Marlie's Mystery Man. Doris Rangel

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СКАЧАТЬ woman marched her straight-backed, swishy-bottomed little self out the door, Caid got out of bed, went to the closet and retrieved his jeans. If on the off chance someone could finally see him as well as hear him, he wanted to be decent. He wasn’t holding out much hope, however.

      Still, for the first time today he’d actually exchanged conversation with someone. Perhaps whatever the heck it was that had happened to him was starting to wear off.

      When Marlie returned, she had Ann with her. After hearing the story, the desk clerk had talked her out of going for the sheriff.

      Ann looked around the quiet room. “I don’t see anything or hear anything, Ms. Simms. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

      “I hadn’t gone to sleep yet,” Marlie replied shortly. “And I know what I heard. A man talked to me and he sneezed. He said he was allergic to my lavender soap.

      “Hey,” she called out to the seemingly empty room, feeling brave now that she had company. “Are you here?”

      “I’m here,” the voice answered.

      “Where?”

      “Standing about three feet in front of you.” Ker-choo!

      “There.” Marlie turned to the desk clerk in triumph. “You heard that, didn’t you? I’ll bet people in the next county did, too.”

      But Ann merely gazed back at her in confusion. “Ms. Simms, I, uh, didn’t hear anything.”

      “Sure you did,” Marlie told the desk clerk bracingly. “That sneeze registered on the Richter scale.”

      But by now, even though she wasn’t but a few years older, Ann’s look had turned motherly. She put a comforting arm around Marlie’s shoulders.

      “Ms. Simms…Marlie, I think you had too much sunshine and thin mountain air today. You crawl back into bed now, honey, and I’ll bring up a nice cup of herbal tea to help you sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

      Ker-choo!

      “You didn’t hear that?” Marlie asked in a small voice.

      “No, sweetie. You get a good night’s rest now and I’ll bet you feel tip-top by tomorrow.”

      Marlie sighed. “Perhaps you’re right. But I don’t need any tea. Really. Thanks for coming up, though.”

      She walked Ann to the door and was about to shut it behind her when she noticed the bathroom trash basket sitting by the doorway in the hall. In it was her brand-new, used only once, very expensive tablet of lavender soap.

      Marlie debated pointing this bit of evidence out to the desk clerk, who was wishing her good-night again, but in the end decided it probably wouldn’t do much good.

      After closing the door, she leaned against it to gaze accusingly into her seemingly empty bedroom. “Say something, darn it. I know you’re still here.”

      “That makes two of us.”

      There was the sound a deep sigh followed by a massive Ker-choo!

      “Oh, for goodness’ sake! Do you have to keep doing that? Ghosts aren’t supposed to sneeze.”

      “I’m not a ghost.”

      “Could’ve fooled me. What are you then?”

      “Alive, for one thing. For some reason, people just can’t see me, and so far the only person who can hear me is you.” Ker-choo!

      “Well aren’t I just the lucky one,” Marlie said nastily. “How delightful that the whole world now thinks I’m crazy.”

      “Not the whole world, just Ann Jergin. But she’s a nice girl. She won’t tell anyone.”

      “You know her?”

      “Of course I know her. We were in the same grade all through school.”

      Marlie frowned in the direction of the voice, now coming from the vicinity of the other bed. In fact, the bed looked a little depressed on one side, as if someone were sitting on it.

      “Who are you?” she asked slowly.

      “I’ll tell you after you shower. Lifebouy, Irish Spring, Dove. Take your pick. Any scent but lavender.”

      “How do I know you won’t float into the shower with me? You might be anywhere for all I know.”

      “Lock the damn door,” the voice snapped. “I can’t walk through walls. I already tried.”

      “You could be lying.”

      “Yes, ma’am, I could. You’re just gonna have to trust me now, aren’t you?”

      Why should I, Marlie wanted to ask, but didn’t. A ghost with allergies seemed…trustworthy, in a bizarre sort of way.

      Good grief! She was certifiably crazy.

      But she headed for the bathroom. Just before she closed and locked the door, however, she stuck her head out again. “Where are you?”

      “Here,” he replied, his tone one of long suffering, but the sound of his voice came from the bed. “Now get a move on. I’m tired, I’ve got a hell of a headache and I don’t want to stay up all night yakking.”

      What a crab.

      When she returned, showering in record time, the woman smelled like nothing but cleanliness. Caid had never thought of eau de clean as erotic before, but as he watched her prance across the room, then hop into bed, he had the overwhelming urge to hop into it with her.

      Huh, he thought. So she had great legs. The real attraction was probably because he could talk to her. Communication could be a powerful aphrodisiac.

      And strangely, though sharing a bed with the woman had strong appeal, going beyond sharing didn’t seem to…suit the moment.

      “What’s your name?”

      They’d asked the question at the same time.

      “You first,” the woman said. “And your story better be good, buster.”

      “Or what?” Caid asked, truly curious.

      “I’ll think of something. Don’t think I won’t. Now start talking.”

      Caid grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” But his story was no laughing matter and he sobered immediately. “I’m Caid Matthews,” he said. “Kincaid Matthews the Fourth, owner of the Rolling M.”

      “That’s your feather on the dresser, isn’t it?” she said wonderingly. “I mean, your hat. Your name is inside. I thought it was part of the hotel decor.”

      “Only since yesterday. I forgot it when I went back to the ranch.”

      He heard a startled little movement in the next bed. “Oh my Lord!” the СКАЧАТЬ