by Patti Berg
He very much liked what he saw.
“Elizabeth,” he said, catching her attention. She turned slowly, one hand resting on the window frame for support.
“Are you comfortable down there?” she asked lightly, her cheeks flushed from exercise, her smile bright with laughter.
“Just enjoying the view.” He laughed when she rolled her eyes. She said she didn’t care much for compliments, but he had no intention of stopping. “As much as I like watching you work, I think you ought to take a break.”
“Maybe a short one,” she said, stepping down from the ladder. She pulled the Latex gloves from her hands, draped them over a rung, and crossed the room, sitting in a bentwood rocker Jon had brought upstairs earlier.
“Y’know,” he began, “I’ve told you all about Phoebe Carruthers; it seems only fair you should tell me a little about you,”
“I don’t like talking about myself.”
“Then what about your work? What possessed you to give up photography to become an innkeeper?”
She leaned back in the rocker, resting her head against the high back. She closed her eyes and he thought for sure she might fall asleep rather than answer his question. But he waited, and finally she spoke.
“My parents were photographers. They traveled everywhere; they were caught up in social issues and wars. They took horrible pictures of starving families and bombing victims—and I wanted to work with them.”
“Why?”
She opened her eyes again and looked into his. “Not out of some desire to help the world,” she said. “I was a kid. I wanted to have a good time and what was going on in the world didn’t interest me much. But being with my parents did. I saw too little of them, so I picked up a camera and learned everything I could.”
“Did you get to travel with them?”
“No. They went to Northern Ireland and died in a bombing. I never had a chance to go anywhere with them.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
But it still bothered her. He could see the tears in the corners of her eyes. “What made you choose fashion photography?”
“My parents had friends in Los Angeles, and it seemed like a logical place to go when I graduated from high school. I’d been cooped up in all-girl boarding schools most of my life; Eric—my brother—was a few years younger, and he hadn’t had much excitement at school, either. So the moment I graduated, I exercised my newfound parental authority, pulled him out of school, and headed for L.A.”
She closed her eyes again, rocking slowly in the chair. “I met a fashion photographer with a great reputation and asked him for a job. Of course, we had opposite things in mind. He wanted me to model,” she said. The smile was gone from her face when she looked at Jon again. “Does that surprise you?”
“No. You’re tall... you’re beautiful.” “
That’s what he said, too. Of course, just like now, I preferred rich foods to carrots and celery, and I definitely didn’t have a model’s figure. But he changed all that—put me on a starvation diet and trained me how to walk, how to sit, and how to smile. He even wanted to change the way I talked. I lost nearly thirty pounds in less than two months. I had hollow cheeks. I even had protruding hipbones.”
“You weren’t happy though, were you?”
She shook her head. “I made the mistake of falling in love. I would have done anything for him at the time.” She got up from the rocker and fidgeted with the covers on the bed, straightening wrinkles that weren’t really there. “He started using me in a lot of his photo shoots,” she continued, “but I didn’t like the work. I wasn’t happy, and I guess it showed. I couldn’t be what he wanted, even though I tried. A year later I got sick. I was tired all the time—and he got tired of me and moved on to another pretty face.”
She’d changed a lot since then, Jon realized. The Elizabeth sitting in this room would never bend to some man’s will; she had too much drive and spirit. They were two of the things he liked so much about her.
“Did you quit modeling then?” he asked.
She nodded. “I was mad at myself for letting him take advantage of me; and I was mad at him for walking out after all I’d done to please him. I made up my mind I wouldn’t let anyone do that to me again. Lucky for me, I’d always been more interested in what was going on behind the camera than in front, and a lot of people knew It. I took the money I’d made from modeling, bought more camera equipment, and started snapping pictures of some of the people I knew. I shoved my photos in front of every talent scout, every agency. Wasn’t long before I was getting more assignments than my former friend.” She laughed. “He wasn’t happy, but I was.”
“Were you?” Jon asked.
“I made good money. I sent Eric to college. I bought a home that I loved.”
“But were you happy?” Jon prodded.
“I didn’t care much for the people I worked with, and they knew it. I preferred staying at home when I wasn’t working. I collected antiques; I baked and took cooking classes; I even liked to pull weeds and plant flowers.”
He remembered what she’d said about her house collapsing. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it before, maybe she would now. “What happened to your home?”
“An earthquake,” she said flatly, then moved suddenly away from the bed and went back to the window. “Have I told you enough about me?” she asked, pulling the gloves back onto her hands.
“For now.”
She climbed up a few steps on the ladder and looked at him as he rose from his spot on the floor and picked up the mop. “I don’t talk about my life very much,” she said. “I don’t know why I did just now.”
“Because I asked?”
She laughed. “The reason would have to be more compelling than that.”
“Maybe deep down inside you like me and realize I’m a very understanding guy?”
She smiled softly. “Maybe,” she answered, then took the sponge out of the bucket and turned back to the window she’d been washing.
There were no maybes in his mind. He liked her—very, very much.
