.

Ava glanced at each of the Phantoms crew with their bulging eyes and shook her head. They were in for a treat investigating this house if door slamming got them this excited.

Elise clapped her hands three quick times like a schoolmarm. "Tom, get the camera upstairs. Kerry, Sammy, go with. Verify no one's up there. The rest of you, start bringing in equipment."

They shuffled out.

"Not you, Jackson."

He turned toward his producer, having the gall to look sheepish.

Ava's anger fueled anew. "You." She jabbed her finger into his chest.

Damn, his chest was hard. Like solid granite hard. Oh, what muscle must lay under that tight navy shirt. Come to think of it, his arms were nice, too. Wide shoulders and toned biceps straining against the cotton...

She blinked and recovered. "A Kerrick? What kind of show are you people running here? You think you can lie your way in here-"

"You called us, luv."

Stupid, sexy accent. "That hardly matters if you came under false pretenses."

His large hands dropped to his waist, where his jeans rode low on his hips.

Don't look. Don't look.

"False pretenses? We're here because you called. We're here to investigate the paranormal incidents."

His...accent disappeared. The faker!

She made a sound closely resembling a drowning elephant. "You're not even British."

He huffed, and those really pretty blue eyes of his narrowed to slits. Black-as-midnight eyelashes shadowed his cheeks. He scratched his square jaw, where scruff was beginning to grow in. "I have dual citizenship."

Elise made a humming noise as she scribbled.

"Now what are you doing?" Ava asked at the same moment Jackson asked, "What's that you're writing?"

Accent returned. Her belly heated. British accents always turned her on. Oh, how she hated that just now.

Elise glanced up, her gaze darting between the two of them. "A Kerrick returns to Trumble territory."

Ava didn't like the smirk on the producer's face.

"Based on the story you told us, Ava, this is going to be phenomenal. Plus"-she waved her pen at them-"you two are hot. Sexual tension is crackling."

"Absolutely not!" Jackson snapped, charming grin gone. The jerk looked at Ava as if she were the most hideous thing he'd seen this week. But then he kept looking, and the obvious interest and appreciation heated her insides all the way to her bones.

She tried to keep up. "What are you talking about? There is no 'sexual' in this 'tension.'"

"I may finally win an Emmy," Elise muttered to herself. "Listen, Ava, you need something from us. Having Jackson here may just rile the spirits enough to get your answer."

Elise was probably right. Hopefully right. Ava didn't like being lied to, but if the end result was keeping the family mansion and her plans for the B&B, then she'd deal.

"And Jackson, you really should have warned me about your connection to the investigation."

He rubbed the back of his neck. His stupid sexy bedhead-look ruffled when he ran his hand over the wavy, black strands moments later. "I'm sorry. Look, as I said, it's a very distant relation. Two-hundred years is a long time to hold a grudge, wouldn't you say, luv?"

Ava opened her mouth, only to snap it shut. Was he trying to piss her off again? "Grudge? Your distant family members were traitors. This isn't about a grudge. I could care less about where you came from. I just don't like being lied to."

He waved his hand. "Fine. Fine. I was wrong." He beamed a thousand-watt grin, showing a row of perfect white teeth. "Forgive me?"

Oooh. He was going to be trouble. Four weeks of delicious, irritating trouble.

She sighed. "All right. No more lying, though."

Wait. What? Did she just forgive him? That easily?

Sammy and Kerry returned to the room.

"Nothing," Sammy said, seemingly at a loss. "No one's upstairs and all the doors were closed. We opened them before coming back down."

She gave Jackson a weak smile, and the intimate look that passed between them had Ava wondering if they were involved romantically.

Jackson mouthed, I'm fine, and Sammy nodded, smoothing a delicate hand over her short black strands.

She reminded Ava of a pixie. Sassy, but sexy.

Kerry had long, thick blonde hair, which she tucked repeatedly behind her ear, and made Ava jealous because her own wild, red waves were always just north of unruly. Kerry was more of a classical beauty. Southern belle meets Barbie, but in a much less obnoxious manner.

Every member of the crew was good-looking, in fact. The techies, Amir and Terrance, both black men in their late twenties, were stacked like body builders and had the bone structure of cologne models.

"Where do you want base, Elise?" Kerry asked.

Jackson looked at the producer before focusing on Ava. "What about the dining room? The table would be comfortable for Amir and Terrance to watch the monitors. A room with less activity is also best."

Ava nodded. "Fine by me."

"Okay, we need to film your welcome," Elise said. "Let's get that and the tour done so they can set up."

Ava felt like stupid wrapped in more stupid with two cameras on her as she opened the front door and welcomed the crew she'd already met three hours prior. Elise was silent this time around as Jackson introduced the gang from the front porch. Ava put on her game face and smiled.

From there, she led them to the living room. "This used to be a ballroom. In here, people have seen a white mist and the bottles on the mantle have been known to move." They walked into her office-slash-library. "I work from home, so I'm in here a lot. I sometimes feel like I'm being watched." The crew nodded and they went into the parlor. "This is the only room that still has period pieces. People have heard voices in here, and the window has been known to open by itself. My aunt used to close the window and drapes, only to find them open again soon after."

