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To his amusement, the talk of beds seemed to make her uncomfortable. Color bloomed in her cheeks, though she held her head high and pretended to be unaffected.
“The closet is small, I’m afraid. They were added at the same time as the bathrooms, but between it and the armoire, I think you’ll have adequate space for your clothes.”
“I’m sure they’ll do fine.” He watched her fidget and struggle to cover her discomfort. Well, well, well. So Ms. Kate Mahoney was uncomfortable with the subject of sex, was she? Now that was a puzzle worth looking into.
He judged her to be in her late twenties. Most women her age were experienced and worldly and would have barely noticed the mild innuendo.
“Good. Then I’ll leave you to get settled.” She started to leave, then turned back. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Conway—”
“Please, call me J.T. We’re going to be sharing this house for the next six months, so I think we can dispense with formality, don’t you?” he said, giving her a coaxing smile.
An appalled look flashed over her face before she could control it. Obviously, the lady would prefer to keep a safe distance between them. The question was, why?
J.T. watched her frantically grope for a reason to refuse the suggestion and saw the instant when she realized there was nothing she could say without sounding like a stiff-necked prig. “Very well. If you insist.”
“As I was about to say, meals are served in the dining room. Breakfast is at eight, lunch at one and dinner at seven.”
“Okay. But if I don’t show up, go ahead without me. When I’m working and it’s going well, I don’t stop for anything.”
“But, you have to eat.…”
“Don’t worry about me. Just stick whatever you’ve prepared in the fridge and I’ll zap it in the microwave later.”
Kate looked horrified by the suggestion. He watched her struggle with the idea, but finally she nodded. “Very well,” she said, making no attempt to hide her disapproval. “If that’s what you wish.”
She turned again to leave, but he stopped her.
“Actually, I don’t like to be disturbed at anytime when I’m working. So if the sign is out,” he said, pointing to the small needlepoint Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the inside doorknob, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t knock on my door except in case of an emergency.”
“I clean the room every morning. How am I supposed to do that if I can’t get inside?”
“Don’t worry about it. I sure won’t. You can muck out when I come up for air.”
“Mr. Con—” One of J.T.’s eyebrows shot skyward, and she grimaced. “That is…J.T., the Alpine Rose has built a reputation on excellent service, good food and spotless accommodations. Guests don’t “zap” their own food nor are rooms allowed to get into a state where they require ‘mucking out.”’
“Don’t worry, your reputation is safe. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
She didn’t look pleased, but after a moment she sighed. “Very well, if you insist. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
When she had gone, J.T. stared at the closed door, his expression thoughtful. Kate Mahoney was not at all what he had expected.
His mouth twisted ruefully the instant the thought ran through his mind. He wasn’t supposed to “expect” anything. He was a reporter. He was supposed to approach an investigative assignment unbiased, with no preconceived ideas or opinions. True, he wasn’t there to get a story, but he wanted to apply the same fairness.
The trouble was he was finding it wasn’t quite so easy to hold to that ethical standard when the matter was personal.
J.T. sighed and raked his hand through his hair. No matter how hard he’d tried to keep an open mind, the implication in that Internet message kept eating at him. Just the idea that a brother of his might be involved in something illegal colored his thinking—not only about Zach Mahoney, but Zach’s adopted sister, as well.
Because of that message, J.T. had been prepared to meet someone more hard edged and worldly, not a soft, fragile-looking beauty like Kate.
She wasn’t his type, of course. He preferred feisty, vibrant women with vivacious personalities—women like his new sister-in-law, Maude Ann. Looking into Kate Mahoney’s calm gray eyes was like gazing into the cool depths of a mountain lake. With her blond hair and pale coloring, she reminded him of the delicate angel his mother used to put on top of their Christmas tree every year—exquisite to look at, but untouchable.
Yet there was something about her that played havoc with his libido. The instant he’d gotten a good look at her, he’d felt as though he’d received a sharp blow to the gut.
