The Good, The Bad and The Ghostly ((Paranromal Western Romance))

by Keta Diablo

  With head held high, she stood up. As she made her way on unsteady feet across the room, the ghost’s jaw dropped. He seemed very alive for a dead man. But so had the Chinaman in the street earlier in the day. There was something unnatural in the air in the Arizona territory. No wonder the agency did a brisk business out west.

  Other diners were noticing her too, but she would put this insolent ghost back in his place, and then enjoy a good meal.

  She halted in place for a second when the ghost rose to his feet as she reached his table.

  The imposing spook stood over six feet tall. He had on a black suit with a brocade vest of red and yellow design, and a black ribbon tie hung down the front of his white shirt. He had been a handsome man when mortal.

  "Stop staring at me this instant." She hissed the words.

  That knocked the starch right off his face. "You’re not blind?"

  "What? No, I’m not blind! You can talk?"

  An inviting smile replaced the surprise on his face. "You’re not blind. I’m not mute. Would you care to join me?"

  "No, I don’t care to." Now she’d seen her mistake, she felt mortified.

  But he had already pulled out a chair for her and had her by the elbow. Talking to a strange man in a hotel didn’t seem like a good idea.

  "Sit," he said, in a deep, smooth voice. "Please. I was rude and I embarrassed you. Allow me to buy you dinner. I’m Aaron Turrell, by the way."

  His eyes were so dark they were almost black and she couldn’t get a read on him. Healy took off her glasses. He gasped at the same time she did. A strikingly good-looking man stood before her.

  "You shouldn’t hide those eyes behind glasses, girl."

  Suddenly Healy forgot her resolve not to dine with a stranger in a hotel. Her legs folded under her as she took the proffered seat. When he helped settle her chair back in place his arm brushed her shoulder, sending heat right to her stomach.

  The waiter appeared at her vacated table with her dinner. He looked around in confusion. Aaron waved him over before taking his seat again. Another waiter appeared at the same time with Aaron’s dinner.

  Aaron smiled at her with a devilish twinkle in his eyes. "Timely. It’s like we were meant to dine together. I see we’ve both opted for the steak dinner. We’ll have a bottle of wine," he said before the waiter left. "And two glasses."

  She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He had glossy black hair, falling in soft curls to his collar and pushed back behind his ears. A dramatic set of black eyebrows arched over long, slightly slanted dark brown eyes. He needed a shave. The lower half of his face was covered in black stubble. Amid the dark hair, his full mouth looked soft and red.

  He cleared his throat. "Now who’s staring? Let’s do the introductions again. I think you missed your cue. I’m Aaron Turrell, and you are....?"

  "Healy Harrison."

  "Pretty name. Unusual."

  "It’s a family name." And I curse my parents for saddling me with a name nobody gets right.

  "Well, I’m charmed to make your acquaintance, Healy Harrison. Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re pretending to be a blind lady?"

  "I wasn’t...I...it was your assumption I was blind."

  "When I see a lady in dark glasses stumbling around with a cane, blind comes to mind."

  "I have a condition which sometimes makes my eyes sensitive. And I twisted my ankle today, hence the cane."

  Those long, full lips turned down into a frown. "How did you hurt yourself?"

  "I lost my footing coming off a porch."

  "You might want to put that foot up." He pushed the chair out between them, splaying a broad, long-fingered hand on the seat.

  Something about the action and the sound of his seductive voice caused an internal fire in Healy’s belly region. "No, thank you. My feet will stay right here on the floor," she said, in a shaky voice.

  He laughed, showing even, white teeth. "So, I surmise you are a guest of this hotel if you’re dining alone here."

  "I am."

  "What brings you to Tucson? By your accent I place you somewhere in the Midwest."

  "I have business here, and yes, I’m from the Midwest. St. Louis as of late."

  "What sort of business?"

  "I beg your pardon. Why are you asking all the questions? You’re behaving like a detective."

