CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

C AIN ARRIVED AT THE C OPPER S TAR A LITTLE EARLY . H E COULD use a beer, and after spending the day indoors, working with Jake Fellows and his construction crew, then going over last-minute changes with Millicent Beauchamp, he was way past ready to escape.

He settled himself on a barstool, and Troy Layton, the bartender, approached.

"What'll it be?" Troy asked.

"Sam Adams. Draft."

"Coming right up."

Troy's wheat-blond hair gleamed in the light of the neon beer signs behind the bar. He was tall and lanky, good-looking and clearly in good physical condition. He acted as if he was God's gift to the women who hung around the bar. As long as he did a good job for Jenny, Cain didn't care.

As Troy drew him a beer, Cain glanced around but didn't see Jenny. He took a long swallow of the ice-cold beer.

Troy stood a few feet away, mopping a spill on top of the bar. "If you're looking for Jenny, she's in the kitchen."

Cain made no reply, just quietly sipped his drink, enjoying a moment of end-of-the-day relaxation. When a blood-curdling scream came from the kitchen, he was on his feet and striding in that direction.

Troy was just ahead of him. "What's going on?" Troy demanded of the cook, who was hurrying toward a set of stairs in the back of the room.

"Where's Jenny?" Cain asked, as the cook rushed past.

"She went down to the basement."

Worry tightened the muscles across his shoulders. Cain started toward the stairs just as he spotted Jenny's head coming up. He breathed a sigh of relief. Until he saw the bleached color of her face.

"What the hell happened?"

She looked up at him. "Snakes."

"Holy shit," Troy said.

As she reached him, Cain gripped her arm. "Are you hurt? Did you get bitten?" He could feel her trembling, but Jenny shook her head.

"I'm okay, but there's a nest of rattlesnakes under the stairs. I can't imagine how they got there."

Unease trickled through him. Neither could he. Cain took her hand and led her a few feet away. "You sure you're not hurt?"

Jenny took a steadying breath. "Scared the crap out of me, but I'm okay." She raked back her curly hair. "I need to find someone who can deal with the problem. The fire department, do you think?"

Cain glanced over at Troy. "Let's take a look."

Troy shook his head. "Not me. I hate snakes."

"I'll go with you." It was a black-haired guy in his thirties who'd followed them in from the bar. Cain had met him in there once.

"Marco, right?"

"That's right. Marco Bandini. My wife and I own the sandwich shop down the street."

"Cain Barrett." Cain shook Marco's hand and turned to Jenny. "You got a couple of flashlights?"

"The overhead fluorescents are on down there, but it's dark in the corners. I'll get you some lights."

Armed with flashlights and a couple of long wooden sticks the busboy had rounded up from the alley, they headed down the basement stairs. Cain paused before he reached the bottom and shined the flashlight around, searching the shadows in the darkness.

Just out of the sight in a corner next to the staircase, a mass of writhing, hissing rattlesnakes spit their forked tongues in Cain's direction. The deadly buzz of their rattles made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"Jesus," Marco said. "Looks like there's at least four of them. Hard to tell the way they keep curling over and under themselves."

In Cain's opinion, four rattlesnakes were more than enough.

Marco prodded them a couple of times with his stick. "These guys are big. I used to wrangle them when I was a kid, but we need the right equipment." He led the way back up the stairs to the kitchen.

"We need the right gear," Marco said to Jenny. "I might have something in my garage, but it could take me a while to find it."

"I called the fire department," she said. "They have what they call snake-catching equipment. A couple of the guys will be right over."

"Sounds good to me," Marco said.

"Me, too," Cain agreed.

Half an hour later, the firemen used long poles with a hooklike device on the end to lift the snakes out of the pile, one at a time, and place them in burlap bags. Then they loaded them into the back of a pickup for a trip into the desert.

As soon as the firemen had left and the noise had quieted, the bar began to return to normal. People here were used to seeing rattlesnakes, just not that many in one place and not inside a building.

Standing next to him, Jenny surveyed the after-work crowd filling the tables. The country singer, a guy named Cody Reynolds, was setting up to play on the small stage in the corner.