Strangely, her quiet reserve intrigued him. She didn’t appear to be shy, exactly. She hadn’t seemed in the least timorous or skittish. A wry smile twitched his mouth. That is, not until he’d made that crack about the bed. She’d been calm and businesslike, her gaze direct and unflinching. No, he had a feeling her reserve had more to do with wariness than timidity.
The question was, what was the cause? Guilt? An innately suspicious nature? Or past mistreatment?
J.T. gazed at the bed once again. He pictured Kate lying there, those solemn gray eyes glowing with warmth, that tender mouth parted in a temptress’s smile, her long hair an unbound tangle around her face.
The tidy French braid that hung down her back was as thick as his wrist and the color of ripe wheat. The whole time he’d talked to her his fingers had itched to unwind that plait, run his fingers through the silky strands, see that glorious mane spread out on his pillow like liquid gold.
He shook his head. “Don’t be a fool, Conway,” he cautioned himself. “The lady may look like an angel, but for all you know she could be a crook, so don’t go getting any amorous ideas.”
J.T. wandered over to one of the windows and pulled back a lace panel. The sun had already dropped behind the mountains, casting long purple shadows over the town below. Here and there lights were beginning to flicker on.
Gold Fever, with its false-front buildings and fancy Victorian architecture, looked quaint and picturesque, like a scene on a Christmas card—idyllic, peaceful, free from troubles and the normal human failings and vices.
But J.T. had learned that things were seldom as they seemed, that people—even the best of them—harbored dark secrets. He also knew that, human nature being what it was, there was always someone anxious to talk about them.
Chapter Three
The telephone started ringing as Kate reached the bottom of the stairs. Taking the shortcut through the butler’s pantry, she darted into the kitchen and snatched the receiver from the wall phone. “Alpine Rose Bed-and-Breakfast. How may I help you?”
“Well? How does it feel to be a lady of leisure?”
“Zach! It’s so good to hear from you. And I was feeling really great while it lasted, but as of about a half hour ago, I have a guest who is staying through the winter.” Briefly she filled him in on how J. T. Conway had talked her into letting him stay, but when she was done, Zach was not pleased.
“Dammit, Sis, I don’t think it’s a good idea to let a strange man stay there with you all winter long.”
“Zach, strange men stay here all the time,” she chided.
“It’s one thing to have single men staying there during tourist season when there are other guests around. It’s something else to be all alone with one for months. You could get snowed in with this guy. What if he turns out to be a rapists or pervert or a serial killer?”
“Zach, I’ll be fine. Mr. Conway is a nice man. I’m sure he’s harmless,” she said with long-suffering patience. She wasn’t about to admit to Zach that on some basic man-woman level J.T. made her antsy. She adored her brother, but he had a tendency to be overprotective where she was concerned.
While she didn’t believe for a moment that J.T. posed a threat to her safety, Kate knew perfectly well that men like J. T. Conway exuded a sexual magnetism that played havoc with a woman’s heart and common sense—even a practical woman like herself—but she resolutely pushed that unsettling thought aside. She could not afford to give in to Zach on this. The man would wrap her in cotton wool if she didn’t stand up to him.
“How old is this guy?”
“Well I wasn’t so rude as to ask him such a personal question, but he appears to be about your age.”
“My age! Trust me. He’s not harmless.”
Kate laughed. “And what, dear brother, does that say about you? Hmm?”
“That I’m a normal, red-blooded male. And unless this Conway guy is a total nerd or a freak, so is he. Which is why I want you to give him his money back and send him on his way.”
J. T. Conway? A nerd? Or a freak? Hardly. Laughing, Kate refused, and they argued for a few minutes more. She insisted that all she had to do was keep her distance and treat J.T. as she would any other guest, and she’d be fine. “Besides,” she added, “In a year or two the house will need a new roof. The Alpine Rose is doing all right, financially, but a major capital expenditure like that will stretch the budget thinner than I’d like. Now the extra money has been dropped into my lap like a gift. It would be stupid to turn it down.”
