by Sable Hunter
The guests who came to stay with her enjoyed their escape from the everyday. Within these walls they were able to leave their troubles behind. Madeline and her staff gave them a carefree stay with sumptuous baths, soft as air mattresses and service with a smile. If they encountered a spirit from the past—well, there was no extra charge.
Today, Valentine’s Eve, everyone seemed content—except the owner, Madeline Cross. She was attempting to locate a man who would pretend to be her lover. “There’s no listing in the yellow pages for escorts,” she grumbled. Slamming the phone book closed, she turned to the computer instead. When Elaine, the temporary help, crept up behind her, Madeline angled the monitor so she couldn’t see. Doing a google search for ‘male escort services Galveston Texas,’ she hit enter and waited to see what would happen. To her immense relief, several website links popped up. Quickly, she scanned them. The one that caught her eye was named BOYSQUAD.
Okay.
Maddie clicked on it and was shocked when a page of thumbnail photos popped up. Hmmm, she’d been expecting men in suits, but what she got was shirtless shots of men’s torsos with rippling abs or ones of a man’s bare backside. Neither pose was very helpful for her purposes. She wanted faces! Nevertheless, Madeline studied them one by one and finally clicked on a gentleman by the name of Rod Long. “He sounds reasonable and has a nice chest.” She enlarged the photo, but there was no more to it than what she was seeing—only bigger. Seeing that Elaine and Tilly were nowhere in sight, she dialed the number and was shocked when someone answered on the second ring.
“What can I do you for?”
The poorly worded question took Maddie by surprise. “Good morning, sir. Are you Rod Long?”
“You got him.”
“Very good, I hope you’re well. My name is Madeline Cross.” She greeted him in a congenial voice. “I would like to enquire if you’re available for dinner this evening?”
“Dinner?” She could hear some typing and a voice in the background. “Will I be spending the night?”
Madeline thought. “Give me your rates and let me consider it.” Actually, if it wasn’t too expensive that scenario might go a long way in solving her problem.
“Well, I charge a hundred dollars an hour or eight hundred for the whole night. If you want something really kinky…” the man laughed, “I might knock fifty off.” He laughed some more. Maddie sort of liked his accent. Very exotic.
“The whole night seems like the best value.” She gave him the minimum amount of information he’d need to pretend they were dating. “When you come, if you could tell my employee at the desk that your name is Weston Rogers and act like we know one another well. When we’re together, just follow my lead. Come to the Windswept Hotel at seven, I’ll be cooking dinner and if you could dress business casual, I’d appreciate it.” Madeline gave Rod no chance to reply or ask questions. Primly she hung up and smiled, satisfied.
“Madeline! Madeline!” Tilly came running across the lobby.
“What’s wrong?” She jumped up, concerned.
“The guests in 213 are naked on the beach!”
Maddie’s eyes grew wide. “The temperature is in the 40s. This isn’t the Polar Bear Club.”
“I know, they’re turning an odd shade of blue.” Tilly grabbed Madeline’s hand and hauled her over to the front windows. Several other guests stood and watched also, hands over their mouths.
“Oh, my goodness,” Maddie grumbled. “They’re too old for that kind of PDA.” She hid a smile, seeing the middle-aged couple attempting to reenact the famous surf scene in the old movie From Here To Eternity. “Tilly, run out there and tell them if they want to swim nude, they need to ride the ferry over to McFaddin Beach on Bolivar Peninsula. If the police catch them here, we’ll be fined and so will they.”
She shook her head as her employee started off to do her bidding. Tilly didn’t get very far before she turned around and yelled, “That architect called, he’s going to have someone drop off the drawings for you to review this evening.”
“Good. Let Elaine know about that and be sure to tell her I have a gentleman caller coming for dinner, so it will be okay to send him up around seven this evening.”
“A gentleman caller?” Tilly gave her an interested stare.
“Don’t ask.”
“Yes, ma’am. Gotcha. Your sister left bright and early, she said she’d be shopping on the Strand until after lunch.”
