CHAPTER FOUR

I T WAS A STEEP WALK UP H ILL S TREET, A THIRD OF A MILE TO THE Grandview Hotel. Jenny crossed the parking lot, climbed the tall concrete front steps, and pushed open the door.

Cain Barrett stood in the middle of the room in conversation with one of the men in the construction crew. With his height and muscular, broad-shouldered build, the man was impossible to miss. Jenny had to admit he looked good in a pair of black jeans and a white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows.

On one sinewy forearm, a tattoo disappeared beneath the crisp white fabric. There were ugly scars on the backs of his hands that she had noticed when Cain had been sitting across from her at the bar. A pair of low-topped leather work boots covered his big feet.

Jenny had googled Cain Barrett that afternoon, found article after article written about him, the rags-to-riches story of a man who had come from nothing and become a multimillionaire. Cain had been abandoned as a child and was raised by his grandmother, whom he credited with making him the success he was today.

The article told how Cain had been a high school dropout until Nell Barrett had persuaded him to return to school. He had finally graduated, taken a small grubstake, all Nell could afford to give him, and set out to make his fortune. Which he had done in spectacular fashion.

After years of backbreaking labor in a series of Arizona mines, Cain had partnered with Barton Harwell, a fellow miner a few years older and more experienced. Together, they started prospecting on their days off. During their hunt for gold—the ore most miners hoped to find—they purchased half a dozen abandoned mining leases.

They worked the leases for three years before Harwell got discouraged and sold his half interest to Cain, who kept on working the claims.

It was brutal, grueling labor, but a year later, Cain's efforts paid off. Instead of gold, he discovered a huge deposit of molybdenum, enough to make him rich. Barrett Enterprises was a Fortune 500 company, and the impoverished high school dropout from the nowhere town of Jerome was now a wealthy, respected businessman.

Jenny thought of the painful-looking scars on Cain's hands. Mining was a dangerous game. After reading the articles, she felt a growing respect for the man she had come to the Grandview to meet.

He turned and saw her, then smiled, and Jenny's stomach did a little dip. She smiled back, but quelled the attraction she was determined not to feel.

Cain checked the stainless watch on his thick wrist. "Right on time. I figured you would be."

"You did?"

"Your place runs smoothly. You can't make that happen unless you're organized and efficient. Ready for a tour?"

"I am." She glanced around the entry. It had clearly been rebuilt, but the look of the old place shined through—the dark wood paneling, the beautiful tin ceilings, the polished hardwood floors.

The steady rhythm of hammering sounded in the distance as Jenny followed Cain into the bar. Canvas tarps covered the floors, and men on ladders were working to clean the beamed ceilings. The view across the desert to the distant mountains was spectacular.

Cain showed her the nearly completed bar and the equipment installed to run the place: ice-makers, dishwashers, sinks, glass racks.

"It looks like you've spent a lot of time thinking this through," Jenny said.

"The bones of the place were good when I bought it. We've redesigned the building and replaced all the old equipment. I could use some input on the supplies we'll need, whatever it might take to increase efficiency."

Jenny just nodded, taking mental inventory as they walked along.

The restaurant was near completion, but not quite finished yet. A wall of windows created a view as spectacular as the one in the bar.

"I need the same kind of input here," Cain said. "How much of everything we need, right down to the salt and pepper shakers."

It was a big job full of unknowns. She didn't really have that kind of expertise, and yet the excitement of a fresh challenge was rushing through her veins.

"I can give you my best estimate."

He cast her a sideways glance. "I'll need a little more than that."

He was pressing her, upping the challenge. "If I take the job, I can handle it," she said.

Amusement touched his lips, exactly where she shouldn't have been looking. You're only human , she told herself, and it had been years since she'd felt the slightest attraction to a man. Her mind strayed to Richard, but she blocked the thought. She refused to let bad memories control her future.

"I'll show you the meeting rooms. They're just down the hall." Past the restaurant, a set of double doors led into a big empty chamber. GRAND VISTA SALON , the sign read.

