CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T HOUGH A FEW DRIFTING CLOUDS SIGNALED AN UPCOMING STORM , the sun was bright late the next morning as Cain carried Jenny's overnight bag down the hall to the living room.

After an amazingly satisfying night, they had slept late, then indulged in a round of easy morning sex before showering together and having breakfast in his sitting room.

Cain felt like a million bucks.

He wasn't sure what Jenny felt. The sex had been amazing between them. There was no way to disguise the way she had responded to him. She was nervous this morning, a little shy in the bright light of day. Cain found it charming.

He watched as she pulled out her cell phone and scrolled through her messages. "I have a text from Chief Nolan. The crime scene has been released."

"Back to business as usual," Cain said. But one look at Jenny's face and he wasn't so sure. A man had been murdered—either in self-defense or on purpose—in her hotel. Cain had dealt with death, seen friends die right in front of him when he had been working in the mines. Jenny was already worried about ghosts. Now a flesh-and-blood man had died violently in one of the rooms upstairs at her hotel.

"Someone's coming," she said, as they walked out the front door.

He looked up to see a silver Mercedes coupe turn down the narrow lane and drive toward the house. It took him a moment to recognize the blonde behind the steering wheel—Anna Hobbs Somerset. Damn, he didn't need this today.

"Looks like you have a visitor," Jenny said, her voice a little tight.

Cain flashed her a look. "I didn't invite her. Why don't you wait for me in the truck while I handle this."

"No problem," she said in a way that sent a thread of irritation through him.

Cain opened the door and helped Jenny into the passenger seat of the pickup, then stashed her bag behind the seat. Closing the door a little more firmly than he'd meant to, he walked over to where Anna was pulling the Mercedes to a halt.

She cracked open her door and swung long, shapely legs in a pair of spike heels to the ground as she prepared to get out of the car.

"I wasn't expecting you," Cain said, holding the door in place so she had to stay where she was. "I'm afraid I was just getting ready to leave." He urged her back into her seat and closed the car door, then heard the buzz of the window sliding down.

Anna smiled. "I probably should have called first, but I was out this way visiting a friend. I figured it couldn't hurt to stop by and say hello."

"I appreciate the thought, but as you can see, I already have plans."

Anna's glance flashed toward the pickup.

"When I stopped calling," Cain said, "I figured you'd realize I wasn't interested. I don't want to hurt your feelings, Anna, but that hasn't changed."

Blue fire flashed in the eyes that fixed on his face. "Don't be a fool, Cain. We were always good together, even back in high school. Now that I've inherited the controlling share of the Somerset Bergen Group, a relationship could be extremely beneficial to both of us."

"I'm not interested in your money, Anna." He glanced over to the truck and saw Jenny watching them. Inwardly, he cursed. "Best to let the past stay in the past and get on with our lives."

Anna's gaze returned to the truck. "It's her, isn't it? That little bit of fluff who owns the saloon. I saw you watching her when I was in town a few months back. I know you've been seeing her. I suppose in a town this size, you don't have a whole lot of choice."

Cain bristled.

Anna's smile could have sliced through steel. "I remember her from high school. Shy little thing. She was nothing then, and she's nothing now."

"I think it's time for you to leave."

"She isn't worth it, Cain. Think what the two of us could accomplish together. Surely, you can see I'm right." Anna buzzed her window closed.

Putting the Mercedes in drive, she pulled a little farther down the lane and turned around. The car blew past, throwing up a cloud of dust as Cain walked back to the truck.

He cursed as he slid behind the wheel and closed the door. "With any luck, she won't give us any more trouble."

Jenny adjusted her seat belt. "It's your business," she said.

"Dammit, Anna Hobbs means nothing to me. She never has."

Jenny's eyes met his. "I guess Anna doesn't understand that."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "After the conversation the two of us just had, she damn well better." Cain fired up the engine.

By the time he pulled up in front of the Copper Star an hour later, things seemed to have returned to normal.

"I need to get going," Jenny said a little too brightly, popping open the door as he stepped on the brake and put the truck in park. She reached behind the seat and grabbed her overnight bag, looked up at him, and smiled. "Thanks for everything. I really enjoyed myself."

At her fake smile and abrupt departure, irritation filtered through him. "Did you?" He let his gaze roam over her suggestively. "I did my best to make sure of that."

Jenny's cheeks turned pink, but her smile remained in place.

"The ranch is beautiful. You were right—I needed to get away. Thanks again."

He'd been brushed off by women before, but it had never bothered him. It bothered him now. "So that's it? We're done?"

"Of course not. I'll see you over at the Grandview. I still have plenty of work to do." Jenny turned to leave as Cain stepped down from the driver's seat. He slammed the door and caught up with her just as she reached the entrance.

Catching her shoulder, he turned her to face him. "We aren't done yet," he said. "Not even close. I thought you'd figured that out after your fourth or fifth orgasm."

Her cheeks flushed pink. She glanced wildly around to see if anyone was listening, then pulled him out of the way around the corner as a man and a woman walked past them into the saloon.

"It was fun," she said, her lips still curved. "But I'm sure you have more important things to do than squire me around the country."

His eyes narrowed. He studied the smile plastered on her face, and suddenly he understood.

"You're afraid. That's what this is. I didn't think you were afraid of anything. Not bikers, not ghosts, not even murder on your doorstep."

When she tried to glance away, Cain caught her chin, tilted her face up, and brushed a kiss over her lips. "I'll pick you up after work, and we'll have dinner in my suite at the Grandview."

"I don't . . . I don't think that's a good idea."

