Oleander House: Bay City Paranormal Investigations, Book 1

the flat expanse, his bag slung over one shoulder. He wondered if the Civil War had splattered this place with blood and ghosts as it had so much of the South.
It took a couple of minutes for the door to open after he rang the bell. A woman with fiery curls and bright blue eyes stood on the other side. Amy Landry, the woman who’d hired him. She smiled and held out her hand. Sam took it and they shook.
“Hi, Sam,” she said. “How was your drive?”
“Hey, Amy. It was fine, no problem.” He stepped into the echoing foyer and set his bag on the polished wood floor. “This place is amazing.”
“Sure is. Wait ’til you hear its history.” She started toward an arch in the left-hand wall, motioning Sam to follow. “Come get some dinner, and I’ll introduce you to everyone else. You can leave your bag here for now.”
Sam trailed behind her down a long hallway with rich cherry paneling and a floor tiled in crimson-andcream marble. French doors lined the hall on his left, opening on the front porch. They passed a closed set of carved wooden double doors on his right before they came to a set that stood open. Light and voices drifted from inside.
The dining-room walls were painted a dark claret, offset by a cream-colored ceiling. The other members of the group sat around a large wooden table, eating and talking. Three pairs of eyes turned to Sam and Amy as they entered the room.
“Guys, this is Sam Raintree, our new tech assistant,” Amy announced to the group. “Sam, this is Andre Meloy, Cecile Langlois and David Broom.”
Andre, a tall, muscular man with deep brown skin and a movie-star smile, stood and offered a hand across the table. “Pleased to meet you, Sam. I’m the lead tech specialist, we’ll be working together a lot.”
“Good to meet you too, Andre.” Sam shook Andre’s hand, trying not to wince at the other man’s bone-crushing grip.
“Have a seat,” David said, giving Sam a dimpled grin. “I’m the rest of the tech department, great to have you aboard.” He mopped his balding head with his napkin. “Hot in here, huh? August in Mississippi, we must be nuts. No air conditioning either.”
“At least there’s indoor plumbing.” Amy sat next to Andre and passed Sam a big bowl full of something that smelled hot and spicy. “Have some jambalaya, Sam, you must be hungry after the long drive.”
Sam took the empty seat next to David and started heaping his plate with food. “Yeah, I am, thanks.”
“So, this your first investigation?” Andre asked, forking up a mouthful of jambalaya.
Sam nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve been on a few amateur hunts, but this is my first professional one. I’m really excited about it. Sure beats the hell out of working in computer tech support.”
“This isn’t a vacation, you know.” Cecile gave him a cool look from under her long chestnut bangs. “It can be dangerous. The spirit world isn’t something to be taken lightly.” Her many bracelets clinked together as she picked up her wineglass.
Sam frowned at her. The wine swirling around the bottom of her glass was the color of blood. For a moment he was sure it was exactly that. She took a sip, grimaced, and set the glass down.
“Cecile is the psychic sent by the home’s owner,” Amy said, as if that explained the woman’s attitude. The way she glared at Cecile was not friendly. “Sam, would you like some wine?”
“No. Thank you.” Sam scooped up a forkful of jambalaya. “Oh, man, this is fantastic,” he declared with his mouth full.
“Thanks. I made it myself.”
Sam looked up to see the owner of the new voice standing in the doorway opposite to the one he and Amy had entered through. Suddenly his heart was in his throat. The man was near his own six-foot-plus height, slim and graceful, with caramel skin and large, soft eyes the color of rich delta soil. Swatches of straight black hair escaped a haphazard braid to fall across the sensual curves of his face.
Sam gulped, trying desperately to keep his immediate attraction from showing. He’d learned the hard way that not everyone took kindly to having a gay man in their midst. Some people still thought it was contagious.
“I’m Dr. Broussard,” the man said, coming toward him with a wide smile and outstretched hand. “Call me Bo.”
So this was the founder and lead investigator for Bay City Paranormal. Sam stood on wobbly legs and shook Bo’s broad, callused hand. He couldn’t help thinking how beautifully Bo’s darkness