Shiver / Private Sessions: Shiver / Private Sessions. Tori Carrington

they stepped into the hall. It was way less motel-like than Carrie would have imagined. It didn’t seem particularly ghost-friendly, either. Instead, it was calming, with a dark mauve carpet that had a gold diamond pattern, and framed black-and-white photographs of what she imagined were local attractions. Gorgeous pictures, actually. She stopped at a shot of an eagle against a clear sky with a very large, very snowy mountain filling the horizon. Her heart had managed to stop its manic pounding and she was almost herself once more.

      “That view’s about eighteen miles from here. If you’d like, I can show you.”

      She looked at Sam and it happened again. Tummy flutters, thoughts of kissing, heat. It was a bit more manageable this time, but still. She wasn’t the fluttery, blushing type. Admittedly, it had been a while since she’d had sex, but that fact alone couldn’t change her personality. “That’s a nice offer, thank you.”

      “Sure. There’s no skiing yet, not enough snow, but the ride out is spectacular. I take people out on the trail from time to time. There’s no real schedule to it. Just say when, and I’ll make sure it happens.”

      “That’s very nice of you, but I’m not much of a cowgirl. I’ve lived in big cities my whole life.”

      “That’s a shame. Not that I have anything against major cities. I live in one myself, when I’m not here. But seeing this country on the back of a horse? It’s a remarkable experience.”

      “Excuse me.”

      Carrie turned at Erin’s voice. She was down the hall by her open door.

      “I’ve got a phone call I have to make, so maybe you could drop off my bag? “

      No way Erin had to “make a phone call.” She just wanted to get unpacked so she could get to the good stuff—the hunting. Or she wanted to leave Sam and Carrie alone. Yeah, it was probably that second thing.

      Sam hopped to it, and had the Excessively Large Suitcase on the bed in two shakes. Then it was on to Carrie’s room, which was identical to Erin’s in all but color. There was a great queen-size bed with wooden head and footboards, a comforter that made her want to jump between the sheets immediately, preferably with the man standing next to her, and a good-size desk that would make working there easy. There was even a small fridge and microwave. All in all, especially for the price, this was an excellent room. “Nice.”

      “We try.” Sam put her suitcase on the bed. When he turned back to the rest of the bags, he said, “I see you’re all set to do some serious ghost hunting.”

      She reminded herself of her role here and smiled. “You bet. I’m all about the ghosts. The more, the better. Bring it on.”

      He chuckled, a sexy rumbly sound accompanied by a sly sideways glance. His nose, she realized, was on the large side, but it suited him. He also had a dimple in his chin, and how had she not noticed that before? Altogether gorgeous. Which didn’t really explain her reaction to him. She lived in L.A. for god’s sake. She saw gorgeous men all the time.

      “So, L.A.?”

      “Yeah,” she said as she frowned. “How did you—”

      “When you registered.”

      “Ah.”

      “What part?”

      “Downtown.”

      He put her laptop on the desk. “Really? You’re the first person I’ve ever met who lived in downtown L.A.”

      “Lots of us do. Just not as many as say, Chicago, because L.A.’s so spread out.”

      “That’s true. I’ve worked there before. Not for a while, though.”

      “Doing what?”

      “Documentary films. So, you live in one of those big high-rise buildings?”

      “Converted bread factory. It’s a loft with a great view of the flower market.”

      “Sounds great.”

      “You live here, I suppose.”

      His lips came together and a shadow crossed his eyes. “Not really. I inherited the place after my father died.”

      “Oh. I’m sorry.”

      He put her scanner, which he wouldn’t be able to tell was a scanner, on the desk, as well. “It’s fine. I grew up here. This is home.”

      “It’s cozy. Pretty.”

      “Yeah, it is.” There was more to unload from the cart, but that was done quickly, and then he put his hands in his pockets and rolled up on the balls of his feet for a second. His gaze wandered the room as if he weren’t intimately familiar with the décor.

      Her frown came back as she wondered why. The situation was new to her. Always before, she’d met her vacation flings at bars or in the pool, and they had all been fellow travelers. Not that there had been all that many. And she’d never had this kind of immediate full-body flush minutes after meeting. Maybe his lingering had nothing to do with sex at all. He probably wanted to give her some tips about the—

      Tips. Dammit. She grabbed her purse and pulled out her wallet. Without a second thought, she whipped out a ten even though it was overkill. “Thank you,” she said, holding the bill out to him.

      He looked at the money, his eyes widened, then he looked at her. “Um. No, you don’t have to—”

      “I want to. Really.”

      He didn’t actually blush, but his expression let her know that trying to tip him was a stupid, stupid move. Par for the course, today. Now she didn’t know whether to put the money away, or what. She decided to drop it on the bedside table. Casually. As if she’d meant to do that all along.

      Of course, it didn’t work. Yet, he still didn’t leave. Okay, she’d made a mess of everything so far, why not go for the whole enchilada and find out if he, in fact, had any interest in her at all? “Do I remind you of someone you know? “

      His head jerked up from looking at the ten-dollar bill. “Excuse me?”

      “Downstairs. When I was in line. You looked as though you thought I was someone else.”

      “No, I didn’t,” he said, quickly.

      Carrie blinked. She responded with a drawn-out, “Okay.”

      He opened his mouth, showing his very nice white teeth, then closed it again. After a sigh, he said, “I think we may have met before but I can’t remember where. It’s kind of driving me crazy.” He took a step closer. “I don’t suppose you recognize me.”

      “Nope. Not even a little bit.”

      “Ah. Well. Okay, then.” He backed up toward the door. “Maybe I do think you look like someone else.” He stopped, took a step toward her. “Do you ever go to San Diego?”

      “I’ve been there.”

      “Huh.”

      It didn’t seem as if he was going to say any more about that. Instead, he focused on the ten dollars again.

      “You used to live in San Diego?”

      He shook his head. “No. New York. Still do.”

      She wasn’t sure what was going on here. It probably should have been a lot more uncomfortable than it was, but then, she was used to weird conversations with highly intelligent but socially awkward geeks. “Documentary filmmaker?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Anything I’ve seen?”

      “Doubt it. Unless you go to small film festivals. I’ve done four major pieces, and a bunch of shorts. Mostly to do with human-rights activism.”

      “Wow, good cause.”

      “Yeah.”

      “No