No one really disturbed the parlor. Neither Ava nor her great-aunt ever went in here, other than to clean. The chest in the corner was an original Goddard Townsend from 1801. Two Hepplewhite chairs in solid mahogany from 1802 were placed on either side of the chest. A matching Chesterfield couch and settee, dated to 1900, faced each other in the center of the room.

They moved into the dining room, painted a plain beige. The furniture set used to be Aunt Lois's and was an eight-seat naked wood design that matched the hutch. "Not much happens in here either, but I rarely use this room." They'd preferred the coziness of the kitchen instead when Aunt Lois had been alive.

"I agree this would be the place to set up shop," Sammy said. "I'd be afraid of breaking something anywhere else."

Ava smiled, liking Sammy.

She directed them to the kitchen, which, besides her third-floor suite, was Ava's favorite area. When Aunt Lois had remodeled, she'd let Ava pick out everything, from the stainless-steel appliances to the six-burner stove to the rainforest-green marble countertops. The cabinets were a distressed white design.

"I sometimes hear humming in this room and feel like I'm being watched. Often, when I wake in the morning, I'll find a teacup on the counter like someone left it there for me."

"Interesting." Jackson crossed his arms. "Are they usually kept in the cabinets?"

"Yes. I keep the cups above the coffeepot."

She took them out back so they could get a shot of the cliffs and cemetery, then they headed inside and up the three-story wooden spiral staircase. She gave them a tour of the five bedrooms, which had been remodeled when Aunt Lois was young for a small bathroom to accompany each bedroom. She told them the experiences of doors closing on their own, footsteps being heard, and the transparent figure of a woman who'd been seen.

The crew members doubled up and picked out their bedrooms to sleep in. Kerry and Sammy were to bunk in Aunt Lois's old room, with Amir and Terrance in another, and the cameramen, Tom and Earl, in two separate rooms. Jackson would sleep alone in Peter Trumble's former bedroom, which was also the closest to the stairwell to the third floor. Lee and Paul apparently didn't stay on location with the rest of the crew.

Ava walked into the large empty central hall. "Aunt Lois claimed she felt she couldn't breathe in here. The paintings are often found tilted no matter how many times they're straightened."

Jackson walked over and lifted one of the forest prints from the wall. "Two brackets. Hard to just knock over or slide off." He replaced the painting and stepped out of the room, glancing up the stairs. "Would you mind terribly if we did a sweep upstairs? In case anything does happen, I'd like a preliminary recording."

She shrugged. "I guess not, but like I said, nothing happens up there."

Jackson leaned in and whispered, "What a pity."

She narrowed her eyes to slits and clenched her jaw. And okay, being this close to him was so, so nice. But why was he flirting with her, especially with a camera nearby?

The top of the stairs opened into her loft-style living room and kitchenette, which had minimal furniture. Her bedroom to the right was ordinary.

"This floor used to be storage or maids' quarters."

Jackson led the group back down the stairs, where they assembled in the dining room. "Right. Big house. Lots to investigate. On with it, then."

"Cut," Elise called. "Perfect. Amir and Terrance, where do you want to set up the still cameras?"

Terrance crossed his arms over his massive, muscled chest. "We need a fixed camera in the parlor definitely, with the claims of windows and drapes opening. Same goes for the central hall upstairs because of the paintings."

Amir concurred. "The kitchen, too, with the teacup thing. I think the last one should go in the hallway upstairs because of the womanly apparition, and especially after those doors slammed."

Ava hung back and listened, confident they knew what they were talking about. They started discussing EMFs and thermos, which was when she zoned out.

Elise stepped into the corner once the cameras came back on and they had this discussion again on film.

Over the next two hours, Tom and Earl followed the crew around as they positioned cameras, taped down cords, and set up more technology in Ava's dining room than NASA could ever hope to acquire. They worked silently together, never brushing shoulders or arguing. Like a well-oiled machine. They were also very respectful of the house, using extreme caution not to bump the walls or disrupt the furniture. It was pretty impressive, even if she was out of the loop.

Before she knew it, Elise and Lee were saying their good-byes. Paul was staying overnight to interview town members tomorrow and to try to obtain whatever history he could from records, then he'd depart for New York, too.

Darkness was descending when Ava closed the door behind Elise and Lee.

"What now?" she asked.

~~*

They'd decided to head to Crabby's for dinner, a seafood bar and grill Ava had recommended a few blocks down the street. They walked a paved sidewalk parallel to the cliffs in silence, Ava leading the way.

Jackson liked the quaint feel of Kerrick. After being on location constantly, either in big cities or extreme rural areas, it was a nice change to be in small-town America. Passersby waved their greetings, and not a one asked for an autograph. Actually, no one seemed to recognize them.

Burning leaves and saltwater filled the brisk air. Most of the businesses along this back path were closed for the day, except restaurants and bars. He pulled his coat tighter, the bloody wind biting as the roar of the waves pummeled the rocks below.

Crabby's looked like a weather-beaten shack from the outside with gray clapboard paneling and was dangerously close to the cliff's ledge. Several cars were in the lot when they pulled open the front door, indicating it was popular.