  He arched his eyebrows and gave her a half smile that made her feel weak. "You pegged me."

  He reached into his vest pocket, pulled something out, and placed it on the table between them. Healy recognized the solid silver shield of the Pinkerton Detective Agency without having to read those words engraved on the medal.

  The waiter arrived with the bottle of wine. "I got this," said Aaron to the waiter before the man could reach for her glass.

  Aaron poured the dark, red liquid into a crystal glass. He stopped and looked up at her with one eyebrow raised. She raised one in response. He is most attractive. He poured more into her glass and repeated the pause and eyebrow lift. He has beautiful eyes. I can’t take my eyes off of him. He shrugged and smiled, and then tipped up the bottle, pouring more wine in her glass.

  "I do so enjoy a woman who doesn’t deny herself pleasure." He handed the glass to her, his eyes gleaming.

  Healy tilted her head and gave him the smile she’d seen her mother use to be polite in social situations. What a curious thing to say. I enjoy a man who minds his own business, and yet I don’t feel the need to make an announcement.

  She took her eyes off him to accept the glass of wine, surprised to find it filled to the brim. "Oh!"

  She swallowed a healthy measure of the liquid to bring the contents down to a more manageable level. The rich taste of the red wine instantly soothed. Aaron motioned to the waiter to bring them another bottle.

  "A detective. That must be interesting."

  He regarded her a moment, his eyes gone dark as coals. "It gets real interesting sometimes."

  "And are you here on a case?"

  He sliced a piece of steak and held it up before his mouth. "I’m cooling my heels at the moment. I wrapped up one case, but the boss wants me to hang back here in Tucson until they figure out where to send me next. I’m waiting on that telegram." He slid the morsel of meat into between his lips and chewed, his eyes never leaving her face. "Got some time on my hands."

  Healy looked down, flustered under his direct scrutiny and started working on her own steak.

  "You haven’t told me yet, Miss Healy Harrison, what business does a fine-looking young lady such as yourself have in Tucson?"

  She put her fork down and looked him straight in the eye. "I don’t think I will tell you. You’re the detective. You figure it out."

  A laugh exploded out of his mouth. His eyes crinkled in the most delightful way.

  He rubbed the back of his hand across his chin. "Ain’t you the one? Well, I like a challenge. I will figure out what you’re doing here. I happen to be good at my job, but I might have to spend more time with you."

  They each took up their glasses of wine. Healy almost drained hers.

  "If you’re as good as you think you are, dinner should be enough time," she said, emboldened by the wine.

  He sat back and studied her in a way that made her insides quiver. "Are you at the university?"

  "There’s a university in Tucson?"

  "Yes there is. I take you for an educator."

  She shook her head. "No, I’m not an educator. I’m just well-read."

  "I read a book once."

  "Oh, did you? What book was it?"

  He shrugged. "I don’t remember. Didn’t enjoy it much. More a man of action than a reader, I suppose."

  "I read quite a bit, so I might come off as learned."

  "That’s not what I meant. I mean you have the manner of a schoolmarm. You’re as stiff as a shirt left out on the line too long."

  "Is that one of your charming western colloquialisms?"

  "Collo...what?"

  "Colorful
language. No matter, but I guess you’re from around these parts judging by your accent."

  A cloud passed over his features. "Around and around. No place in particular for long." He brightened up again. "So help me out here. Do you get paid for your activities or are you here on personal business?"

  "I do get paid."

  "Hmmm, a working gal. Do you enjoy your...work?" He cocked one eyebrow at her.

  "I’m proud of the work I do in my profession. It satisfies me to know I bring a great deal of comfort to people."

  "Oh, a profession! Is it one of those newfangled professions cropping up with all this new money floating around?"

  "Oh, no. My profession is very old. There has been need of my services as long as there have been humans on earth."

  He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and his gaze drifted to her chest. She should have been insulted, but instead, she did a most un-Healy-like thing: she arched her back and brought her newly formed assets to attention.

