by Leona Karr
“All clear,” he assured her, and he was rewarded by a weak nod of her head. Dark ringlets of tousled hair framed her face. She looked so damn fragile and totally vulnerable in those soft pajamas that he could hardly refrain from touching her. “You’d better get yourself back in bed.”
She just stood there, looking at him, and he knew she was fighting for control.
“I think the entertainment is over for the night,” he said as lightly as he could.
Her lips struggled for a smile that never reached her eyes, and when she shivered, he pulled her close and was lost. He yielded to the tantalizing softness of her caressable body and captured her lips in a kiss that totally shocked him. He’d never felt such sensual pleasure and fiery hunger. Under different circumstances, he would have deepened the kiss until there was no turning back, but even as he longed to lift her in his arms and carry her into the bedroom, he knew he couldn’t do it. Not tonight. She was in his arms because she was reeling from an onslaught of draining emotions. How could he ever be sure that she wouldn’t hate him for letting both of them get out of control?
“I’ll tuck you in,” he said hoarsely as he drew his lips away from hers. “And I’ll sleep on the couch.”
At least, I will tonight, he silently added.
Chapter Eight
Stacy lay awake, listening to Josh’s movement in the other room. She was still shaken by the devastating kisses that had crumbled every ounce of her common sense. Even now, she fought a desire to ignore her pride and go to him.
And then what? Do you really want to set yourself up for another rejection?
She had invited his advances. Any man would have responded to a scantily clad woman clinging to him the way she had. What had she expected him to do? Pat her on the head? No, she’d wanted to lose herself in his vibrant masculinity and close her mind to everything but the protective strength of his body pressing against hers. Plain and simple, she’d wanted him to make love to her. And he had rejected the offer.
She mentally cursed herself for being such a fool. What else could she have expected? This whole situation was enough to make any sensible person think twice about getting involved with a crazy man’s niece.
The attic’s collection of grotesque, useless machines and forms was evidence that renovating the hotel was a mockery. Carrying out her uncle’s wishes would justify her inheritance, but it would be costly. Spending money on such an irrational project was pure stupidity.
And someone didn’t want her to do it! If Josh’s speculations were correct, everything that happened tonight was aimed at making her pack up and leave.
She sighed, suddenly too exhausted physically and emotionally to think clearly. In the morning, she’d try to sort it all out and make some decisions. Tonight her mind kept returning to the way Josh’s kisses and caresses had awakened passions she’d thought forever gone.
Bedded down on the living room couch, Josh’s thoughts were running along tangled lines. Should he call the sheriff and report what had happened? Better to wait, Josh decided. What if Mosley had orchestrated the whole thing himself, or had someone like a robot deputy do it?
The whole fiasco of creating a museum out of the hotel was ludicrous, and obviously the delusions of a mad mind, but Josh didn’t see how the project would frighten anyone. If it wasn’t making the hotel into a museum that was the threat to someone—what was?
Maybe it’s you.
Josh stiffened. Was his intuitive answer correct? If the perpetrator frightened Stacy enough, she’d close up the place, leave and he wouldn’t have access to the premises. If someone wanted him gone, then scaring Stacy into shutting up the hotel was the way to make that happen. As Josh considered this possibility, it reinforced his belief that the truth about Renquist and Glenda’s death lay somewhere on the premises. He was on the right track, he knew it. He just needed time to prove it.
“I don’t know who’s behind all of this, but I’m going to find out,” Josh told himself. He worried that what had happened between him and Stacy might make her reluctant to continue in their present arrangement. The shock of her uncle’s genius gone mad had taken its toll. He knew that she’d never have let him kiss and caress her like that if her defenses hadn’t been down, and he cursed himself for giving in to a growing sexual attraction that went beyond the level he’d felt for any woman. He couldn’t afford to give in to a deepening affection that could frighten her away. What he had to do was make sure that she didn’t close down the hotel and turn it back over to the lawyer before he had a chance to find out whatever someone was desperately trying to hide.
For the rest of the night, Josh slept fitfully, and he awoke when the first gray light of dawn came through the balcony door. An idea had surfaced on the border of sleep and wakefulness that might provide a possible solution to both his and Stacy’s dilemma.
He quickly dressed, left the apartment, and hurried down to the kitchen. Pulling out Willard’s drawings, he studied them with new insight. He was still sitting at the kitchen table when Chester and Rob arrived at the back door.
“What are we doing today, boss?” Chester said with his lazy grin, while Rob’s face held its usual glower.
“The party room. We’re going to empty it, put paneling on the walls and install new lighting.”
Rob muttered something under his breath that Josh ignored.
“Okay, boss,” Chester said with a shrug of his slim shoulders.
“I thought you said we was going to open up the whole first floor,” Rob argued pugnaciously.
“I changed my mind. We’ll ignore the other rooms and concentrate on just one.”
As they left the kitchen and walked to the front of the hotel, Josh knew that he might be making a decision that would backfire. What he had in mind didn’t meet the criteria of completely renovating the hotel. Stacy could pull the rug out from under his idea without even considering it. If she’d made up her mind to leave, that would be it. Still, he couldn’t just let her forfeit her inheritance because her uncle had backed her up against a wall with his deranged museum idea.