"Well, I think it's a great idea. You wanted a man, Jenny. Well, now you have one. We're going to see how this works out." For several long seconds, he just stood there waiting.

Slowly, a warm, sincere smile curved her lips. "Okay, then. I guess I'll see you tonight."

Cain relaxed. He hadn't realized how important her answer was. "Will you be finished by six?"

"Seven would be better."

"Seven, then. I'll be here to get you." Turning, he walked back to his truck.

Women , he thought. But this one continued to intrigue him. No way was he ready to let her go.

* * *

The hotel was running smoothly. The police had released the crime scene, and while Jenny was away, Heather had taken it upon herself to clean up the bloody mess in room 10. The girl had spunk, that was for sure.

"Thank you for doing that," Jenny said to her. "I didn't expect it. I wouldn't ask you to do something I would have trouble doing myself."

Heather just shrugged. "Everyone sort of pitched in. The room seems pretty normal, but if you look hard enough, there are still some dark spots we couldn't get out of the carpet."

Jenny swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. "I'll have to have it replaced before we rent the room out again." She didn't want to spend the money, but she didn't feel comfortable having guests stay in a room where a murder had been committed, not until it had been completely redone. "Thanks for going the extra mile."

"No problem." Smoothing back her pink-streaked, dark hair, Heather returned to her desk in the lobby, and Jenny went to work. First, she checked on the kitchen, taking time to talk to Myrna to see if there was anything she needed. Then she spoke to the servers, Cassie and Molly.

Troy was in the bar, getting ready for the weekend onslaught. Friday nights were always busy, with people off work and ready to relax.

Troy was using a clean, white dishtowel to dry a stack of freshly washed glasses as she approached.

"Looks like you have things under control," Jenny said.

Troy smiled. "You know me. Nothing but work, work, work."

Not quite, but he did his share. "With any luck, the weekend will go smoother than the last few days."

"With any luck," he repeated, stacking the glasses on a shelf.

Satisfied that things were running as they should, Jenny headed for the office, passing the part-time bookkeeper on her way out.

"Everything's almost up to date," Betty said. "I'll be back in for a couple of hours on Monday to finish up."

"Great, thanks." Jenny shut the office door and sat down at her desk. The computer was humming. She brought up Google Chrome on the screen, finally getting a chance to research the round sphere of blinding white that people called an orb.

A list of articles popped right up. Ghost Orbs Caught On Camera. Another link read Video Shared on Internet Ignites Paranormal Debate.

Jenny clicked on that one and viewed the footage, which showed a strange white circle of light, but it looked different from the orb she had seen.

She tried another link. Ring Camera Reveals Paranormal Orb. That one was outside, just below the roof of a porch. It was white, but it could have been some kind of reflection.

Another piece of video taken by a camera inside the living room of a retired police officer's home didn't look quite right, but clearly orb sightings of different kinds weren't uncommon.

She clicked on an article entitled What Is an Orb? and started reading.

Orbs are thought to be energy that can be seen by the naked eye. A true orb doesn't have the spokes of light caused by a reflection, like a camera lens, the glass in a window, or just dust in the air. White orbs are usually thought to be positive energy, but they can also be an indication of a spirit that is trapped on an earthly plane where it doesn't belong.

A chill slipped through her. A spirit trapped on an earthly plane. Was that possible?

Typically, orbs are seen at night in places where paranormal phenomena have been reported; the site of a sudden violent death; or places where many deaths have occurred.

The chill was back. One thing she knew about Jerome—in the town's unruly past, sudden, violent death had been common, and a large number of people had died. There were deaths in the mining tunnels, in the fires that had rampaged through the city, in arguments that got out of hand. And murder.

Though the Copper Star was built of stone and had managed to survive four separate blazes, undoubtedly a number of deaths had occurred in the hotel.

She glanced up at the molded tin ceiling, thinking of the couple in the room in the new section, an idea forming in the back of her mind.

For years, the hotel had kept journals that guests could fill out, brief notes or paragraphs about their stay. It was an old tradition, until Uncle Charlie had stopped it a few years back. The journals made him uneasy. He didn't like the idea of the Copper Star being described as haunted.

But he hadn't tossed out the journals.

Sitting at her desk, she tried to recall where her uncle had stashed them, rose from her chair, and walked over to the old wooden cupboard against the wall. Drawers formed the lower half. Two wide doors closed the top half of the cabinet. Jenny opened the double doors to see stacks of old papers, faded hotel notepads, and bookkeeping ledgers from fifty years back, stuff she still needed to sort through.

She found the leather-covered journals stacked on a shelf beneath a pile of yellowed newspapers.

Jenny opened the journal on top, saw the date finely scrolled in blue ink, quickly opened each of the journals in the stack, and began putting them in order by year. From the dates, it was apparent the guest-book tradition had started after the Copper Star had been remodeled in the late 1990s.

In the years before that, what had been a luxury hotel back in Jerome's heyday wasn't much more than a flophouse where rooms could be rented by the hour, day, week, or month.

Since the town's rebirth in the 1960s, legends of ghostly hauntings had been growing, attracting visitors, a way to get the struggling community back on its feet.

The journals helped grow the legends. People enjoyed writing down their experiences. Whether they were true or not didn't seem to matter. For years, the journals had been kept in the hotel lobby, to be added onto or read by visitors.

Jenny thought of the man who had been killed in the room upstairs. When guests recorded their eerie experiences, they often mentioned the room number in which they had spent the night. She started skimming the pages, looking for descriptions of paranormal phenomena, particularly happenings in what was now the new section, the rooms Uncle Charlie had closed off.

Specifically room 10.