Haunting Ellie (16 page)

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she closed the door. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

“I’m sure I could make others.” He stuck his head through the doorway into the parlor. “You’ve got a hell of a long way to go, Liz. Are you sure you want to tackle this place?”

“We’ve already tackled the worst of it.”

“We?”

“Jon and I. He’s done most of the hard stuff.”

“Yeah, he’s a man of many talents.” Matt handed his coat to Elizabeth without a word of thanks. Typical!

She heard boot steps again out front; she heard the heavy knock. She closed her eyes and sighed, right before she opened the door.

“Sorry I wasn’t here this morning,” Jon said, looking straight into her eyes. “I—” He must have seen Matt standing near the parlor. He must have seen
Matt’s coat in her arms. “I guess I picked the wrong time to come by.” He pivoted on his boot heels and started for the stairs.

Elizabeth stepped into the cold and slammed the door behind her. “Don’t go, Jon. Please.”

He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I don’t.”

‘Then why’s he here?” He gripped the railing on the porch and faced her.

“Business. That’s all.”

“What about yesterday? Floyd Jones was here, too. Has he become part of this partnership?”

Elizabeth sighed and leaned against the door. “They wanted to know how things were going with the hotel. They wanted to know when they could start lodging people here—that’s all.”

Jon only glared.

“Please. Don’t go.”

The door opened and Matt stepped onto the porch, draping his arm around her shoulders. “Is he bothering you, Liz?”

Elizabeth watched Jon’s right hand double into a fist,
his arm draw back, then hesitate.

“Ah, hell!” Jon exploded, and shoved his fist into his pocket. “Go inside, Elizabeth. It’s cold out here. In fact, I think it’s the coldest it’s ever been.”

Jon didn’t even bother tipping his hat goodbye; he just walked away.

Matt drew her back inside, but she shrugged away from his arm as soon as he closed the door, “I really don’t want you here, Matt. We can talk about the advertising some other time.”

“I’m here now, Liz. I can’t see any reason to leave.”

She didn’t have the energy to argue. She threw his coat over the rack and walked into the parlor.

“Do you have some wine?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she went to the window and looked out at the snow once more. Jon’s reaction at seeing Matt inside the hotel
didn’t surprise her, but the fact that he wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t stay when she asked, did. It hurt, too.

Obviously, he didn’t care. Not enough, anyway. Maybe it was time to just give up on him. Maybe she should settle for Matt. He didn’t care about anything but himself, so she’d never have to worry about offending him.

When she turned from the window, Matt was walking around the room, inspecting the furniture, the ancient crystal, ceramics, and silver. He was absolutely gorgeous; he was also insufferable.

Maybe he was just what she needed—tonight.

“I’ve got a ’79 Cabernet that should be pretty good,” she said, going to the table where she’d set it earlier, along with two glasses, when she thought—hoped—Jon might come by.

“French or Californian?” he asked.

“Does it matter?”

He shrugged, paying her very little attention as he walked to the chesterfield and ran his hands over the cushions. He carefully inspected his fingers, apparently for dust, then sat down and stretched an arm along the back. “I sensed a little tension between you and my cousin. I take it things aren’t going well between the two of you.”

He wasn’t totally oblivious to everyone but himself. Elizabeth popped the cork on the bottle and poured wine into the glasses. “He works for me, that’s all,” she lied. “We seem to have rather frequent disagreements.” She handed Matt the glass and sat in a chair across from him.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Matt swirled the wine about and sniffed the bouquet before taking his
first sip. “I suppose that leaves the field wide open for me.”

Elizabeth laug
hed. “Only if I wanted you.’

He toasted her with his glass. “You’ll want me,
Liz.”

“You’re a bit sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Always.”

He looked about the room again, at the stripped walls, the sanded wood paneling that needed to be stained and varnished, the curtainless windows. “From the looks of this place, it could be summer before you have rooms to rent.
If that’s going to hurt you financially, we might be able to work something out.”

“What? Do you want me to help you out in one of your poaching expeditions?”

She couldn’t believe she’d said those words. She expected Matt to fire something equally vile at her, but all he did was smile.

“You wound me, Liz. You’re becoming as vindictive as Jon. Surely I don’t deserve that from you.”

Maybe he didn’t. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” She took a long sip of wine and curled up in the overstuffed chair, thinking seriously about getting rip-roaring drunk.

Directly across from her, she could see, again, the snow falling. Didn’t it ever let up? She was so cold right now. She’d been cold ever since Jon had gone to Denver, and she had the horrible feeling she might not be warm again until June.

“I don’t know how anyone survives here during the winter,” she said, facing Matt again. “Isn’t your income hampered by the weather?”

“I let very little hamper me, Liz, especially the weather. My outfitting business takes up most of my time in late summer and fall. In between times, I purchase and sell a lot of property. You’d be surprised how many greenhorns come here in the summer to buy up hundreds of acres of land under the ‘Big Sky.’ They get these grand notions of settling down in God’s country and being gentlemen ranchers. Then the first snow hits and they hightail it for much warmer climes.” He laughed. “They buy high, they sell low.”

“And I take it you’re there for the killing?”

Matt swirled the deep burgundy liquid around in his glass. “I’ve been known to make a shrewd investment or two.”

He downed the rest of his wine and set the glass on the table in front of him. Slowly, he rose from the sofa and walked behind Elizabeth’s chair. “You seem a little tense tonight, Liz.” She felt his fingers on her arms, felt them move over her shoulders and along the base of her neck. “I could relieve some of that tension for you.”