IRONICALLY, STACY WAS considering the very thing Josh was anxious about as she took a shower and tried to work up some energy for the day that lay ahead. Stay or leave? In good conscience how could she renovate a whole hotel on the pretext of turning it into Weird Willy’s Museum? But if she vacated the hotel, the lawyer would move quickly to disinherit her, and the property would fall under the jurisdiction of the court. What weighed heavily on her was her concern that Josh would never have closure on his sister’s death if he wasn’t given the chance to prove to himself that he’d done everything to see that justice was done. She was torn in two directions, and her growing attraction to Josh only compounded the impossibility of making a decision.
Quickly, she dressed in denim shorts and a nautical white T-shirt. As she French braided her damp hair, she realized she looked more like a Californian than ever, but at the moment it didn’t seem to matter a whole lot. She felt completely out of place in more than one way.
Josh’s sleeping bag was still spread out on the couch, and when she went into the kitchen, she could tell that he’d left the apartment without even making coffee. Was he uncomfortable about facing her after last night? She touched a hand to her lips and remembered the heat of his kisses. How could she pretend not to be deeply attracted to him? Even now, she missed seeing and being with him. Where’d he disappear to so early? Had he wanted to put off seeing her this morning for as long as possible?
Even as the question crossed her mind, she heard the sound of activity floating up from below. An irrational spurt of annoyance took her by surprise. Last night’s discovery in the attic put everything in limbo. Didn’t he realize she’d have some reservations about going on with the whole absurd project? He had no right deciding to continue the renovation without consulting her.
Fueled with irate energy, she left the apartment, headed down the stairs, and made her way to the front of the hotel. The double d
oors of the party room stood open. Chester and Rob were busy tearing apart a small bandstand, and Josh was on a ladder, nailing a rafter like the one that had nearly fallen on their heads.
Stacy tried to control her sudden flare of anger. It was her decision whether to proceed or call a halt to the whole crazy project. As she marched over to the ladder, she brushed aside the memory of being in his arms. This morning she was his employer, and he damn well better know it.
“May I ask what’s going on?” she asked coldly as she looked up at him.
He gave her that disarming smile of his and laid down his hammer. “Good morning. I didn’t expect you up so early. Have you had breakfast?” he asked as he came down from the ladder.
“No, I was about to fix some when I heard hammering. Did we decide what to do with this room?” Her tone was not one of questioning but accusation.
Burr, he thought. This was going to be harder than he’d expected. He could tell from the deepening blue of her eyes that she was simmering. Chester and Rob had stopped working and were staring at them. Josh wasn’t about to give them a show to watch.
“Stay with it, guys,” he said as he took Stacy’s rigid arm and guided her out of the room. “Why don’t we have some breakfast before we hash this out. Arguing on an empty stomach never did appeal to me.” He glanced at her. “We are going to argue, aren’t we?”
“That depends on whether your plans fit in with mine,” she replied evenly. Stacy had had experience with insubordinates in her marketing job, but none of them had been handsome, virile men whose kisses were as hot as a blue flame.
“Fair enough. Let’s have breakfast at the Pantry and talk it over. I put a new battery in your uncle’s Jeep. We can give it a road test and see what else needs to be done to get it in shape.”
If he hadn’t mentioned the Jeep, she probably would have refused, but the need for getting her own wheels outweighed her irritation.
She nodded. “All right. I’ll go get my purse. You bring it around front.”
Giving him an order seemed to soften her bristling attitude. He hid an amused smile. She looked so damn desirable in her shorts and tight T-shirt that he was tempted to pull her close and kiss her tense but voluptuous mouth. When she walked away, her rounded fanny teased him with tempting lustful thoughts that only meant trouble, and plenty of it.
He gave Chester and Rob instructions and warned them he’d be back by lunch to begin the next phase of the job. He doubted that they’d ever put in a full day’s work for Willard. If Stacy’s uncle had demonstrated his grotesque creatures for them, they knew he was nuttier than a fruitcake and not a boss to take seriously. Undoubtedly, they’d had the run of the place while he was alive.
Josh might have suspected they were responsible for last night’s harassment, but what would be their motivation? If Stacy closed up the hotel, they’d be out of a paycheck.
He brought the Jeep around to the front of the hotel without taking time to unload a bunch of stuff that Willard had left in the back. As Stacy got in, she glanced at the boxes of rusted gears, nuts and bolts and two fairly large white stones.
“Is that marble?” she asked.
“Yeah, there’s a quarry not far from here. Your uncle must have made a trip to Marble, Colorado, at some time. I guess he had some plans to use them for his—his—” he stammered.
“Craziness?” Stacy supplied grimly.
Josh glanced at her ashen face. “I’m sorry about all of this. I know it was a shock.”
“Who would know about those things in the attic?”
“Probably Chester and Rob, and your uncle might have talked about them in town when he was collecting his junk. Or maybe he had someone out to the hotel and even showed them off for his visitor. One thing is sure, someone knew how to turn them on and off.”
“Unless it was Glenda’s ghost,” she heard herself say aloud.
“It was no damn ghost!”
