today. She hadn't asked for it. But she couldn't deny that he'd made things marginally more interesting. Even if the way in which he'd made them interesting wasn't in her best interest.
Say the words. "Thank you."
He hesitated but didn't turn around.
What now? She glanced around the room, didn't find the answer. Fuck it. "Good night."
"Good night."
He walked out, closed the door behind him.
For one long moment she stood there staring at the closed door. "That was weird."
Why?
She had no reason to feel guilty about disappointing this guy. She'd done pretty well today. She'd only pissed off two people. Not counting the innkeeper. In all fairness, the mere fact that she'd shown up appeared to have pissed him off.
Whatever.
Sarah picked up her bag and tossed it on the bed. Then did the same with her shoulder bag. She set her hands on her hips and turned all the way around to view her room. She hadn't been surprised that she'd been given room 13. What did surprise her, however, was that it turned out to be quite nice. Generally, when she met with the kind of hostility she'd sensed in the innkeeper she wound up with the worst room in the place. Bad plumbing, drafty windows, no air-conditioning, she'd had it all. If this was the worst, then it was no wonder the inn was the most popular one in the county.
Four-poster bed with a lace canopy. Lots of big fluffy pillows and lush bedding. Antique furnishings. Cable television. High-speed Internet service. Her own private bath and a nice big bowl of fruit.
She sat on the mattress and bounced.
"Not too bad."
'Course, a good mattress didn't guarantee she would sleep.
She pushed up and wandered over to the massive window. Kale Conner strode down the front steps and across the parking area to his Jeep. Long, confident strides. She felt a prick of disappointment that he didn't spare a glance back at the inn as he got into the vehicle.
There it was. The most fundamental reason she should avoid him at all costs.
Attraction.
He really did have nice eyes. She didn't usually pay attention to eyes other than for assessing intent and emotion. As good-looking as Kale Conner was his best assets were definitely his eyes. Looking at him from a purely physical perspective, she had to confess that he fell into the hot category. He had a good voice, too. Low and deep, and he was obviously intelligent.
As his Jeep moved down the twisted road leading back to town she wondered if he really believed that sales pitch he'd given her about the citizens of Youngstown. Was he really that naive?
Then again, his life didn't revolve around murder.
Whatever he thought, the fact was that a murderer could crop up anywhere. Their reason for becoming a killer could be environmental, could be genetic.
Yet this whole village appeared to be convinced that their troubles were not related to a local. At least not one from this century. Give them a curse or a stranger, but not one of their own.
When Conner's taillights disappeared, she shifted her attention to the village and harbor. It was dark now but the collage of lights around the waterfront twinkled in the clear night. The sailboats drifted like ghosts with their white covers shimmering in the moonlight. Squares of light glowed from the homes that clung to the hillside flanking the inlet. She could only assume that the lack of sun in the winter prompted the owners to forgo curtains or blinds on their windows. She couldn't imagine, even on the fourth floor, leaving her windows naked for anyone's viewing pleasure.
Though it had melted on the pavement and had been scraped from the parking lots and driveways, snowbanks loitered beneath trees and against the corners of buildings and rooftops. The winding street up to the inn's hilltop station had reiterated Conner's point about four-wheel drive. The first icy or snowy morning she would regret not having gone with a fully equipped SUV.
Kale Conner. She unzipped and shed her coat. Her research indicated he
Say the words. "Thank you."
He hesitated but didn't turn around.
What now? She glanced around the room, didn't find the answer. Fuck it. "Good night."
"Good night."
He walked out, closed the door behind him.
For one long moment she stood there staring at the closed door. "That was weird."
Why?
She had no reason to feel guilty about disappointing this guy. She'd done pretty well today. She'd only pissed off two people. Not counting the innkeeper. In all fairness, the mere fact that she'd shown up appeared to have pissed him off.
Whatever.
Sarah picked up her bag and tossed it on the bed. Then did the same with her shoulder bag. She set her hands on her hips and turned all the way around to view her room. She hadn't been surprised that she'd been given room 13. What did surprise her, however, was that it turned out to be quite nice. Generally, when she met with the kind of hostility she'd sensed in the innkeeper she wound up with the worst room in the place. Bad plumbing, drafty windows, no air-conditioning, she'd had it all. If this was the worst, then it was no wonder the inn was the most popular one in the county.
Four-poster bed with a lace canopy. Lots of big fluffy pillows and lush bedding. Antique furnishings. Cable television. High-speed Internet service. Her own private bath and a nice big bowl of fruit.
She sat on the mattress and bounced.
"Not too bad."
'Course, a good mattress didn't guarantee she would sleep.
She pushed up and wandered over to the massive window. Kale Conner strode down the front steps and across the parking area to his Jeep. Long, confident strides. She felt a prick of disappointment that he didn't spare a glance back at the inn as he got into the vehicle.
There it was. The most fundamental reason she should avoid him at all costs.
Attraction.
He really did have nice eyes. She didn't usually pay attention to eyes other than for assessing intent and emotion. As good-looking as Kale Conner was his best assets were definitely his eyes. Looking at him from a purely physical perspective, she had to confess that he fell into the hot category. He had a good voice, too. Low and deep, and he was obviously intelligent.
As his Jeep moved down the twisted road leading back to town she wondered if he really believed that sales pitch he'd given her about the citizens of Youngstown. Was he really that naive?
Then again, his life didn't revolve around murder.
Whatever he thought, the fact was that a murderer could crop up anywhere. Their reason for becoming a killer could be environmental, could be genetic.
Yet this whole village appeared to be convinced that their troubles were not related to a local. At least not one from this century. Give them a curse or a stranger, but not one of their own.
When Conner's taillights disappeared, she shifted her attention to the village and harbor. It was dark now but the collage of lights around the waterfront twinkled in the clear night. The sailboats drifted like ghosts with their white covers shimmering in the moonlight. Squares of light glowed from the homes that clung to the hillside flanking the inlet. She could only assume that the lack of sun in the winter prompted the owners to forgo curtains or blinds on their windows. She couldn't imagine, even on the fourth floor, leaving her windows naked for anyone's viewing pleasure.
Though it had melted on the pavement and had been scraped from the parking lots and driveways, snowbanks loitered beneath trees and against the corners of buildings and rooftops. The winding street up to the inn's hilltop station had reiterated Conner's point about four-wheel drive. The first icy or snowy morning she would regret not having gone with a fully equipped SUV.
Kale Conner. She unzipped and shed her coat. Her research indicated he
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