Zach cursed and raged, but in the end he had no choice but to accept her decision.
When they said goodbye, Kate headed out the back door, grabbing a battered pea jacket that belonged to Zach from the rack on the service porch. The sun had already dropped behind the mountains, but twilight lingered a long time in the high country. It would be an hour or so before full darkness descended, and she had too much to do to waste time.
She marched up the incline to the old carriage house that was now a combination garage and toolshed. Ten minutes later, wearing a pair of work gloves and the oversize coat with the collar turned up against the biting wind, she loaded compost into a wheelbarrow and pushed the unwieldy thing around to the front of the house.
Kate had spread most of the load onto the beds when J.T. came out the door to retrieve more items from his vehicle.
He smiled when he spotted her and called, “That looks like hard work. Need some help?”
It had been so long since anyone other than Zach had offered to help Kate in any way that she was taken aback. For a second she could only stare at him. Then she gave herself a mental shake and scooped up another shovelful of compost from the wheelbarrow. “Thank you, no. I can manage.”
Nice as it would be to have help, she couldn’t possibly accept. He was a guest, after all, not a friend or a hired hand. One, furthermore, from whom she intended to keep her distance. She couldn’t very well do that and accept favors from the man.
Besides, as she’d told him, she could manage. She’d run this place with no help from anyone for four years, hadn’t she?
“You sure? I don’t mind. I’ve been driving for days. Physical activity is just what I need to work out the kinks.”
“Thank you, but no.”
J.T. shrugged. “Okay. Suit yourself.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kate watched him lope down the steps and stride out to his Jeep. When he lifted the rear cargo door and bent over to pull out two cases, her gaze was drawn to his backside. Helplessly she noted how the faded jeans molded that firm flesh, and experienced an odd pressure in her chest.
She forced her gaze upward, but that was no help. Beneath the dark pullover, the muscles in his back and broad shoulders bunched and rippled as he easily hefted the cases out and headed back up the walk.
“If you’d like, you can park your car under the porte cochere,” she called to him as he climbed the front steps. “It’s more convenient than the garage in bad weather. That’s a distance beyond the house and I keep it locked all the time, but if you prefer to garage your Jeep I’ll get you a key.”
“The porte cochere will do fine. Thanks.”
J.T. made several more trips to the car and back. Each time Kate tried not to look at him, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. There was something about that devilish smile and chiseled good looks and that drew the eyes like steel shavings to a magnet. That killer body and easy, hip-rolling saunter didn’t hurt any, either, she admitted ruefully.
Feeling foolish, Kate attacked her work with renewed vigor when he drove the Jeep around to the side under the porte cochere and disappeared inside for the last time. “If you don’t get a grip, my girl, it’s going to be a long six months,” she muttered, stabbing the blade of the shovel into the pile of compost.
Full darkness had fallen, and she was working by the dim glow of the front porch light by the time she finished. Already the temperature had dropped to a bone-chilling level. Exertion had kept Kate warm while she worked, but when she paused to rest a moment and arch her back, the cold seeped in, and a hard shiver rippled through her. With an exhausted sigh, she trundled the empty wheelbarrow and shovel around the house and back up the incline to the garage. When they were stored, she padlocked the garage and hurried to the house.
An hour later, showered and dressed in a navy turtleneck sweater and gray wool slacks, Kate stepped out of her room and headed for the stairs.
Her room was on the same side of the house as J.T.’s, but at the opposite end of the long hall, overlooking the back terrace and outbuildings.
At the head of the stairs Kate paused and glanced toward J.T.’s room. Wall sconces cast dim pools of light at intervals along the corridor, but there were no signs of life from that end, no sounds, no light coming from under his door.
Had he fallen asleep? she wondered. Or had he gone out?
The last thought brought an uneasy tightness to her chest, but she ignored it and continued down the stairs.
Reaching the first floor, Kate noticed light spilling from the library and heard the soft rustle of paper. She found J.T. sitting at her father’s desk, poring over a book and scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad.
