Always A Mcbride. Linda Turner

was asking himself the same thing. He’d seen a sign for the town library and hospital, and they’d passed a beauty salon and a lawyer’s office on the way to the garage. The one thing he hadn’t seen was anything that even resembled a Best Western. “That’s a good question,” he retorted. “Aren’t there any hotels around here?”

      “Nope. Myrtle Henderson has a boarding house, though. I heard she was turning it into a bed and breakfast. You might try there. It’s a big old Victorian house down the street on the right. You can’t miss it. It’s right next to the only antique store in town.”

      Considering how off the beaten track Liberty Hill was, Taylor doubted the place was booked for the night. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll give it a try.”

      Myrtle Henderson’s place was right where the tow-truck driver had said it was…and as dark as the rest of the buildings in town. Irritated, Taylor stood at the front gate and swore softly. What was it with this town? Did everybody go to bed with the chickens?

      Scowling, he would have gone somewhere else for the night, but there was nowhere else. He was well and truly stuck, and if he couldn’t wake Myrtle Henderson, he’d be sleeping on a bench in the park…if this damn town even had a park!

      Fuming, he pushed open the gate and strode up the walk to the front porch. Next to the old-fashioned, oval-glassed door, the doorbell glowed softly in the night. He jabbed it stiffly, sending the faint, cheery tinkle of its bell echoing through the silent house. Twenty seconds passed, then a minute, and still, the house remained as dark and quiet as a tomb.

      Scowling, he swore and had just lifted his hand to pound on the door when he saw a light suddenly flare on inside the front entry of the old house. A split second later, the porch light was flipped on, and through the lace curtain covering the glass oval of the door, he saw the vague figure of a woman approach. Finally! he thought with a sigh of relief as she shot the dead bolt free. Maybe he wouldn’t have to sleep on that park bench, after all.

      His only thought was to get a room. It wasn’t until the woman started to pull the door open that he remembered he had to look like something that had just crawled out of a swamp. His clothes were wet and torn, his hair plastered to his head. Any woman with sense would send him packing the second she laid eyes on him, not invite him in and rent him a room.

      Idiot! he raged silently. He should have gone over to the diner and cleaned up some before approaching her. It was, however, too late for that. He’d have to muddle through an explanation the best he could and hope she believed him.

      “I’m sorry for disturbing you so late,” he began as the door was finally pulled open completely. “I had an accident in my car when I was coming into town, and I need a place to stay….”

      That was as far as he got. No longer concealed behind the lace curtain of the door was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. Stunned, he felt his jaw drop and could do nothing but stand there like a fool with his mouth hanging open. When the tow-truck driver had said Myrtle Henderson was turning her boarding house into a bed and breakfast, he’d assumed for some reason that she was an older woman. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

      In the stark light of the entry hall’s old brass chandelier, this woman quite simply stole his breath. Maybe it was the angle of the light or simply the stress of walking away from an accident that could have killed him, but he took one look at her and felt as though he’d stepped into a faded photograph from another century. Everything about her was soft—the cascade of blond hair that fell in soft waves past her shoulders, the old-fashioned gown and robe that covered her completely, but still somehow appeared to be as gossamer as a dream. Obviously, she was fresh from her bath—he could clearly smell the scent of her soap, and her hair was damp around the edges—but he couldn’t take his eyes off her face. No woman had a right to look so beautiful without makeup.

      The thought had hardly registered—and had time to irritate him—when he suddenly realized he was staring. Stiffening, he reminded himself that he was there for a room, nothing else. “The tow-truck driver said you were turning your boarding house into a bed and breakfast,” he continued stiffly. “I—”

      Behind him, lightning suddenly ripped through the night sky, and right on its heels was a crack of thunder so loud it could have stopped the devil himself in his tracks. Before Taylor could say another word, the lights went out.

      Chapter 2

      Startled, Phoebe gasped. Darkness engulfed her like a shroud, blinding her, and for a moment, she could see nothing but the sharp flash of the lightning outside and the silhouette of the stranger at the door.

      In the darkness, he was huge! Phoebe felt her heart jump into her throat and reminded herself that she wasn’t one of those women who was easily scared. After all, there was no reason to be nervous. She was in Liberty Hill, Colorado, for heaven’s sake! There were no ax murderers here, no rapists, no serious criminals at all. She couldn’t imagine a safer place in America.

      So she wasn’t afraid…exactly. It was just that her imagination had always worked overtime on stormy nights, and tonight was no exception. With her heart pounding crazily and the stranger filling the doorway with his dark silhouette, she could almost believe that he was some dark, avenging angel who’d been sent by her father to demand an explanation of why she was at Myrtle’s when she should have been home, taking care of his business. That was just the kind of thing Jack Chandler would have done. He’d never had much patience for following dreams, especially if it meant walking away from an established business. Money was the bottom line, and if her father somehow knew that she was at his mother-in-law’s, trying her hand at running what he would have considered an artsy-fartsy bed and breakfast that had no chance of ever making a dime, he’d be spinning in his grave.

      For a moment, guilt pulled at her, but then her common sense quickly asserted itself. “Idiot!” she silently chided herself. There was no reason to feel guilty. She was an adult and could spend her vacation—and her life—any way she chose.

      As for the fierce stranger at the door, she’d taken one look at him before the lights had gone off and seen by the cynical curve of his mouth that he was no angel. He was just a man who was in trouble and needed help while she was standing there like a ninny, letting her imagination run away with her!

      “Actually, my grandmother is the one who owns the place,” she said huskily. “But I’m taking care of things while she’s on vacation. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll get a candle. The old wiring in this house doesn’t handles storms very well.”

      Leaving him at the door, she turned away and quickly, blindly, made her way through the dark house, avoiding chairs and tables whose location she knew as well as the lines on the back of her hand. She hadn’t lied about the wiring—it was nearly as old as her grandmother—and even though it could be an inconvenience at times, she’d loved it as a child when a storm blew the old circuit breakers. Unruffled, Myrtle would pull out the oil lamps and candles, set water on to boil on the gas stove, and they’d have a tea party in the dark. Mrytle would tell her stories of all their dead ancestors and how they’d come to Colorado in covered wagons. Her stories had always been fun and magical and full of adventure, and to this day, Phoebe still loved storms.

      Smiling at the memories that pulled at her as she reached the pantry, she quickly located the stash of emergency matches and candles Myrtle kept there and hurriedly lit a candle. Outside, the storm still raged, but she didn’t have time to enjoy it, not when the stranger still waited for her at the front door. Placing a small glass chimney around the candle, she hurried back to the front door.

      For a moment, she thought her unexpected guest had left. The door was standing wide open, and in the flickering light of the candle, there was no sign of him. Frowning, she moved to the open doorway and lifted her candle high…just as he stepped in front of her. Startled, she almost dropped the candle. He moved like a cat in the darkness! “Oh!” she gasped softly. “I thought you’d gone.”

      “I was just checking the sky,” he retorted. “Do you ever