Jenny nodded, picked up her overnight bag, went into the bedroom, and closed the door.
Two seconds later, her head popped out. “Any chance you’d have an extra T-shirt? Mine . . . went in the trash after . . .”
“No problem.”
He walked into his room, pulled a white cotton V-neck out of the secondhand dresser, and tossed it in her direction.
“Thanks.” Jenny snagged it out of the air and closed the door as he walked back into the living room.
Cain sank down on the sofa.What a helluva night.He thought of Jenny in his big king-size bed and wondered if he’d actually be able to sleep.
* * *
Something shifted in the air. Jenny felt it the same way she had before, and her eyes popped open. It wasn’t Ryder who stood at the foot of the bed; it was something different, something in the shape of a man that wasn’t a man. Something dark and sinister that could float on the slight currents of air in the bedroom.
Her breathing hitched.It’s only a dream, she told herself, but when she sat up in bed, she realized her eyes were wide open and she could see his bloody, battered face. A pair of eyes that glowed like red neon gleamed from swollen black sockets in sunken, hollow cheeks.
Jenny screamed, a shriek of terror that sliced through the walls with the squeal of a buzz saw. Cain burst through the door, which, in a show of trust, she hadn’t locked.
Cain strode toward her. “What is it?” He glanced around. “Where is he?” His gaze went in search of Ryder, but Jenny shook her head. “What’s going on?”
She was trembling from head to foot. She couldn’t believe this was happening—not again. “There was . . . was a man at the foot . . . foot of the bed. A man but . . . but not a man.”
Cain frowned. “A man but not a man,” he repeated darkly.
“Yes, no . . . I don’t know. I think . . . I think it was a ghost.”
Cain sighed, his exasperation clear. “It was just a dream, honey. You were attacked, damn near raped. It’s bound to cause some kind of trauma.”
She could feel her eyes welling. She wasn’t a crier, yet tonight all she wanted to do was weep.
Cain pulled her up from the bed into his arms. Stupid as it was, Jenny didn’t resist. There was something about Cain Barrett that made her feel safe. She took a steadying breath, and her trembling eased, then faded altogether. Jenny clung to him a moment more, then let him go.
She raked back her sleep-tangled hair. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this. I’m not usually so much trouble.”
Cain’s lips twitched. “You’re no trouble, Jenny Spencer. I’m glad I was around to help.”
She relaxed and managed to smile.
“Think you’ll be able to sleep?” Cain asked, and this time, it wasn’t amusement she saw in his gold-rimmed brown eyes; it was heat.
Or maybe it was just her imagination, which seemed to be on a roll tonight. “I think so. I’m sorry I woke you.” But seeing what appeared to be a ghost wasn’t something she was going to forget anytime soon.
“No moresorry’s,” Cain said. “Things happen. When they do, we deal with them.”
“Right.” She hoped that sounded strong and capable, but she doubted it. For the first time, she remembered the T-shirt he had loaned her. It modestly came to her knees, but the soft white cotton also outlined her body, and the V was deep enough to reveal the tops of her breasts. “Good night, Cain,” she said softly.
“Good night, Jenny.”
Cain closed the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SUNDAY MORNING ARRIVED AT THEGRANDVIEWHOTEL AND, WITHit, the construction crew, electricians, plumbers, a pair of interior designers up from Scottsdale, and miscellaneous other members of the team. All the workers were being paid extra to get the job done as quickly as possible.
Unwilling to wake Jenny, Cain showered in the guest bathroom and put on the clothes he had worn the night before. He ignored the dark stains that were Ryder Vance’s dried blood. He doubted anyone would know what it was. Cain headed downstairs.
“Mornin’, Cain.” Jake Fellows, a fit, well-built man in his fifties, was the general contractor heading up the remodel.