It must have taken nearly another fifteen minutes of swishing the mop around the floor before he had the parquet cleaned. He was rinsing the mop out when he heard the loud, clanking thud and the splash against the floor. He spun around and caught the sweet sound of Elizabeth’s laughter. She was sopped from shoulder to waist, and the bucket of dirty water that had been sitting on top of the ladder now lay on its side with its contents spilled across the floor he’d just mopped. He laughed at the surprised expression on Elizabeth’s face, but his body tensed the second he caught sight of that red thermal shirt she was wearing, soaked right through, sticking to her like a second skin. He could see every detail of her full, round breasts. And he liked what he saw.
“It’s freezing,” she said, her teeth chattering, her body shivering. There was no doubt at all in Jon’s mind that she was cold, especially with his eyes aimed right at her shirt.
Slowly she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m going downstairs to change,” she said. “Hope you don’t mind cleaning up the mess I just made.”
He shook his head. “I take it you’re not going to keep me company any longer?”
“I don’t think so. I feel like I’ve worked nonstop for one solid week. I don’t tire easily, but all I want to do right now is get out of these wet clothes, build a fire, and kick back.”
“Have dinner with me instead,” he said, and when she didn’t answer immediately, he tried to think of a more compelling reason for her to say yes. “It’s Monday. Libby’s serving up pork chops again.”
“I don’t know, Jon. I really am tired. Could I give you an answer after I’ve cleaned up?”
Women didn’t normally turn down his invitations, but he rather liked the challenge he was facing with Elizabeth. He crossed his hands over the top of the mop handle. “Suit yourself,” he said, and grinned when she rolled her eyes. He wasn’t about to leave the invit
ation open; he wasn’t about to close it, either. The next move was hers.
He could hear those combat boots of hers all the way down the hall and running down the stairs. He could picture that braid of hers swaying to and fro as she moved. He’d watched it off-and on all day, just as he’d watched her hips.
God, she was everything a woman ought to be!
Leave her alone.
He heard it this time. It was real; it was close.
Anger spilled from the depths of Jon’s eyes. He’d been a child the last time he’d let that voice intimidate him. He wouldn’t let it happen again.
“Why don’t you leave me alone instead? And that goes for Elizabeth, too.”
Laughter pealed through the room, bouncing off the walls, echoing through Jon’s ears.
The only fun in this existence is making you miserable. I have no intention of leaving you alone.
“What about Elizabeth? Do you speak to her? Have you shown yourself?”
Elizabeth doesn’t know about me because... because her presence makes me happy. I’ll let her know about me in my own good time. Until then, I’ll annoy you.
“Just make sure you leave her alone. If you hurt her in any way, if you frighten her, I’ll get even.”
That’s impossible.
“I’ll find a way.”
No answer.
“Did you hear me?”
Not a sound came from anywhere in the room. Not a creaking floorboard, not a moan or a groan or a laugh.
Jon felt the tightness in his shoulders, his jaw. He wasn’t afraid now; he was angry.
A loud ring startled him, and he twisted around to the place where the noise came from.
It was only his cell phone. Why did he habitually cart that thing with him wherever he went? It was just as intrusive and just as annoying as that infernal ghost.
“Hello.”
It wasn’t a voice he wanted to hear. He didn't much like the question he was asked, either.
“Yeah, I suppose I can," he answered. "What time?”
He listened again and hung up the phone.
He definitely wouldn’t be spending the evening the way he’d planned.
oOo
Logs crackled on the hearth when Elizabeth walked into the parlor dressed and ready for dinner. She’d made the decision to go just as she was lacing her boots. While she’d bathed, while she’d decided what to wear, she’d tried convincing herself she didn’t enjoy Jon’s company, but she did.
Getting to know him better probably wouldn’t lead anywhere. They were both too strong-willed ever to get along. But she was determined to give it a try if he was.
Dinner tonight had sounded like a good place to begin, so it surprised her to see Jon kneeling before the fireplace, stabbing a long-handled poker at the wood, his face lit by the intensity of the flames.
“Does the fire mean you don’t want a yes answer to your dinner invitation?” she asked.
Slowly he turned toward her, that lopsided grin on his face. “Sorry, Elizabeth. Something else has come up.”
She wasn’t about to let him see her frustration or her annoyance. She definitely wasn’t going to let him see her disappointment.
She put her fingers to her mouth and attempted to stifle an exaggerated yawn. “I was too tired to go out, anyway. I’m glad you’ve, got other plans, after all.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said, rising from the fire. He crossed to the entry, put on his coat and gloves, and pulled his Stetson tight on his head.
“Thanks for helping out today,” she said, opening the door. She didn’t want him to leave, but she didn’t want him to know just how much she wished he could stay.
“Tomorrow I’ll get to the plumbing.”
“You plan to come back?” she asked.
She actually saw a touch of warmth fill his eyes. “I’ll be back,” he said. He reached toward her, cupping her cheek with one gloved hand. “Bright and early tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she somehow managed to utter. She hated the way his hand on her cheek and the closeness of his body were making speech so difficult. If he kissed her, she knew for sure her legs would collapse.