The interior was a stark comparison to the exterior. Polished cherry cladding covered the walls, scattered with life preservers, buoys and fishing nets. The front of the building had a bar to the right and four or five high tables. Along the left wall were three dart boards and two pool tables where a few guys were racking a game. The back looked to be the restaurant and had a great view of the ocean with a wall of glass. The pub didn't smell like beer and cheap perfume. Rather, garlic butter and baking sourdough bread made him inhale deeply, warming his bones.

The bartender called Ava's name, waving them over.

She grinned at the man, and again, Jackson's gut shifted. Damn great smile that woman had. She made her way over and introduced everyone.

Joe, the happy bartender and owner, was round and ruddy, about forty or so, with red cheeks and a deep voice. "You're those folks from TV. The ghost program, eh?"

"We are." Jackson waited for the questions or skepticism or gushing adoration that always followed. None came. "Great place you've got here."

If possible, the man's grin widened. "Thank you. Take a seat anywhere and I'll send Brianna right over."

They walked into the back room and pushed a few tables together along the windows to make room for them all. A waitress appeared in seconds. She set down three baskets of fresh sourdough and rye bread on their tables.

"Hey, Brianna." Ava introduced the crew once again.

Brianna's eyebrows lifted. "No way. You guys are investigating the Trumble place?"

They nodded.

"Good luck to you. That place is creepy with a capital C. No offense, Ava."

Ava's smile didn't falter. "None taken. What's the soup today?"

Brianna pulled a pad of paper from her apron. "New England clam chowder. Daddy just caught the clams this morning. The special is crab cakes with asparagus spears."

They ordered drinks and perused the menu before Brianna took their order and walked away.

Jackson leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs. "You don't seem bothered she thinks your mansion is creepy."

Ava shrugged. "Everyone thinks the house is creepy. It is creepy." She laughed, a rich, lovely sound, and crossed her arms over the table's edge. "At least they don't think I'm creepy."

How could they? Look at her. She was the embodiment of warm welcome.

With the rest of the crew farther down the table and engaged in their own chatter, Paul, Sammy, and Jackson slipped easily into conversation with Ava.

"So, where would be the best place for me to start tomorrow?" Paul pushed his glasses up his nose.

Her small, pouting mouth twisted. "Definitely the library. You'll find newspaper archives. Ask for Fran. She'll help you. The Historical Society"-her smile vanished-"has some information. The Hansens run that. My mother owns a knitting and craft shop in town. You'll find most of the gossips there if you want a good story."

Jackson, enjoying the soft tone and lilt of her voice, took a sip of his ale. Kerrick sounded ideal.

His chest filled with envy. After a childhood traveling from London to Denver and back again, and after five years with Phantoms never staying in one spot, he wanted what Ava had here. A home, not just an apartment somewhere he rarely lived in. The same place to go to every day, where everyone knew him, and not from television.

The realization kept him silent while the others chatted. He'd never entertained the idea of settling down, so why now?

Their soup came, and he dug into his clam chowder, starving. "Wow. This is spectacular."

"Isn't it?" Ava said. "It's Joe's mother's recipe, and he won't share."

"You like to cook?"

She nodded. "It relaxes me. I work with numbers most of the day, so making a meal is a great way to unwind."

"You said you work from home?" He finished his soup. By far the best chowder he'd ever had.

"I have a business degree, but I mostly do bookkeeping for some of the shops in town. I also help them reorganize if there's a need and set up a business plan for tourism. What I really want to do is turn Trumble mansion into a bed and breakfast." Her gaze drifted to the window. "I can't if we don't find something on Sarah Kerrick."

Before he could reassure Ava that they'd try, Paul leaned forward and set his hand over hers. "We'll find something. I'm sure of it."

She offered Paul a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Where are you from?"

"Philly. My family's still there."

"Ah, ergo the love of history."

"Hard not to in that city." Paul nudged his empty bowl away.

"What about you, Jackson?" Ava shifted those gray eyes to him. "What's with the fake accent?"

Sammy barked a laugh.

He narrowed his eyes. "Not fake, luv. I travel from England to the States often enough. It comes natural."

"Uh huh," she said, dripping with the same snark from earlier.

He loved sass of any kind. It meant there was fire and determination. Those who had the quality went after what they wanted. Something he admired greatly, because he never had known what he wanted, never mind how to go after it.

Brianna brought out their meals and asked if they needed anything else before leaving them to it. The crab cakes on his plate were hot and thick and smelled like heaven.

Sammy nudged his foot under the table. She batted her eyelashes at him, letting him know he'd been staring at Ava with googly eyes.

Ava's expression was wrought with inquisition. "Are you two a thing? You look more like siblings."

She brought a bite of crab cake to her mouth, and he had to force his gaze away or groan.

Sammy smirked. "We get that a lot. Jackson is my best friend. No relation. No romance."

Yeah, the sister he never wanted. He loved her dearly anyway. Most of the time.

Moot point anyhow. He had a thing for redheads with snark and a fiery temper.

At least he did now.