"All the walls are movable," Cain said. "One big room or a bunch of smaller ones. Whatever we need."

There were windows that looked over the valley below and the mountains in the distance. The walls were dark wood that continued the theme of the bar and restaurant.

"Be nice to have meeting rooms available. It's always been a problem for groups in the area."

"Problem solved," Cain said. "Ready to go upstairs?"

"Looking forward to it. What you've done up here is nothing short of incredible. It's all new, and yet it looks as if it were built in the 1920s, which, originally, it was." Everyone who lived and worked in Jerome knew about the old hotel that had once been a hospital.

She didn't want to think about the people who had died there or the chilling ghost stories that came from guests who had stayed in the older version of the hotel.

They went up the grand staircase instead of taking the elevator, and Cain gave her a tour of the second floor. The rooms had all been redone, the process nearly completed, and there was a gym at one end. One look at Cain, and it was clear he used the facility.

They walked past the rooms along the hall.

"We want to preserve the feeling of the times," Cain said. "We're furnishing each room with antiques or antique reproductions."

"It's going to be beautiful."

Pleased, his features softened. "Thanks. We're all working hard to make that happen."

He led her to one of the new elevators that had been installed. "All the rooms and suites on the third floor are the same as the second, so we'll skip that." Cain pushed the button for the fourth floor.

"This is where things get interesting." The elevator door slid open. "We've turned a number of rooms on this level into a spacious apartment for my grandmother."

"Nell, right?"

One of his dark eyebrows went up. "You did some digging, I see?"

"That's right. If I'm going to work for someone, I want to know as much as I can about them."

"I can usually say the same, but in your case, I've resisted. I wanted the pleasure of getting to know you myself."

Jenny paused in the hallway in front of a set of double doors. "Why?"

"I'm not sure yet," Cain said honestly. "I'll let you know when I figure it out." He opened the door into a living room with a fireplace. French doors led out to a balcony with views of the mountains. The bathroom was spectacular, but fully handicap-equipped.

"My grandmother is ailing," he said. "She wants to spend her last years here in Jerome. I want that for her. The adjoining room is for her caregiver, who's also her good friend. Another room is for any equipment necessary to see she's taken care of properly if something were to happen."

"I assume you have someone else handling the medical aspect of the setup."

He nodded. "You don't have to worry about any of that."

"And the rest of the floor?"

"More rooms, some with balconies, and my suite. I won't be here all that much, but when I am, I'll want to spend time with my grandmother, and I'll want to be comfortable."

Men were at work in the suite, so they skipped it, finished the tour, and returned downstairs.

"You said you won't be here that often. Your company offices are in Scottsdale. Is that where you live?"

"I have a house there. The place I call home is my ranch out in Kirkland. It's about an hour away. The Cross Bar raises championship cutting horses." He smiled. "If you take the job and you want to see it, I'll show it to you sometime."

She was going to take the job. She'd had no doubt from the moment she had opened the front door. She loved the Copper Star, loved running the hotel and saloon. But aside from the money problems her uncle had left her when she'd inherited the property—and the ghosts that had been troubling guests in the new wing—the challenge had been gone for some time.

Jenny looked up at him. "As I said, I like what you've done. But the finishing touches could make the difference between success and failure. I'd like to help with that."

He smiled, definitely pleased he was getting his way. Jenny wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"So you're accepting my offer," he said just to be clear.

"That's right."

"When can you start?"

"I need a day or two to make arrangements. I want to operate on my own schedule—that isn't negotiable."

He nodded.

"We're busiest on the weekends. It's Friday night. I could start . . . say, next Tuesday? That should give me time to hire an extra part-time employee and set up the scheduling."

"Tuesday works fine. I'll walk you out to your car."

Jenny glanced at him over her shoulder as he reached down to open the door leading outside. She could feel the size of him, the heat of him, and her heart beat a little faster.

"I didn't drive," she said. "It's less than a ten-minute walk up the hill from the Star."

Cain frowned. "Coming up isn't the problem. It's pitch-black out there now. The town is full of tourists, and you never really know who you might encounter." The wind blew a big gust of cold fall air through the open door. "The temperature has dropped. I'll drive you back."