“Do you think it’s the same person who planted Glenda’s ribbons on the staircase?”
“I don’t know what the hell to think.” The fierce expression on his face discouraged her from asking any more questions.
They rode in silence until they reached the café. The minute they walked through the front door, Stacy knew the denim shorts had been a mistake. Alice’s wide eyes traveled up Stacy’s tanned legs and bare arms, and several low whistles came from some of the leering male customers. One grinning cowboy said, “Way to go, Josh.”
Stacy silently bristled. Did these yokels know it was mid-August? This must really be the end of the world if a woman wearing shorts was such a novelty.
“Don’t mind them,” Josh said quickly. “Gawking at you will brighten their whole day.”
They took the same booth they’d had before, and when a hefty waitress took their order, Stacy decided against the Breakfast Bonanza. Her usual breakfast was less than a hundred calories so she settled on coffee, oatmeal and a raisin muffin. Josh ordered ham and eggs, toast and coffee.
Alice was pleasant enough when she stopped by the booth, and smiled at Stacy as if she was sorry that she’d blown off steam the other day. Ted had gone into Denver to bring back some supplies, so Alice was busy keeping everything going, and she didn’t linger at their table.
Josh was glad when she didn’t have time to chat. He was very fond of Alice, but she could be a little over-protective of him at times. He certainly didn’t appreciate her interference when it came to Stacy. It was obvious Alice didn’t think he could hold his own with a city woman.
Josh waited until they were half through their meal before he began the talk he’d been mentally preparing. “I know that you’re not happy with my pushing ahead with the renovation, but, please, hear me out. It came to me that there’s a way for you to fulfil your uncle’s will and still not buy into the absurd stipulation that you renovate the entire hotel to house his ridiculous museum.”
Her steady gaze wasn’t reassuring as she set down her coffee cup and waited for him to continue. Clearly, she’d weigh everything he said against his own personal motive for not wanting her to up and leave before he had a chance to search for answers to Renquist’s disappearance.
“We know that your uncle’s blueprint drawings involve changing the interior of the building into galleries. Now, we know what he planned to exhibit in these galleries.”
The color in her face faded as she nodded.
“All right. If you renovate the party room, which is space enough to display his completed creations, and place a bold sign over the door that says Willard’s Museum, I believe you can convince his lawyer that you have met the terms of your uncle’s will.”
“And leave the rest of the hotel as it is?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Why not? Obviously getting the whole place ready for exhibits that are never going to materialize is ridiculous. I’m betting that one gallery, nicely paneled with raised platforms for displays, fulfills your obligation. We can complete the job in a few weeks. That will give me enough time to search for some reasons and answers about Renquist.”
Stacy turned the argument over in her mind and failed to see any flaw in his reasoning. Simple as the solution was, Josh was probably right. One large gallery would probably meet the letter of the law.
“You can receive your inheritance and go back to California a wealthy lady,” he insisted with more enthusiasm than he felt. Being with her a few weeks out of a lifetime didn’t seem like much when he’d probably never see her again. California wasn’t on his list of places to visit, and it was obvious that she’d already had enough of Timberlane’s provincial lifestyle.
“Okay,” she said, touching a napkin to her lips. “The sooner the better.”
Her briskness denied that she was the same woman who had trembled in his arms and returned his fiery kisses. He’d be surprised if she ever let down her guard again. It was going to be all business from now on. He felt a sudden loss of something he’d never had.
“I made a list this mor
ning of needed materials,” he said, pulling out a slip of paper. “I’ll charge the stuff to me again, and then we can submit the bills for reimbursement. How does that sound?”
“Fine. I need to pick up a few things at the store. I’ll wait there for you.”
“Shouldn’t be more than a half hour.”
They left the café, and he went one way down the block, while she crossed the street, heading for the general store. Abe Jenkins was behind the counter, checking out a couple of customers, when she came in. His thin face broke into a welcoming smile, and his eyes widened as they took in her shorts and summer top.
Ignoring pointed looks from some other shoppers, she picked up a basket and headed for the meager produce department. Faded oranges, nearly black avocados, and wrinkled grapes made her long for California’s fresh produce as she added them to some tired-looking salad makings in her basket.
At the back of her mind was a dialogue she was mentally rehearsing to try on Abe. On her last visit the storekeeper had admitted that he’d been up to the hotel making deliveries. He’d said he had helped her uncle move some things around, and she remembered him adding that they didn’t make much sense.
She had trouble thinking that the pleasant storekeeper might be the one using her uncle’s horrid creations for his own selfish gain—whatever that might be. Still, looks were often deceiving, and behind that good-old-boy friendliness Abe Jenkins might have an ulterior motive for scaring her enough that she’d close up the hotel and head back to California ASAP. There were plenty of colored ribbons in the store, and he could have sold red and purple ones to Glenda on more than one occasion.
Setting her basket of produce on a counter near the checkout stand, she headed for the dry goods department. One of the gray-haired clerks helped her find her size in a pair of western-style jeans, a pair of corduroy slacks and a couple of short-sleeve tailored shirts. She’d put her California white slacks and shorts in storage for the present. After all, when in Rome…