  His chest heaved under his vest. "I hazard a guess you’re adept at your profession. Sounds like you get some satisfaction out of it yourself."

  What is the man implying? "On the whole. Somebody has to do it, and I do have certain talents."

  His eyes went dark again. He took a big gulp of wine. "On the whole? So not everything is to your liking?"

  "There are aspects of my job others might find unsavory. Sometimes I have things forced on me." Like being drugged and transported halfway across the country against my will.

  Aaron frowned. "Nobody should force a lady to do anything she doesn’t want to do."

  "I quite agree." Healy nodded. "I do my best work when I’m allowed to take the lead." Aaron’s fork hit the tablecloth with a soft thud. He seemed at a loss for words.

  "Can you tell me what you were last working on, or is that a secret?" she asked.

  He recovered himself. "I had to track down an outlaw gang. It’s hardly a secret, being in the newspapers and all."

  "By yourself?"

  "No, I was with other detectives and some of the local law."

  "And did you catch the outlaws?"

  "We surely did, captured them alive. Curly took a bullet in the arm but we were lucky this time."

  "You mean there have been times you’ve been unlucky?"

  He smiled at her and refilled her glass. "You’re letting your dinner get cold. Eat up. Remember I’m the detective at the table."

  Healy couldn’t help but break out into a big smile. "You might have a surprise in store for you."

  Aaron leaned across the table. "You do surprise me already. I take back what I said about you being stiff and schoolmarmish. It appears there is more to you than meets the eye."

  "Oh, there is. There really is," she said, leaning in toward him.

  "How about we finish up here and step out together?"

  "Oh, no, I couldn’t do that. I’ve had a very taxing day, and I expect tomorrow will be more grueling. All I want to do after dinner is go to sleep. This is delicious, by the way. Thank you."

  "You’re very welcome, Healy Harrison."

  He’s doing very well with my name. Not everyone gets it right the first time.

  They went back to their plates, but there was tension in the air. Aaron looked as if he was wrestling with his own thoughts and went silent a moment. "Are you working tomorrow? Do you think you could fit in spending time with me?" he asked at last.

  "Yes, I am working tomorrow. One can never predict how long these things take. Sometimes it’s over in a flash. Other times I have to tease things along to conclusion, which can take hours. I’ll likely be tied up most of the day."

  He squirmed in his seat, and his hand went under the table toward the direction of his lap. Probably looking for his napkin. He opened his eyes wide and looked at her. "How about when you get free you look me up here at the hotel? If you’re not worn out, of course."

  Healy put down her silverware and let her eyes drift to the ceiling. "You know what I’d like to do with you?"

  "Oh, lord, do tell."

  "Can you show me around? I’ve never been to Tucson before—never been west of St. Louis, in fact. I’d like to get out and see a thing or two before I leave."

  Aaron looked bewildered, but just when Healy feared she’d been too bold, a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Tell you what. I have to ride south a ways to tie up a loose end. There’s a beautiful mission near there you should see. After that, I’ll bring you back here for dinner, and we’ll see what transpires from there."

  "Do you mean on horseback?"

  "Yes."

  "But, I’ve never done that, and don’t I need a riding outfit?"

  "How about we work out the details tomorrow?"

  Apprehension gnawed around the edges of her mind. Was riding out of town with a stranger the best idea?

  * * *

  It felt like a colony of fire ants had taken up residence in her body the way her muscles, taut with excitement, twitched and refused to settle down. Healy lay with her eyes wide-open thinking about the handsome Aaron Turrell. Her mind and heart raced. She didn’t understand the strange excitement that man caused in her.

  The way he looked with the candlelight playing off his face imprinted his features in her mind’s eye.

  After they’d eaten, she excused herself. Aaron said he had to go out and attend to a few things, which she thought odd, given the hour, but she’d been glad to go back to her room without him knowing which room belonged to her. They’d parted ways in the lobby. When he took her hand and pressed his lips to it, the shock of his rough whiskers on her skin sent a wave of heat to places in her body far removed from her hand.