She could tell it would be useless to argue, and as Uncle Charlie once said, "If you want to win, you have to learn to pick your battles."

Jenny had a feeling that working for Cain Barrett, she would face plenty of battles ahead.

Cain walked Jenny out to his big Dodge truck and opened the passenger door. As small as she was, he was glad the truck had automatic power running boards and, being the top-of-the-line model, pretty much everything else. Jenny swung into the passenger seat without his help, and he rounded the front, climbed in, and started the engine.

As she'd said, it was only a matter of minutes down the steep hill to Main Street. He could have dropped her off in front of the saloon, but he didn't like the idea, and a parking space had just opened up a little way down the block.

Nell had taught him a man walked a woman to her door. Luckily, she had also taught him etiquette and how to speak proper English. She had been a schoolteacher in her younger years. More he owed her for.

"Thanks for the ride." Jenny stepped down from the seat before he had time to get out and open her door. She waved as she disappeared into the saloon.

Unease slipped through him at the sight of the string of motorcycles parked along the edge of the asphalt. He debated for a moment, then decided he could use a beer before heading back to his half-finished suite at the hotel.

There wasn't much in the way of decoration there yet, but there was a sofa and chair in the living room, along with a big-screen TV. He had a king-size bed in the master, plus a guest room. Both bathrooms and the powder room were finished, and he kept several changes of clothes in the closet. The best part was the private elevator he'd added at the back of the hotel that went from the rear parking lot all the way up to his fourth-floor suite.

He got out of the truck and walked the half block back to the saloon. A beer sounded good, and the road down the hill to the ranch was too dangerous a drive for anyone who had been drinking. He'd stay at the hotel and head back to the ranch in the morning.

As Cain pushed through the swinging doors, country music filled the air. A man's voice, accompanied by the strum of a guitar, came from a one-man band in the corner. The room was packed, tourists mostly, a couple of guys in cowboy hats. There were a few locals in the mix and some old hippies from the days of Jerome's comeback as a tourist attraction.

A new generation of artists, misfits, and outliers ran the remodeled boutiques, restaurants, and bars—and, of course, there were the ghosts Jerome was famous for.

Cain's glance went to a group of men in biker leathers who had pulled several tables together and were laughing and drinking. Two of them had their chairs tilted back, their heavy motorcycle boots propped on the tables. STEEL CObrAS was the name on the back of their black-leather jackets.

His gaze immediately went in search of Jenny. She was talking to the bartender—Troy something—and she didn't look pleased. Cain remained next to the door, watching as she headed for the bikers, half of him uneasy, the other half fascinated.

"Gentlemen," Jenny said, her hands propped on her very appealing hips. She looked good in the stretch jeans she seemed to favor, and the bikers definitely noticed.

"Hey, babe, you come over here to get a little?" The guy was big and bald, with earrings in both ears. "Good ol' Ryder will be happy to give you some." He grabbed his crotch and squeezed it suggestively. "Let me know if you like what you see."

Jenny focused her attention in good ol' Ryder's direction, grabbed his booted feet, and dragged them off the table. They hit the wooden floor with a heavy thud, jerking the biker's neck as his chair dropped back down on four legs.

The other bikers howled with laughter, but Ryder didn't seem amused.

"The bartender says you're way over your limit," Jenny said. "I think it's time for all of you to leave."

Cain could feel his eyes widening in disbelief. Little Jenny Spencer couldn't be taking on half a dozen rowdy bikers. But clearly she was.

Ryder's chair scraped back as he rose to his feet. The music kept playing, but the conversation in the bar had stopped.

"You know what I think?" Ryder said. "I think you and me are goin' for a little stroll outside." He gripped Jenny's arm, but she jerked it free.

"I'm not going anywhere with you." Jenny pointed to the door. "Now get out."

Cain rested lightly on his feet, ready to step in if things went south, and he figured they would. He knew guys like these. They'd been among his lowlife friends back when he was a kid.