“Good. We can use all the economic stimulation we can get.” The Strand was Galveston’s Rodeo Drive. It was only a block off the bay where cruise ships and the tall ship Elissa docked. There would be enough high fashion there to occupy her easily distracted sibling. And as for the architect’s plans? Well, Maddie couldn’t worry about the renovations right now, she had to get ready for her ‘date.’ Putting on a show good enough to convince Morgana she didn’t need help with men was as important as protecting Windswept from falling into the wrong hands.
As she made her way toward the elevators, several guests were arriving. “Hello, I hope you all have a good time. If you need anything let us know.” Valentine’s Day wasn’t her favorite celebration, she much preferred Halloween or Christmas. When you had no significant other, the holiday was pretty meaningless. All of the happy couples holding hands and sneaking kisses made her sad.
“Excuse me, miss.” A beautiful young redhead stopped Maddie with a hand on her arm. “Could you recommend a few things we could do in Galveston during our stay?”
“Certainly,” Maddie answered, donning her tour director hat. “The local symphony orchestra is playing at the Galveston Opera House tonight and the whole island is celebrating Mardi Gras with parades on the Strand, dances on the seawall and there’s a masquerade ball at the Hilton hotel. Check with our concierge for tickets.”
Her husband leaned in and whispered, “How about something spooky? Any ideas?”
“Ah.” Madeline grinned. “You’re certainly staying in the right place. We have several resident spirits. A confederate soldier is sometimes seen on the second floor balcony off the billiard room and children’s laughter is sometimes heard in the hall on the first floor west wing.” She was about to tell about Lafitte’s hounds when he interrupted her.
“Oh, we’ve researched Windswept. We know about the woman who appears on the widow’s walk and the phantom pirate ship. Believe me, we’ll be keeping our eyes peeled for those rascals. How about away from the hotel? I brought my ghost hunting gear.” He patted his duffle.
Madeline had her spiel ready. “Galveston is listed as one of the most haunted cities in America. Make reservations to visit the Menard House, take Dash Beardsley’s ghost tour and drive down to the University of Texas Medical Branch’s Ewing Building. There’s a huge face on the outside wall that many believe is the image of the man who used to own the property. His will stated that the property was never to be sold.” As Maddie told the tale, a little crowd gathered around her. People loved stuff like this. She continued with her story. “When his heirs went against his wishes and sold this prime piece of beach front property to a university, the building that was constructed had an unusual decoration appear on one of the concrete panels. A very recognizable face appeared. The owners sandblasted it off, but the face reappeared on the next panel below. Again it was sandblasted and again the image moved lower.” A few gasps could be heard.
“Did they sandblast it the third time?” the woman with the bright red hair asked.
“No,” Madeline whispered. “The door is right below the third panel and they were afraid he’d come right in.”
While a conversation began among the guests gathered in front of the check-in desk, Maddie escaped to her quarters. She had a lot to do. Despite living in a hotel, she took care of most of her own needs herself. The maids didn’t clean her quarters and she cooked her own food, unless there was something on the menu downstairs that was particularly appealing. Living in a Bed and Breakfast could be overwhelming, guests were demanding and there
was always something going on. That was why Maddie made a concentrated effort to carve out her own little niche in the big mansion. She couldn’t be too critical, however, Windswept couldn’t exist as a private home, not without a major influx of cash. Since she wouldn’t bend to her family’s manipulation tactics and had no hope to marry anytime soon, the Bed and Breakfast was the answer.
After she prepared a strawberry trifle, Maddie vacuumed all the rugs and dusted the furniture. There were no antiques in her suite, she preferred French country to French provincial any day. Now, she needed to get the beef tenderloin ready for the oven. Since this wasn’t a real date, Maddie wasn’t worried about her hair being perfect or what she would wear. Morgana’s opinion of her couldn’t be lower and Rod would be happy if his check didn’t bounce. So there was no one she was anxious to impress.
