LITMIR.BIZ

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in her head, and temptation tugged at her. A few of the rooms could use fresh paint and wallpaper. By next spring the carriage house would need repainting and there were several other repairs she needed to tackle to keep the place in top condition.

      She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know,” she said uncertainly.

      “And of course I’ll pay extra for the additional meals.”

      He named a generous figure, and Kate flashed him an annoyed look. Darn it. He wasn’t playing fair.

      “Oh, and if you have any concern about being alone in the house with me for months, you really don’t have to worry. Not that I don’t find you attractive, mind you,” he added with a flirtatious wink. “I do. But I assure you I’ve never forced my attentions on a woman.”

      I’ll bet, Kate thought. Men like J. T. Conway didn’t have to. Just the opposite. He probably had to beat women off with a club.

      Actually, she hadn’t given a thought to that aspect until he mentioned it. Kate was accustomed to having strangers in her home. However, never anyone for a long period of time.

      Kate wasn’t concerned for her safety. She had no illusions about her looks. She knew that she had a delicate sort of beauty that some found appealing, but she was hardly the type to drive a man wild with lust. Of course, some of the men who had stayed at the B&B had made passes at her, but she put a stop to that soon enough. With the married ones, a threat to tell their wives usually did the trick.

      What bothered Kate was the gossip J.T. was sure to hear in town. Most of her guests didn’t stay long enough to learn about the scandal or hear the accusations against her and her brother. But if Mr. Conway was going to be around for months, talking to the locals and digging through the town’s old newspaper files, he was certain to find out about the crime.

      How would he react? she wondered. With scorn? Or avarice? It was usually one of the two.

      J. T. Conway’s opinion of her didn’t matter one way or the other, but she didn’t care for the idea of being cooped up all winter with someone who thought she was a criminal.

      “I can give you references if you’d like,” J.T. pressed when she continued to hesitate. “My pastor back in Houston, a retired police detective and former girlfriends. You can call them, ask them anything you want.”

      Kate arched one eyebrow. “Former girlfriends? Are you sure you want to risk that?”

      His devilish grin flashed again. “I’m on friendly terms with all my ex’s. If you want to call them I’ll be happy to turn over my little black book to you.”

      “That won’t be necessary.” Kate gave him a level look. “I have a sturdy lock on my door, Mr. Conway. I also have a pistol, and I’m an excellent markswoman.”

      The last statement was a blatant lie. Not only did she not own a hand gun, she’d never touched one in her life. The only weapon she’d ever fired was her father’s old shotgun.

      That he remained on friendly terms with his ex-lovers said a lot about his character, but it didn’t hurt for him to believe she could and would defend herself if the need arose.

      J.T. did not seem in the least intimidated. He tried to put on a serious face, but laughter twinkled in his eyes, and his mouth twitched suspiciously. “I’ll keep that in mind. So, Miss Mahoney, does this mean you’ll let me stay?”

      Kate met his pleading gaze for several seconds. Finally she sighed. “Very well. You can stay.”

      Yes! J.T. thought, fighting down the urge to let out a whoop. He was in! First step accomplished.

      “Great. You won’t regret it.”

      Her dry look told him she wasn’t convinced of that, but she merely turned back to the door. “If you’d like to get your things we’ll go in.”

      “Sure thing.” He hurried out to his Jeep and returned moments later carrying a large bag over his shoulder and a case containing his laptop and followed her inside.

      “Very nice,” he said, looking around at the impressive entry hall.

      “Thank you. The house was built by Elijah Smithson between 1880 and 1883. He was the first prospector in the valley to find gold. As it turned out, his claim was not only the first, it was the richest strike ever made here. Throughout the town’s history, the Shamrock Mine was the largest and most profitable in the valley. Two-thirds of the local miners worked there.”

      Amusement tugged at J.T.’s mouth. She sounded like a tour guide. No doubt the spiel was one she gave to all her paying guests. Kate Mahoney was the epitome of the cool, efficient innkeeper—polite and informative, but businesslike. He had a hunch it was a persona she assumed to keep a distance between herself and her guests.

      Nice try, honey, he thought with a cynical twist to his mouth. But it’s not going to work with me. Before the winter is over you and I are going to become well acquainted.

      “I’m surprised he stayed in such a remote place after striking it rich,” he said to Kate. “Especially if Gold Fever was like most rough-and-ready mining towns of that era.”

      “Oh, Mr. Smithson built a mansion in Denver, too, like the other gold tycoons, but he liked to keep a close watch on the mine operation. Personally, I think he also enjoyed being a big fish in a small pond. This house served as a constant reminder to all the locals of his status.”

      “Mmm, you’re probably right,” J.T. agreed, arching his neck back to look at the enormous, domed, etched-glass skylight that spilled prisms of light into the foyer. “Why else would he build a place like this and perch it up here where he could look down on everyone else?”

      “Yes, I agree. Now if you’ll come with me, I’ll give you a quick tour of the downstairs so you’ll know your way around.”

      She led the way down the wide central hallway toward the back of the house. An appreciative smile curved J.T.’s mouth as he watched her thick braid swing against her back and the enticing sway of her gently rounded hips.

      As they passed them, Kate gestured toward the two sets of double doors on either side of the hall. “On the left is the guest parlor, on the right the family parlor. Next on the left is the dining room, and across the hall from it is the library. Feel free to use them anytime you like.

      “You may even find some valuable research material for your novel in the library. My father was a mining engineer and the superintendent of the Shamrock Mine for years. He was also something of a history buff. All I ask is that you return any books that you use when you’re done.”

      “Fair enough. And, thanks. I’ll take you up on that offer.”

      A little past the center of the house the hallway came to a T at the base of the massive stairway. Kate gestured to the short hallway on the left. “This leads to the butler’s pantry, downstairs powder room and the servants’ back stairs, but I would prefer that you not use those as they’re narrow and steep. I rather not risk a guest taking a fall.”

      “Old Elijah didn’t waste money on niceties for the hired help, huh?” J.T. said with a crooked smile.

      “No. Although, I don’t suppose he was any worse than any other wealthy person of that era. In those days there were definite distinctions between the classes. Now, if you’ll follow me, Mr. Conway, we’ll go to my office and get you checked in.”

      “The first door is the entrance to the kitchen,” she said in her brisk, tour guide voice as they made their way down the right hallway. “That door at the end of the hall opens to the porte cochere. When it’s snowing you may want to pull your vehicle under there and enter through that way. Here we are.” She opened the last door on the left and led the way inside a comfortable-size room. “This used to be the housekeeper’s room, but I use it as my office now. Please, have a seat, Mr. Conway.”

      The formality of registering and paying six months rent in advance took only a few minutes.

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