He gently smoothed his gloved fingers over her cheek, just barely touching her earlobe, the hollow beneath her ear. She felt the rough cowhide slide beneath her hair, around her neck. She couldn’t help but move closer, closer, until her breasts pushed against his coat.
She needed no help at all tilting her face toward his. It went there naturally. The warmth in his eyes was flaming now. So were her toes and fingers. She stood on tiptoe; he lowered his head.
And a gust of wind blew through the open door and knocked over the coat rack.
“Hell!” Jon’s temper flared and his head snapped up when the rack hit the floor.
Elizabeth laughed, just as she had the last time they’d attempted a kiss. Maybe it just wasn’t destined. Maybe it was a sign that none of what was happening between them was right.
“You find it funny?” he asked.
“Very. You’re awfully cute when you get frustrated.”
His voice raised. His brows furrowed. “Cute?”
“Cute,” she said flatly. “I suppose no one’s ever called you that before?”
“Not anyone who’s lived to tell about it.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and grinned, mimicking the stance he’d used so often with her when she was frustrated. “I thought you had somewhere to go.”
“Yeah, guess I do.” He tilted his hat against the cold wind blowing outside and closed the door a bit too hard behind him.
Elizabeth laughed again.
And something in the house laughed right along with her.
It’s only the floorboards, she told herself. Only the stretching and groaning of old wood. It wasn’t real laughter. Besides, she was the only one in the house, and she refused to believe in ghosts.
oOo
Twice he’d tried to kiss her; twice he’d failed. Jon’s frustration was outwardly apparent; Elizabeth kept hers bottled up inside, walked into the parlor and flopped onto the chesterfield. She’d missed out on two kisses, and now she was missing out on dinner, too. If she hadn’t been so hesitant about going out, if she hadn’t been so tired, maybe she’d be walking across the street to the Tin Cup Cafe right this very minute.
It seemed to be the story of her life. She’d been hesitant in most relationships. That’s why she remained unmarried at thirty-one. Unmarried and pretty much untouched for over ten years.
She rested her head against the back of the sofa and watched a spider crawl slowly across the ceiling. That poor thing didn’t seem to mind being all alone in this big old place. Maybe she shouldn’t mind, either. But she did.
The loud rapping at the door startled her.
Jon? Had he returned? Had he changed his mind about that engagement that had crept up so unexpectedly? She felt good all of a sudden. She wasn’t going to be alone. Not tonight... not tomorrow, either.
She rushed to the door and threw it open.
“Good evening.” The joyous feeling disappeared with a thud. A black-haired stranger stood before her, looking just as striking as some of the models she’d photographed. He wore black-and-white ostrich-skin boots and a black wool coat tapered perfectly over a tall, slim frame. Pearly white teeth flashed from a perfect smile, and obsidian eyes stared at her through long, thick black lashes.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m Matt Winchester.” He brushed flakes of snow from his shoulders. “Sorry I couldn’t stick around when you arrived last week, but my business dealings keep me on the go most of the time.”
“It’s nice to meet you, finally. Eric’s told me so much about you.” She stepped to one side of the doorway. “Would you like to come in?”
“Actually, I thought it was about time we got to know each other. I was on my way to dinner. Care to join me?”
Why not? She was hungry. She didn’t have any other plans, since Jon Winche
ster had chosen to come up with something else to do at the last minute. And Matt Winchester was gorgeous. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d accepted a date for just those reasons. “I’d love to.”
“I thought we’d drive into Helena. Shouldn’t take much more than an hour to get there.”
Matt’s eyes slowly perused her attire—the combat boots with thick gray socks rolled over the tops, charcoal wool trousers with suspenders that raced over her breasts, and a red cashmere sweater with a cowl collar that nearly swallowed her chin.
She didn’t exactly like the way he stared. His face showed a little distaste. Jon had stared, too, but Jon looked intrigued; he seemed to admire what she wore. Matt seemed appalled.
She came close to changing her mind about dinner. Of course, doing that would leave her alone and lonely again.
She ignored Matt’s perusal, ignored her thoughts, and slipped into her fake-fur parka and red leather gloves, preparing for the blasted cold. She was just about to step out the door when she heard the voice behind her.
Don’t go.
Elizabeth frowned. That didn’t sound like floorboards or window frames. This time, she’d distinctly heard someone speak. She turned around but saw absolutely no one. She looked down at the floor and watched a hint of dust swirl at her feet.
“Something wrong?” Matt asked.
Elizabeth looked at him and smiled. “No. It’s just the floorboards again. You were right when you told Eric they make strange noises.”
He laughed, and she took hold of his arm, prepared to have a good time tonight in spite of Jon Winchester.
oOo
The drive to Helena took less than an hour as they whizzed along the icy roads. Elizabeth gripped the armrests in Matt’s Explorer while he talked about his real estate and outfitting businesses, about his connections with senators and congressmen and other high-level officials who spent time with him hunting mountain lion, antelope, elk, and bear. In that hour Elizabeth rarely spoke except to ask questions, and never to answer any of his. Matt Winchester was, unfortunately, interested only in Matt Winchester.