She set the table, prepared a salad and moved her basket of the festive cyclamen to the coffee table as a centerpiece. Needing a moment to breathe, Madeline went to the window and gazed out at the water. On the West end of the island, there was no seawall. From the front door of the hotel to the surf was only a couple of hundred yards. A comfortable sitting area flanked the boardwalk leading over the dune and steps wound their way down to the sand. There was even a beautiful pool and cabana on the beachside for her guest’s enjoyment. Feeling peaceful, she peered out over the Gulf, counting twelve oil tankers lined up to enter the Houston ship channel. A harbor master would come and escort them through the crowded waterway.
No matter the chill in the air, there were always people on the beach hunting shells, watching birds or boats and enjoying the sea air. Even though she had lived in this home most of her life, she never grew tired of watching the water. One day was never like the one before. In the last year, she’d seen a whale, found a US ammo box washed up on the beach filled with silver certificates and Confederate money, and picked up an arrowhead. She loved the history of the area and studied everything from the legends of the pirates like Jean Lafitte to the Native American Indians, the Karankawa, who were reputed to have been seven feet tall and cannibalistic. Morgana always said it was no wonder she didn’t have a boyfriend, Madeline’s interests were too far removed from dancing, dressing up and playing the coquette to attract a man.
Too bad, Madeline thought. She couldn’t change herself just to please a member of the opposite sex. Especially when she was never fortunate to keep one very long. Ah well, maybe when Morgana married she would be so occupied that she’d retire from tormenting her. At least this time, the man would stay faithful, at least for the duration of dinner. After all, she was making it worth his trouble—for money! How would she explain that she and Weston’s relationship was so short-lived? Maddie wracked her brain. Ah, she’d think of something. Morgana wouldn’t be surprised when Maddie broke the news they’d parted ways. That was one unfortunate advantage to her romantic ineptitude.
A noise at the door alerted her that Morgana was home. She rushed around to pick up a few stray items like dust cloths, her slippers, a Kindle—things that her sister would find fault with. Just as the door flew open, she whirled around, her dark hair flying, trying to appear nonplussed. “Why aren’t you dressed?” Her sister was aghast.
Oh well, Morgana was always aghast about something. “I’m about to.” She waved her hand. “It doesn’t really matter. West loves me exactly as I am.”
“Oh, the man’s blind, I see.”
“You’re mean.” Maddie didn’t know if it was Morgana’s attitude or the late afternoon chill, but she decided to turn on the gas fireplace and warm the room. “You won’t be dining with us, will you?” She hated to be rude, but three was a crowd—even on a fake date.
Morgana studied her nail polish. “Of course, Magpie.” She looked at Madeline pointedly. “Do you think I’d miss this momentous occasion? I intend to meet your man so I can report to Mother. After I’m satisfied he’s for real and not a figment of your imagination, I’ll go to my room and think of ways I’m going to spend the money I get from selling this haunted house. You’ll forget I’m even nearby, I promise.”
A distinct ick feeling crept up Maddie’s spine. “You just came to spy on me. I’m sorry, but you can tell Mother there’s no way I’m ever agreeing to sell. This is my home.”
Morgana gave a casual shake of her well-kempt tresses. “You’d do well to change your mind. If you’d come home with us and quit trying to live as a common innkeeper, maybe you could have some semblance of a decent social life. Hugh Beaumont’s single, you could start by agreeing to speak with him. Who knows? He might be visually impaired enough to find you acceptable. I know he finds this prime beachfront property attractive.”
Madeline bristled. “You know, I’m too smart to let a man seduce me just so he can get his hands on this piece of real estate—no matter how much money he’s offering.” She straightened her shoulders and glared at her sister. “I’ll not whore myself to pad your bank account.”
To Maddie’s dismay, Morgana laughed. “I’m not sure you have what it takes to interest a man for free—much less for money.”
“Well, I never!” Madeline huffed off.
“Exactly my point.”
Her sister’s pointed phrase reached Maddie’s ears as she slammed the bedroom door.