Elizabeth pulled away. It was Jon she wanted to touch her. It was Jon she wanted to kiss. Not Matt, in spite of her earlier insane thoughts. “I’m not the least bit tense, Matt.” She rose and poured more wine into her glass. “Would you like some more?” she asked, but Matt shook his head. Why on earth hadn’t she kicked him out? Why had she given him wine? Why had she offered him more when she just wanted to be left alone?

Matt leaned against the doorframe between the parlor and dining room, his arms folded across his chest, and watched her sip her wine. “Y’know, Liz,
if you’re interested in real estate, I could find you a good deal or two.”

“But I already got a good deal from you. This hotel was a steal at the price I paid.”

“I take it the noises haven’t bothered you?”

“You mean the floorboards, the windows, the things you warned Eric about?”

He nodded.

“I’ve heard lots of noises, Matt. But it’s not the house.”

“No?” His eyes narrowed.

“No.” She could see his shoulders tense, and she knew without a doubt that Matt Winchester thought the place was haunted. He might have told her brother that it was just floorboards and windows, but deep down inside Matt Winchester believed a spirit roamed the rooms.

She finally felt a little better about Jon’s abrupt desertion. He was angry, but there was always tomorrow. As for Matt, he was a pretentious fool. He thought he’d sold her a piece of goods—he’ was wrong, of course, but that didn’t matter.

He was obnoxious and rude, and she wanted to get even for him putting his arm around her and making Jon mad.

Maybe it was time for him to be a bit tense, too.

“I’m convinced there’s a ghost here somewhere,” she teased. “If you stick around long enough, it might appear.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Not exactly. It’s more a feeling I get when I’m alone at night.”

The crystals on the chandelier tinkled. It swayed slightly. She watched for any other motion, but the
only thing that moved was Matt’s gaze, drifting to the hanging lights.

She smiled. “Things like that happen all the time for no apparent reason. This could be a great advertising gimmick.”

Matt faced her again and grinned, but she couldn’t miss his deep, difficult swallow. “Like I said, Liz, it’s only the house making noises. If you’re afraid—” He walked toward her, slowly, quietly, as if he were stalking his prey. He pinched her chin between cold, hard fingers.

Elizabeth wrenched away, but his hand swiftly wound around the back of her neck and he lowered his mouth. She felt the pressure of wet lips against hers as she struggled.

Spitooey!

Matt jerked away. “What was that?”

Elizabeth used the moment to back out of his grasp. She wiped her fingers across her mouth, removing remnants of Matt’s kiss from her lips. “What was what?”

“That sound.” He looked about the room, his face scrunched into a frown. “Like someone spitting.”

“Oh, that.” Elizabeth shook her head, brushing off the comment as if the noise was of no import. “It’s the blasted pipes. They’re filled with air and make noises day and night.” She shrugged. “You get used to them after a while.”

“Maybe you should get them fixed.”

“All in good time, Matt.”

Maybe he’ll leave now, Elizabeth hoped.

“Why don’t we get some dinner?” he asked, obviously not ready to dispense with her presence.
“I’ll take you into Helena again tonight.”

She didn’t want his company, but quite obviously, she’d never mastered the fine art of bluntly getting rid of a man. At least one like Matt. “Thanks. Not tonight. I might just stop by the cafe later and get something quick.”

“I’ll take you there.”

Couldn’t he catch the drift of her subtle hint? “I’d rather kick off my shoes and eat here. It’s been a long day.”

“I’m sure Libby can dish up a gourmet meal, something drenched in gravy and grease. I’ll pick up two evening specials and bring them back.”

“Well...”

“It’s no imposition, Liz.”

Following Matt to the door, Elizabeth hoped against hope that he’d slip and fall in the snow, get his pretty clothes all wet, and be forced to go home for the evening. Unfortunately, she didn’t think she’d be quite that lucky.

“Get comfortable, Liz, I’ll be back shortly.”

Closing the door, Elizabeth leaned against it for a moment. Get comfortable, huh? How? A slinky negligée? A chastity belt suddenly came to mind. She’d never thought wearing one would be comfortable, but if she had one, it might suit the occasion.

Laughing at herself and her thoughts, she sauntered into the parlor, remembering the distaste of Matt’s kiss and its precipitous end.
Spitooey!
She’d heard it twice now, or at least, she
thought
she’d heard it, both times in that same cantankerous voice.

Both times when Matt was near.

Standing in the middle of the room, she stared at one of the hotel’s many chandeliers. It wasn’t swaying now; the crystals weren’t tinkling, but that didn’t mean her housemate, if she really had one, wasn’t nearby. All of a sudden she was beginning to believe there might really be someone in the hotel with her. A restless spirit. A ghost.

She faced the ceiling and spoke to thin air. “There’s no need to stay quiet any longer. I know you’re in here.”

As before, nothing and no one answered. All Elizabeth heard were the growing gale outside and the scrape of the poplar against the exterior walls. “Go ahead. Be silent. See if I care.” She circled the room. “This is crazy. I shouldn’t even believe you exist.” She stopped again, dead still, and stared at the chandelier that hung slightly off-kilter, as if someone perched on one of the curving brass rungs. “Look, all I want to do is thank you for interrupting that kiss. Well, that’s not all, really. I want you to know that I’m capable of handling things on my own—”

Like hell!

That time she did hear it, loud and clear, and she stood frozen in place, afraid to move. What on earth had possessed her to stay in this place? My God, it was really and truly haunted. But by what? Or who?

The crystals on the chandelier shimmied, clinking against each other, as the heavy fixture swung back and forth, back and forth.

A heavy thud sounded on the parquet beneath the chandelier. Had someone or something jumped or fallen to the floor?

Gradually, the chandelier ceased its movement. Elizabeth swallowed hard. So many noises. So many strange occurrences. She took one tentative step away from the craziness.