"First murder, now snakes," Jenny said. "Around here, the fun just never stops."

Cain didn't see any humor in the situation. Not when he thought about the deadly serpents in the basement and what might have happened. "You ready to go?"

She nodded. "I'm ready."

"Where's your bag?"

Her gaze fixed on his. "I wasn't sure I needed one."

"I want you to spend the night, if that's what you're asking." Especially after what had just occurred. Too much was happening, too many dangerous things. He wanted to keep Jenny as close as possible.

"Okay, I'll get my overnight bag." She smiled warmly and something expanded in his chest. He walked her to the foot of the stairs in the lobby, then waited for her return.

He thought about the snakes. Perhaps it was just coincidence. They say bad things come in threes.

Cain wasn't a big believer.

* * *

Jenny had supper in Cain's suite. Opal had been cooking for the construction guys, who were working late to get the job done on time. She'd made beef stew, served it with a loaf of crusty bread, and baked an apple pie.

Cain found their supper foil-wrapped on a tray in the oven and carried it upstairs, along with flatware and napkins.

The hotel was getting closer to completion. A lot had been done to the suite in the past several days. Jenny could see her influence in the décor, small touches she had suggested to Millicent, who had actually liked the ideas and placed the orders. The caramel-leather sofa had been brightened with earth-toned Southwest colors. There were Indian rugs and pillows that picked up the same warm tones, items she had found in one of the shops on Main Street. Another shop had provided lamps of polished wood inlaid with turquois, covered with leather shades the color of the sofa.

"I think this suits you," Jenny said, as she glanced around. "What do you think?"

"I like it. It would have been just a place to stay before. Now it feels like an extension of the ranch, part of my home."

Jenny smiled, glad he approved. "It does, and yet it has a slightly more modern feel that makes it unique. I think Millicent is doing a good job."

"Better because of your input. I'm really glad I hired you."

Her smile fell away. "I shouldn't be sleeping with you. It's not professional."

Cain walked over and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her, long and deep, then lifted her chin with his fingers. "Things happen. The way we handle them is what makes life interesting."

His gaze roamed over her, and she didn't miss the hunger. "You're right," he added, knowing she had read his thoughts. "That's exactly what I'm thinking, but it's been a long day, and I'm sure you're starving."

She was, but not for food. Cain was uncovering an unknown part of her. She was becoming addicted to the things he could make her feel, the kind of pleasure she hadn't believed was real.

Cain went to the bar, opened a bottle of Cabernet, and poured them each a glass. They sat down to eat in front of a live-edge coffee table made from a thick slab of polished wood that complemented the lamps and leather sofa.

"Millie's putting the same kind of table by the window," Cain said. "With four leather chairs. Should make a nice eating area."

"Sounds perfect." Even if Millicent had her sights set on Cain, it didn't make her any less proficient at her job.

"So, aside from wrangling snakes, what did you do today?" he asked, digging into his stew.

Jenny swallowed the bite she had taken, which was delicious. "All the usual stuff, but I managed to carve out a little time to start going through the old hotel journals."

He took a sip of wine. "What kind of journals?"

"We don't use them anymore, but in the past, guests could write their experiences in a leather-bound volume we kept on the front desk in the lobby. You wouldn't believe some of the stories I read."

"Ghost stories?"

"Some were complaints about things guests didn't like about their stay in the hotel. The toilet in room three ran all night. The shower dripped. The music in the bar was too loud—stuff like that."

"Sounds like the usual complaints every hotel deals with."

"Some of it was. But the idea of the journals was to write down any interesting experiences the guests might have had during their stay. Paranormal stuff, you know? Some of the stories were really creepy, and a lot of them were repeated over the years."

He tore off a crusty piece of bread. "Such as?"

"Accounts of a ghost cat. Apparently, the hotel has a resident ghost who's a cat. People felt the cat rubbing against their legs. They found paw prints on the furniture when there was no cat in the room."

"That's definitely creative."