The desk lamp cast his strong features in planes of light and shadows. The sleeves of his pullover were pushed up, exposing muscular forearms covered with a dusting of short, dark hair. Around his neck he wore a silver chain, but it disappeared beneath his sweater to nestle in the dark thatch that peeked out of the V neck of the garment. His shoulders were broad and his brown hair slightly mussed where he’d unconsciously winnowed his fingers through it as he read.
He was utterly masculine and appealing. More than any man had a right to be, Kate decided.
J.T. was so engrossed in the book he didn’t notice her standing in the doorway. She debated whether or not to say something or clear her throat to get his attention, but in the end she left him to his work and went to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.
Half an hour later, steaming biscuits and the stew that had been simmering all day in the slow cooker sat on a warming tray on the buffet and a place had been set for J.T. at the dining table. Kate lingered in the dining room to make sure he had everything he needed before returning to the kitchen, but when he hadn’t shown up by ten after seven she went back to the library.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but dinner is ready,” she said quietly from the doorway.
He looked up and blinked at her, like someone coming out of a daze. “What?”
“Dinner. It’s on the buffet in the dining room. You can help yourself.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Dinner. Be right there,” he said in a distracted voice, but even before the words were out of his mouth his attention reverted to the book.
Kate waited, watching him, but he made no effort to move. She doubted he even realized that she was still there. Finally she shook her head and left.
Minutes later he looked up, startled, when she returned and placed a tray on the desk beside his elbow. “What’s this?”
“Your dinner. Normally I only serve meals in the dining room, but since you obviously can’t tear yourself away from whatever you’re reading, I’m making an exception this once.”
He grinned as she poured iced tea from a small pitcher and adjusted the dishes and silverware just so on the lacy placemat. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. Well, not much, anyway.” Kate moved the tiny individual salt and pepper shakers closer to his bowl, and stepped back, then darted forward again to smooth out a fold in the napkin. “I couldn’t very well let you go hungry.”
He seemed to find her nervous perfectionism amusing. The corners of his mouth twitched, and his eyes twinkled at her. “I appreciate that.”
“Yes, well, you’d better eat before it gets cold.”
Obediently he took a bite of stew, and his eyes widened. “Oh, man, this is delicious. I think I’m in love.”
Before she realized his intent, he grabbed her hand and pressed it to his cheek. His skin was warm and his five-o’clock shadow prickled against her palm. A wave of heat raced up her arm, making the fine hairs there stand on end.
“Now that I’ve tasted your cooking, you have to marry me, Katy,” he declared solemnly, rubbing his bristly cheek against her palm. “I’ll die of starvation if you don’t. You’ve ruined me for ordinary food.”
Flustered, but determined to maintain her dignity, Kate pulled her hand free and eyed him coolly. “I doubt that. It’s just a simple stew.”
“Not to a bachelor who’s used to eating TV dinners or restaurant food. The only thing that would make this meal better is a little company. Why don’t you pull up a chair and join me?”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve already eaten,” she lied, backing away. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your research. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to clean the kitchen and call it a day. Please feel free to work in here as long as you like. All I ask is that you put your dishes in the sink and turn out the lights when you’re done.” Not quite able to meet those laughing eyes, she bade him good-night and turned to leave.
“Night, Katy.”
Kate ground her teeth. She had intended to make a quick exit, but at the door she turned and fixed him with a stern look. “My name is Kate. Not Katy. I hate to be called Katy.”
J.T. threw back his head and laughed, a rich, robust sound that sent a tingle down her spine. “I’ll remember that.”
The next morning J.T. was halfway down the stairs when he caught a whiff of fresh-brewed coffee. In desperate need of a jolt of caffeine, he picked up speed and followed the aroma trail like a bloodhound.
His nose led him to the dining room. A warming tray on the sideboard held several covered dishes, but it was the coffeepot that caught his eye the instant he stepped through the doorway.