  When she got back to her room, she wasn’t at all surprised to find a gift for her. In her mind Healy called the bed her magic sleigh. Laid out on the massive sleigh bed was a riding skirt, white blouse, jacket, and boots. The skirt had a row of buttons down the front of each leg, and upon closer examination, she noticed it was cleverly designed. She could unbutton the legs and rebutton them to join the legs and make a full skirt.

  Darkness surrounded her now; she was getting used to the dark and could make out the shapes of furniture. A crack of light showed beneath her door. Sometimes the shadow of feet showed under the door as guests passed her room.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been awake when the pop-pop of gunshots rang out.

  Healy bolted upright and clutched her chest as if she were the target. She heard the return of gunfire from somewhere in the depths of the hotel. Without giving it a thought, Healy slipped into her robe and opened her door to peek out into the well-lit hall.

  The door next to her room swung open and out stepped Aaron, his hair a mass of wild curls. He was fitting the braces of his trousers unto his shoulders, his shirt half in half out of his pants. The buttons of the shirt were open, and Healy caught a glimpse of black hair on a muscular chest and lean stomach.

  When he saw her, he stopped the process of buttoning his shirt and his eyes went wild with astonishment. He grabbed her by the arm and led her back into her room. "What were you thinking?"

  "I heard gunshots."

  "And you thought you’d wander out in your nightgown to investigate?"

  "I don’t know what I thought. I reacted."

  He put his hands on the sides of her face and looked her in the eye. "You stay put. I’m going to go find out what’s going on. I’ll stop by later and let you know."

  He let go of her then, but before going out the door, Healy saw him reach behind his back. When he stepped out into the hall, she saw the revolver in his hand before he closed the door on her.

  Healy turned up the gaslight in her room and waited. Somewhere came shouting. She pulled her robe tight over her heart, but the gunfire had ceased. She suddenly cared very much for Aaron’s Turrell’s safety.

  After what felt like hours, she jumped up when she heard a soft rap on her door. She opened the door to find Aaron leaning on the doorframe. He
stepped inside. "What if it hadn’t been me knocking on your door?"

  "But it was you I was expecting. What was going on?"

  "Couple of drunks got out of hand in the bar. They managed not to damage each other."

  He looked around the room, and then his eyes fixed on her, traveling up and down her length. Healy’s hair flowed loose around her shoulders and she still clutched her red robe over her nightgown. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths.

  "I didn’t know you were right next door to me," she said.

  "I wish I didn’t know that now. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get you out of my mind."

  "I had you on my mind as well."

  With a sound more animal than human, Aaron lunged at her and before she could move, his hands were on her face again, drawing her toward him. His mouth crashed down on hers. The simultaneous feel of his soft lips on hers and the coarse bristle of his beard on her cheek awakened a desire unknown to her. This is what it feels like when a man wants you.

  Her body went weak. Hands moved from her face to her hair, clutching at it with clenched fists. Then he let his touch travel down her shoulders and beyond. He cupped her buttocks through the thin fabric of her gown and robe and pulled her into his hips.

  A throbbing began below her belly. Urges took hold of her body as if it belonged to someone else. Action replaced thought, and Healy dug her hands into the black curls on his head, so much softer than she imagined. She parted her lips, deepening the kiss they were locked in.

  She let him push her hips into his. With a jolt of understanding, she felt him harden against her thigh and realized what poor Mr. Foster’s problem was. She also caught a whiff of cheap perfume coming from Aaron. Have to take care of a few things, indeed!

  Aaron was inching up her gown when she slapped him in the face as hard as she could. The bristle of his face stung her palm.

  He stepped back with his hand on his face, but there was a glint in his eye. "Well, I see I’ve reached the wrong conclusion about your profession."

  Healy took a beat to understand. "You thought I was a...prostitute?"

  "It was my fondest hope that was the case."

  She covered her mouth with her hand. "I’ve never been so insulted in my life!"