скачать книгу бесплатно
Probably just someone who was lost, she thought as the green Jeep Cherokee climbed toward her. Often a motorist got confused and took the spur road instead of following the highway north. Most quickly realized their mistake and backtracked, but a few ended up on the dirt road from town that led to her doorstep.
Kate crossed the porch to wait at the top of the steps. The Jeep came to a halt at the end of the walkway and a tall, dark-haired man climbed out.
“May I help you?” she inquired politely.
“I sure hope so.” He grinned at her over the top of the vehicle. Taking his time, he paused by the Jeep, hands planted on his hips, and drank in the spectacular panorama of snow-capped mountains all around and the picturesque Victorian town nestled in the valley below. When he’d looked his fill, he skirted the vehicle and started up the brick walkway, shaking his head. “Man, that’s some view.”
“Yes, isn’t it.”
Watching the man approach, Kate experienced an odd flutter in the pit of her stomach. With his dark good looks and lean build, the man exuded a potent masculine aura that was palpable even from a distance.
That sexy, loose-limbed saunter alone was enough to raise the coldest woman’s blood pressure. Oh, yes, he was a good-looking devil, she thought as he came to a halt at the foot of the porch steps. His features were strong and beautifully formed, chiseled just enough to save him from being pretty. No doubt he left a trail of palpitating female hearts in his wake wherever he went.
Judging from the way her own was thumping, Kate realized ruefully that she was no more immune than the rest of her sisters. Either that, or she’d been alone far too long.
The man placed one foot on the bottom step, and the faded denim jeans stretched taut over well-defined muscles. Bracing his hand on his thigh, he flashed her a disarming smile. “This is the Alpine Rose Bed-and-Breakfast, I hope?”
“Yes, it is. May I help you with something?”
“I need a place to stay.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid as of yesterday, the Alpine Rose is closed for the winter.”
“You’re kidding. I had no idea you weren’t open year-round.”
“There wouldn’t be much point. Tourists love this area during the other seasons, but since we don’t have a ski resort nearby, our harsh winters tend to keep them away.”
The man sighed and looked out over the town again. Then he turned back to her with a persuasive smile. It was pure practiced charm, Kate knew, but that didn’t stop her heart from giving a little kick when he turned those vivid blue eyes on her.
“Could I perhaps persuade you to make an exception for me?”
“I’m sorry—”
“No, wait. Before you say no, hear me out. I’m not looking for a room for just a night or two. I’d like to book a stay for at least six months.”
“Six months? Oh, I’m sorry, Mr.…”
“Conway. J. T. Conway.”
“Mr. Conway, I’m not running a boarding house. This is a first-class bed and breakfast. The people who stay here usually do so for only a few days.”
“I know, but what’s my alternative? The Miners’ Lodge? I stopped in there and had a look before coming here. No, thanks.”
Kate stared at him. He had her there. She wouldn’t wish that place on anyone. The Miners’ Lodge had been a brothel in the nineteenth century, and other than to change the sheets, she doubted the current owners had done anything to improve the cubbyhole rooms. They ran a pool hall and restaurant and bar in the downstairs. Occasionally they rented out one of the upstairs rooms—mostly to the young crowd who typically stayed in youth hostels. Those who sought elegance, comfort and good food came to the Alpine Rose.
“Mr. Conway, I’m doing you a favor by refusing. The elevation of the town is just over nine thousand feet. Our winters are brutal. We get snowed in for days at a time. Trust me, you would hate it.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully and glanced down at the town. “Does anyone live in Gold Fever during the winter months?”
“Yes. There are about three hundred year-round residents.
“Do you stay through the winter?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m sure I can manage.”
“Mr. Con—”
“You don’t understand, Miss, uh…?”
“Kate Mahoney. I own the Alpine Rose.”
“Well, Miss Mahoney, solitude is exactly what I’m looking for. It won’t bother me a bit to be snowed in. You see, I’m writing a novel set in this area during the gold rush, and I really need to stay here to conduct my research and get the feel of the place.”
“I see. Nevertheless—”
“If you’re worried that I’ll be a lot of trouble, don’t. Most of the time I’ll be in my room writing, or down in town doing research and interviewing the old-timers around here. This is a big house. You won’t even know I’m here. I promise.”
Oh, she’d know he was there, all right, Kate thought. No woman under the age of ninety could fail to be aware of the presence of a man like J.T. Conway under her roof. Her feminine radar would pick him up even if she put him on the third floor in the old servants’ quarters.
Instinct told her that the smart thing would be to refuse his request. The man unsettled her, although she wasn’t sure why. It was more than merely his looks; she’d had good-looking men stay in her home before. But there was something about J. T. Conway…
She had every right to refuse. She needed a rest from looking after guests, and she was looking forward to a period of solitude and self-indulgence. When she had the house to herself she could take long bubble baths and sleep late and run around in sweats and socks and never put on makeup. Shoot, she could run around bare-beamed and buck naked, if she wanted to.
Still, she could use the money. A house as old as this one was constantly in need of repair. And, as he said, it was a big place. How much trouble could one man be?