"There were also children's handprints on the windows. This was reported several times. It seemed to happen every year."

Clearly interested, Cain listened as he ate his stew. "What else?"

"A lot of people reported hearing heavy breathing and someone groaning. A couple staying in a room in the old section reported hearing old-fashioned piano music and people laughing in the bar well after the bar had closed. When it happened to me, I thought I must be dreaming, but now I believe it was real. A couple of people also reported seeing round white lights near the ceiling in the saloon."

"Orbs, right?"

"That's what they're called. I saw one in my room one night. They're supposed to be the spirits of souls trapped on the earthly plane."

"I suppose anything's possible."

"The more I read, the more I don't really know what to believe."

They ate in silence for a while. Jenny wasn't a great cook herself, so she was enjoying Opal's delicious meal.

"How far back do the journals go?" Cain asked as he pushed his empty bowl away.

"The man who remodeled the hotel in the late 1990s started the tradition. Uncle Charlie stopped doing it a few years back. He didn't like the idea of people saying the Copper Star was haunted."

"Can't say I blame him, though there are dozens of ghost stories about the Grandview. I've pretty much just accepted the possibility and let it go at that."

Jenny thought of the bloody face of the ghostly being who'd been standing at the foot of Cain's bed. The memory stirred a shiver. "Nell told me some of them."

He set their pie plates in front of them. "So you're going through the journals year by year."

"That's right. I haven't gotten very far, but I'm writing down anything interesting, the date of the report, and what room it occurred in. I'm looking for the same events happening over and over."

"Sounds like a good approach."

She smiled. "I'll start again in the morning when I get back to the hotel. I've got meetings over here later tomorrow to discuss some options with your bartending staff. I should be around all afternoon."

Cain gave her a look that said he was thinking of a little afternoon delight.

"I'll be here to work," she reminded him.

Cain just smiled.

They finished dessert, cleaned up the mess, and snuggled together on the sofa. Snuggling led to kissing, kissing led to touching, and things heated up from there. Cain carried her into the bedroom and set her on her feet. He took his time undressing her, then stripped off his own clothes, and they settled in the big king-size bed.

Starting off slow and easy, Cain seemed determined to take his time, but in seconds, slow and easy turned hot and erotic. She loved the feel of his big body pressing her down in the mattress, sliding inside her, moving deep. Release came swift and hard. Cain's release followed.

Afterward, she curled against his side, and both of them slept.

It was the middle of the night when something awakened her. For a moment, she was afraid it was the bloody ghost she had seen before. Then she felt Cain's hand skimming over her body, caressing her breasts, moving lower, and wondered vaguely how such tough, scarred hands could be so gentle.

Desire burned through her. She was more than ready when he lifted her and set her astride him. She'd wanted a man who took control, but even when she was the one in charge, she could feel the power of him, his driving need, and it set her on fire.

She was limp and sated when she awakened before Cain the next morning. She needed to get up, get dressed, and get to work. She had a lot to do at the Copper Star, and she wanted time to read more journal entries.

Instead, she reached for him and felt his heavy arousal. The morning slipped away in slow-burning need and tender satisfaction. She was curled against him, both of them awake, but still drowsy, when she heard a firm knock on the living-room door.

"Stay here. I'll take care of it." Cain leaned down and kissed her. "I should have been up hours ago. You're a bad influence." But he was smiling. Stark naked and unembarrassed, he walked away.

Watching him, even after a night of amazing sex, Jenny felt a rush of heat.

Cain grabbed his robe off a chair next to the door and headed out of the bedroom. She should have been up earlier. She had a dozen things to do.

Forcing herself to leave the warm bed that smelled liked sex and Cain, she headed for the bathroom. After a quick shower, she dragged her hair up in a ponytail and secured it with a scrunchy. Makeup could wait. She pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, grabbed her overnight bag, slung her purse strap over her shoulder, and headed for the bedroom door.

Thank God, Cain had a private elevator. She could sneak out the back way and walk down the hill to the hotel.

Except that when she opened the door, Nell Barrett sat on the sofa.