Read Online A Ghost at Stallion's Gate by Elizabeth Eagan-Cox - Free Book Online Page A

much more with this assignment than writing a publicity brochure.”
    Alex was fishing and he was not being very subtle in doing so. Without so much has casting out a line, I had hooked him.
    “Alex, I do not want to inconvenience you, you’re way down there in San Diego. Really, what I have going on is outside the publicity brochure assignment for Stallion’s Gate and besides, my sidetrack of research is just a small curiosity of sorts,” I teased.
    “You mean a mystery. I know you Shannon. You get drawn into these cold cases and cannot let them go. And it’s no trouble for me to help. I’m not in San Diego; I’m in Los Angeles. I came up for a board meeting at the Magic Castle and I’ll be here for a week, at least. So, let’s not beat around the bush, can I help or not?”
    “You’ve been snooping on me,” I accused him.
    “No. I have not,” Alex retorted.
    “Promise?” I asked.
    “Shannon, stop this silliness. Have dinner with me, tonight. Say, about seven, I’ll pick you up at the Rose Victorian.”
    I paused for a moment, measuring my reply. “Okay, but you must promise not to needle me about my welfare and my personal life and all the other questions people are tiptoeing around me with and talking about in hushed tones.”
    “Of course. Shannon, have I ever treated you like that?”
    His remark brought me to my senses. Why, of course not. Alex Blackthorne is the one person in my life who has never been condescending to me. “Okay, it’s a date, at seven tonight. But, Alex I have one word to say to you.”
    “And that is?” Alex asked.
    “Italian.”
    “As you wish.”
    Now I really needed to get back to the cottage. I wanted to get on the Internet and do some research about Marla’s court case before Alex showed up.
     
    Chapter 13
    Bella Vita was exactly the kind of Italian restaurant I had in mind when Alex invited me to dinner. He came through, as always, with the perfect place for dinner.
    Bella Vita was quintessentially Italian without the commercialized color scheme that runs rampant in many Italian eateries. The painted mural that ran along the longest side of the restaurant’s wall was a serene scene of a countryside village in Italy; a few small vineyards spotted the landscape here and there. The opposing wall was red brick, typical of many of the buildings in the historic district of Pasadena. We had parked around the corner just off Colorado Boulevard and strolled the few blocks to Bella Vita. Along the way Alex acted as my personal tour guide and pointed out some of Pasadena’s historic landmarks. The neighborhood was quaint and very well kept.
    Alex had called in a reservation. Our table was the perfect combination of privacy with a view outside to the busy foot traffic on the street. Inside we were away from the noise of the dinner crowds that flocked to this section of the historic downtown district. The ambiance put me in such a good mood that I insisted Alex order for me. It was a gesture I rarely ever allow another person to do. To be sure, he took notice.
    “To what do I owe the honor of being your personal culinary expert?” Alex’s manner was coy, and yet his direct look into my eyes told me he was serious.
    “I’m enchanted by your choice of a restaurant. So, I figured that since we have eaten out at Italian restaurants before, many times before, that you cannot possibly have forgotten my preferences,” I replied.
    He unfolded his napkin, as I did mine, and then he looked at me. I met his gaze straight on. We had played this game of cat and mouse many times before and I knew not to give in to Alex’s charm.
    “So, in other words, you trust me.” Alex said this with such calm that I realized my trust in him was never an issue.
    “Well, in the spirit of a certain someone, whom we have in common, Eric has said you always come through, so if for no other reason, yes, in most matters I have impeccable trust in you. Why not?”
    His reaction was not what I