Sensing that she was weakening, he quickly took advantage. “Look, we can agree on a monthly rate and I’ll pay you the six months rent in advance. It’s yours regardless of whether or not I stay the full six months. How does that sound?”
Six months rent up-front? Kate made a quick calculation in her head, and temptation tugged at her. A few of the rooms could use fresh paint and wallpaper. By next spring the carriage house would need repainting and there were several other repairs she needed to tackle to keep the place in top condition.
She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know,” she said uncertainly.
“And of course I’ll pay extra for the additional meals.”
He named a generous figure, and Kate flashed him an annoyed look. Darn it. He wasn’t playing fair.
“Oh, and if you have any concern about being alone in the house with me for months, you really don’t have to worry. Not that I don’t find you attractive, mind you,” he added with a flirtatious wink. “I do. But I assure you I’ve never forced my attentions on a woman.”
I’ll bet, Kate thought. Men like J. T. Conway didn’t have to. Just the opposite. He probably had to beat women off with a club.
Actually, she hadn’t given a thought to that aspect until he mentioned it. Kate was accustomed to having strangers in her home. However, never anyone for a long period of time.
Kate wasn’t concerned for her safety. She had no illusions about her looks. She knew that she had a delicate sort of beauty that some found appealing, but she was hardly the type to drive a man wild with lust. Of course, some of the men who had stayed at the B&B had made passes at her, but she put a stop to that soon enough. With the married ones, a threat to tell their wives usually did the trick.
What bothered Kate was the gossip J.T. was sure to hear in town. Most of her guests didn’t stay long enough to learn about the scandal or hear the accusations against her and her brother. But if Mr. Conway was going to be around for months, talking to the locals and digging through the town’s old newspaper files, he was certain to find out about the crime.
How would he react? she wondered. With scorn? Or avarice? It was usually one of the two.
J. T. Conway’s opinion of her didn’t matter one way or the other, but she didn’t care for the idea of being cooped up all winter with someone who thought she was a criminal.
“I can give you references if you’d like,” J.T. pressed when she continued to hesitate. “My pastor back in Houston, a retired police detective and former girlfriends. You can call them, ask them anything you want.”
Kate arched one eyebrow. “Former girlfriends? Are you sure you want to risk that?”
His devilish grin flashed again. “I’m on friendly terms with all my ex’s. If you want to call them I’ll be happy to turn over my little black book to you.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Kate gave him a level look. “I have a sturdy lock on my door, Mr. Conway. I also have a pistol, and I’m an excellent markswoman.”
The last statement was a blatant lie. Not only did she not own a hand gun, she’d never touched one in her life. The only weapon she’d ever fired was her father’s old shotgun.
That he remained on friendly terms with his ex-lovers said a lot about his character, but it didn’t hurt for him to believe she could and would defend herself if the need arose.
J.T. did not seem in the least intimidated. He tried to put on a serious face, but laughter twinkled in his eyes, and his mouth twitched suspiciously. “I’ll keep that in mind. So, Miss Mahoney, does this mean you’ll let me stay?”
Kate met his pleading gaze for several seconds. Finally she sighed. “Very well. You can stay.”
Yes! J.T. thought, fighting down the urge to let out a whoop. He was in! First step accomplished.
“Great. You won’t regret it.”
Her dry look told him she wasn’t convinced of that, but she merely turned back to the door. “If you’d like to get your things we’ll go in.”
“Sure thing.” He hurried out to his Jeep and returned moments later carrying a large bag over his shoulder and a case containing his laptop and followed her inside.
“Very nice,” he said, looking around at the impressive entry hall.
“Thank you. The house was built by Elijah Smithson between 1880 and 1883. He was the first prospector in the valley to find gold. As it turned out, his claim was not only the first, it was the richest strike ever made here. Throughout the town’s history, the Shamrock Mine was the largest and most profitable in the valley. Two-thirds of the local miners worked there.”
Amusement tugged at J.T.’s mouth. She sounded like a tour guide. No doubt the spiel was one she gave to all her paying guests. Kate Mahoney was the epitome of the cool, efficient innkeeper—polite and informative, but businesslike. He had a hunch it was a persona she assumed to keep a distance between herself and her guests.
Nice try, honey, he thought with a cynical twist to his mouth. But it’s not going to work with me. Before the winter is over you and I are going to become well acquainted.
“I’m surprised he stayed in such a remote place after striking it rich,” he said to Kate. “Especially if Gold Fever was like most rough-and-ready mining towns of that era.”
“Oh, Mr. Smithson built a mansion in Denver, too, like the other gold tycoons, but he liked to keep a close watch on the mine operation. Personally, I think he also enjoyed being a big fish in a small pond. This house served as a constant reminder to all the locals of his status.”
“Mmm, you’re probably right,” J.T. agreed, arching his neck back to look at the enormous, domed, etched-glass skylight that spilled prisms of light into the foyer. “Why else would he build a place like this and perch it up here where he could look down on everyone else?”