"You wouldn't want us to drive drunk, would you, sweetheart?" The second biker was tall and skinny, with stringy brown hair and a sleeve of tats down each arm, more tats on the side of his neck.

"I definitely don't want you driving drunk," she said. "I can easily arrange for the police to come and get you, give you a free room for the night."

Another round of laughter broke out, but one look at Ryder and it faded away.

"The choice is yours," Jenny said. "I'd suggest you throw your bedrolls down at the edge of town and get some sleep, be on your way in the morning."

It was reasonable. Far more reasonable than Cain would have been. He had to admit he was impressed. And the way the men were grumbling and stirring to their feet, it looked like Jenny's approach actually might work.

As the group started for the door, some of the tension in his shoulders began to ease.

Then Ryder paused and turned back. In two long strides, he reached Jenny, bent, and hauled her over a beefy shoulder. As he strode for the door, Cain's whole body tightened.

He hadn't been in a barroom brawl in years, but he hadn't forgotten how to fight. He stepped in front of the big ugly biker and flattened a hand on the man's massive chest.

"Put her down."

Jenny was struggling, calling the guy a few choice names. From the corner of his eye, Cain could see the bartender speaking on the phone, talking madly with his hands, but aside from the phone call, he made no move to help. Cain disliked him immediately.

"I said put her down."

"Stay out of this, mister." Ryder's arm tightened around Jenny's knees. She was pounding on his back, but Ryder was too big and dumb to feel it.

Cain's hand balled into a fist. "A smart man would let the lady go."

"She your woman?"

Cain looked at Jenny, whose fury under different circumstances might have amused him.

"I'm thinking about it. Put her down."

Ryder set Jenny on her feet. Cain caught her fist before she could throw a punch. "It's all right. Good ol' Ryder was just about to leave."

"I oughta kick your ass," the biker said to him. But his friends had already left, and his kind didn't like to fight one-on-one.

"You're welcome to try," Cain said mildly.

"Next time," Ryder said. "I got a long memory."

"So do I," Cain said, never breaking eye contact.

The biker's jaw clenched. Turning, he pushed through the swinging doors hard enough to rock them and walked out of the bar. The minute he was gone, the music and conversation started up again.

"I didn't need your help," Jenny said, but he noticed she was trembling. "This is my place. I handle things here."

"My mistake," Cain said.

Slightly embarrassed, Jenny blew out a slow breath and raked her fingers through her thick brown curls, pushing them back from her face. "Okay, so maybe this time I did need a little help. Thank you."

He managed to hold back a smile. "My pleasure."

"Still, I prefer to handle things myself as much as I can."

"I understand. I feel the same way."

"You do?"

"Yes. You did a nice job, by the way. It damn near worked."

She gave him a tentative smile. "It usually does." She cocked her head to the side, her gaze running over his big frame. "Next time I need a bouncer, I know who to call."

He did smile then. "Wouldn't be the first time I've done the job."

She looked intrigued, but didn't press for more. They weren't on that kind of footing. Yet.

"Buy you a beer?" she asked. "It's the least I can do."

"Sounds good."

Jenny tipped her head toward the bar, where Troy was calling off the law, and Cain followed, then settled himself on an empty stool. "You've got Sam Adams on tap. I'll have one of those."

She rounded the bar and drew him a beer, set it down in front of him, and drew a glass for herself.

"Would you really have fought that guy?"

He shrugged. "Not unless I had to."

"No one's ever fought for me. It was always just Dad, my brother, and me. Dylan's three years older. He left as soon as he got out of high school. Then Dad died."

She took a long swallow of beer. "At least I had Uncle Charlie. Now he's gone, too."

Cain fought an urge to tell her she could always count on him. He barely knew her, and yet he felt strangely protective. Maybe she reminded him of the sweet girl she had been in high school.

Jenny looked at him and smiled. "I think I'm going to like working for you."

Cain lifted his glass in approval and took a drink. He had wondered if hiring Jenny Spencer was a good idea. After tonight, he had no doubt.

Tuesday couldn't come too soon.