Chapter Three
Weston Rogers threw the aluminum storage tube in the backseat of his Jag and headed west on Seawall Boulevard. All he had to do was drop off these drawings and he was free through the weekend. He hadn’t made any plans to speak of, not even a date for Valentine’s Day. A nice, quiet, peaceful weekend—drama free. Maybe he’d have lunch with his brothers. Dallas needed a break from his new law practice and Aiden rarely took a day off from his construction business. Hell, they all needed a chance to unwind. After his less than friendly break-up with Sunny, West had no plans to get serious about another woman for a long, long time. He was so tired of self-centered women who cared more about their hairdo and lip gloss than they did about just carrying on a conversation or getting to know him.
The sun was setting as he drove toward Sandhill Shores where the upscale Bed and Breakfast was located. It was the lone original structure set in a neighborhood of upscale homes that would rival the Hamptons. The conversations he’d had with the owner, one Madeline Cross, suggested that she would do anything to protect her home. So, he’d done his very best. The undertaking would be massive. From the blueprints, he could see that the hotel rose four stories but the ground floor was sheltered parking and outdoor living areas, all of which could be protected or evacuated if a storm blew in. What he was proposing to do was reinforce and add pilings, digging them down into the sand some eighteen feet to anchor the structure in case of high winds and rising water. As far as the rest of the hotel, he was suggesting welding supports to the main beams of every floor. Some of the siding would have to be removed and replaced but it would be worth the major outlay it would cost. He and his family supported one another. West drew up the plans and Aiden and his crew brought them to life. Dallas was there if they needed permits, deed searches or some other legal advice. They were lucky.
Turning on the radio, he listened to Easton Corbin sing Baby, Be My Love Song. He loved to sing, so he let loose. “Baby, be my ‘oh hell-yeah’!” As he sang about a guy finding the girl who would be just what he needed, West felt lonely for the first time in weeks…
About five miles behind Weston, Rod Long glanced at himself in the rearview mirror—dang, he looked good. What was his name again? Wesley Roberts? Winston Rodman? Oh, well—it didn’t matter. He’d just smile and flex. That usually worked. He just hoped the woman who hired him was a hottie. He wasn’t above turning down the job if the client wasn’t a looker. Rod Long didn’t do ugly. He couldn’t get it up. Anyone would understand that…
In the B&B, Tilly and Elaine were going over some last minute details. “Are you sure you understand?” Tilly asked, nervous about leaving Elaine in charge.
“I’ll be fine.” Elaine assured
her as she clicked her nails on the counter. “Everyone is checked in but Room 11 and they’re not due till early in the morning.”
“True, but you have to keep alert in case someone loses their key or needs help of some kind.”
Elaine pointed to the room behind the desk. “I am a light sleeper. If I happen to doze off on that comfy bed in there, the least little thing will wake me.”
“Don’t even think about lying down until after midnight. And then, keep your clothes on. If you have to come to the desk, you don’t want to do it in a bra and thong.”
“But I look really good in a bra and thong—or nothing.” Elaine stretched sensuously. “Quit worrying, this will be a piece of cake.”
Tilly wondered at the wisdom of hiring Tweedledum as she’d heard a guest refer to Elaine today. “Just be careful, I’m ultimately responsible and we have to take care of Madeline, she depends on us.”
“Believe me, Madeline is my priority.” Elaine winked at her, which confused Tilly to no end.
“Well…okay.” She hadn’t decided whether Elaine was an angel to the rescue or the devil in disguise…
Upstairs, Madeline was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. Frowning, she made a face in the mirror, then busted out giggling. “Why are you getting so excited about this? The man doesn’t have to think I’m good looking, I’m paying him.” In reality, she was dressing up and acting for Morgana’s sake more than her own. Leaning close, she examined her eyelashes. Maybe she ought to invest in some false ones. Maddie batted her eyes at her own reflection. Nah, that would be dumb. If she was going to buy something fake, it would be smarter to opt for boobs. Men cared more about breasts than they did eyelashes.