“Yes, I agree. Now if you’ll come with me, I’ll give you a quick tour of the downstairs so you’ll know your way around.”
She led the way down the wide central hallway toward the back of the house. An appreciative smile curved J.T.’s mouth as he watched her thick braid swing against her back and the enticing sway of her gently rounded hips.
As they passed them, Kate gestured toward the two sets of double doors on either side of the hall. “On the left is the guest parlor, on the right the family parlor. Next on the left is the dining room, and across the hall from it is the library. Feel free to use them anytime you like.
“You may even find some valuable research material for your novel in the library. My father was a mining engineer and the superintendent of the Shamrock Mine for years. He was also something of a history buff. All I ask is that you return any books that you use when you’re done.”
“Fair enough. And, thanks. I’ll take you up on that offer.”
A little past the center of the house the hallway came to a T at the base of the massive stairway. Kate gestured to the short hallway on the left. “This leads to the butler’s pantry, downstairs powder room and the servants’ back stairs, but I would prefer that you not use those as they’re narrow and steep. I rather not risk a guest taking a fall.”
“Old Elijah didn’t waste money on niceties for the hired help, huh?” J.T. said with a crooked smile.
“No. Although, I don’t suppose he was any worse than any other wealthy person of that era. In those days there were definite distinctions between the classes. Now, if you’ll follow me, Mr. Conway, we’ll go to my office and get you checked in.”
“The first door is the entrance to the kitchen,” she said in her brisk, tour guide voice as they made their way down the right hallway. “That door at the end of the hall opens to the porte cochere. When it’s snowing you may want to pull your vehicle under there and enter through that way. Here we are.” She opened the last door on the left and led the way inside a comfortable-size room. “This used to be the housekeeper’s room, but I use it as my office now. Please, have a seat, Mr. Conway.”
The formality of registering and paying six months rent in advance took only a few minutes. When they were done, Kate led the way back down the hall to the stairs.
“There is an elevator. It was put in years ago, and it’s pokey, but if you’d prefer to use it we can.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind the stairs.”
At the base, the stairway was at least ten feet wide, with massive, hand-carved newel posts and spindles. Six steps up, at a wide landing, the stairs split and turned at ninety-degree angles, one flight going right, the other left.
Kate took the flight of stairs to the right, continuing her spiel as they climbed, but J.T. listened with only half an ear. He was too busy studying the stained-glass mural that made up the outer wall of the next landing.
It depicted a woman in eighteenth-century dress strolling through a garden, carrying a basket full of freshly cut flowers. J.T. darted a quick look over his shoulder and spotted a companion stained-glass mural on the opposite landing of a gentleman astride a white horse. Light streamed in through both windows, bathing the entire stairwell in shafts of rainbow hues that created an almost surreal atmosphere.
To have the enormous pieces commissioned, then hauled up to this remote mountain town by horse and wagon must have cost old Elijah a mint, J.T. mused in awe, craning his neck for one last look as he followed Kate up the next section of stairs.
“Excluding the servants’ quarters on the third floor, the house has ten bedrooms. I rent eight of them to guests.”
Which leaves one available for your brother whenever he decides to drop in, J.T. thought.
“Originally there were fourteen bedrooms on this floor, but four had to be sacrificed when the house was remodeled around 1910 to add bathrooms.”
“Fourteen bedrooms, huh. That’s a lot, even for a millionaire.”
“Not really. The Smithsons had a large family. There were already three children when the house was built and eight more were born after they moved in.”
Kate stopped outside a door at the end of the hall. “Since you’re the only guest, you may have your choice of rooms, but I think this one will best suit your needs.” Opening the door, she led the way inside.
“As you can see, being a corner room, it is quite large, and there’s a desk in the alcove that you may use. There’s also a private bathroom right through that door. The fixtures are antique but you’ll find the plumbing is sound.”
“I’m sure it’ll do fine.”
Kate stayed just inside the door as J.T. strolled to the center of the room. He looked around, impressed with the room’s size and immaculate condition. Even though heavy emerald-green velvet draped the four tall windows on the two outer walls, plenty of light streamed in through the lace panels that covered the panes.
The cabbage-rose wallpaper and the rose-patterned rug covering most of the oak floor were not to J.T.’s taste, but they were in keeping with the Victorian structure. So was the massive antique furniture. It was all right, he supposed, but not something he’d choose for himself.
Then the bed caught his eye, and he instantly revised his opinion. The thing was magnificent. The mahogany headboard stood at least eight feet tall and the footboard three and a half or four. Both were intricately carved. The mattress looked bigger than the king-size bed he’d just put into storage and was almost as high as his waist. For someone Kate’s size the small set of wooden steps beside the bed would be a necessity.
“Wow. Now that’s what I call a bed.”
“It belonged to Mr. Smithson,” Kate explained. “He was a big man. I believe he had it custom-made. It does have a new mattress, though. I’m sure you’ll find it comfortable.”
“No wonder he had eleven children.” J.T. sent Kate a flirtatious glance and winked. “A bed like that would inspire any man.”
