“Get the manager,” Vanessa seethed. “Now.”
“Van, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
“You didn’t make the arrangements, Ned. I did. I checked and rechecked everything, and that moron of a wedding consultant assured me we were all set. I am stressed out enough with the wedding plans and I need my sleep.” She shook her head. “I told you this place wasn’t good enough, but you insisted. And now they’re making all kinds of mistakes, just like I knew they would.”
“We were lucky to get in here,” he reminded her. “Uncle Jerry pulled major strings to make it happen. I would’ve been happy to wait till next year or whenever we could get whatever palace it was you wanted, but you insisted it had to be now.”
“Do not take that tone with me,” Vanessa snapped.
Oooh, goodie! Fireworks! Rosebud took a jaunty slide down the banister to get closer. It was beginning to sound as if she wouldn’t need to do much work to keep these two apart, what with the separate rooms and all the hostility.
Ned sighed. “Van, we’re getting married in three days. Do you really want to argue about this now? Trust me. We’ll fix it.”
He sounded so calm. Darn it. Fizzling all the fireworks before they got started.
To the desk clerk, Ned said, “Do you have another room you can give me? Anything is fine.”
“Well, sir…The Inn is packed, I’m afraid. All I have is a small single room tucked into the back of the third floor.”
Rosebud gulped. What? A small room tucked into the back of the third floor? There was only one room at the Inn that fit that description. Her old room. The one Miss Arlotta had sent her to on that Sunday night back in 1895.
The clerk continued. “It’s available because it’s a single, and frankly…” He grinned. “We don’t do a lot of business with singles, if you know what I mean. I think it’s a nice room, just small. Sometimes an extra bridesmaid takes it. I don’t know if—”
“It’ll do,” Vanessa interrupted. “He said anything was fine.”
As Vanessa took off in the elevator with the bellman and all fifteen pieces of her luggage, bound for the Lady Godiva Suite, Rosebud stayed where she was on the banister, her mind reeling.
How bizarre. How intimate. Ned, the instant connection, the instant longing, and now…He would be staying in her old room?
If she didn’t know better, she might’ve thought this was all kismet or destiny or something. Impetuous, romantic Rose Elizabeth Tate had been a firm believer in those things. But Rosebud the cynical spirit, stuck floating in the rafters for the past 109 years, was not.
With his key in hand, Ned picked up his bag and made straight for the big, ornate staircase that curved around behind the desk. Straight for her. Startled, she toppled sideways, falling off the banister onto the bottom step. Ouch.
“Sir, you’re on the third floor. You might want to take the elevator,” the clerk called out.
“Nah, I’m good.” He smiled again and Rosebud weakened, standing up and edging more toward the middle of the staircase, that much closer to his path. It couldn’t hurt to reach out, to touch him ever so slightly, could it? He’d never even feel it.
But when he swept past, when she brushed her invisible fingers gently along the line of his jaw, Rosebud began to tremble. My stars. She felt warm and shaky and…That was intense. She slammed backward with a thump, hitting the newel-post.
“What the hell?” Ned paused on the stairs. With his hand cupping his jaw, right where she’d touched him, he turned around, glancing up and down the staircase.
“Are you okay, sir?” the desk clerk asked from down below.
“I’m, uh, fine. Just fine. For a minute, I thought…” He dropped his hand. “Nothing.” And then he started back up the stairs.
It took her a second or two to collect herself, but then Rosebud made up her mind. Miss Arlotta had ordered her to stick with the bride, but she didn’t care. There was no way she was running over to the suite to check on the odious Vanessa, no matter how hard Miss A came down on her later for neglecting her duty.
“I’m sticking with him,” she whispered, hustling along to catch up.
By the time she got to the small room at the back of the third floor, he had his suitcase open on the bed to unpack. Rosebud hung back by the door, afraid to touch him or get in his way after that scary encounter on the stairs.
Who knew what might happen if their atoms collided? Would she burst into flame?
As she looked around, she realized she hadn’t been in this room in quite a while, preferring to spend her time in her hideaway in the attic. But it was a pretty room, especially since they’d renovated it along with the rest of the hotel. Now it had an antique sleigh bed in glossy cherry wood, a matching dresser and mirror and a lovely armoire that held the TV and minibar. Plus Ned. She smiled. Who could ask for anything more?
Busy unpacking, he didn’t seem to notice the extra presence in the room. Rosebud flitted around the corner to check out the marble bath and sink and then back into the main room, poking her nose into Ned’s toiletries and accoutrements. She told herself she was filing away information for later use, but the truth was, she was greedy for knowledge about Ned.
Ooh, he’d unpacked a tuxedo. Basic black, with a white formal shirt and a small black tie. She could only imagine what Ned would look like in that. A lot like Edmund, probably. She swallowed. She had, of course, seen Edmund in formal evening wear quite a few times, and the sight had been devastatingly handsome. But Ned…Ned was even better.
As he crossed to the phone, leaving a message for someone about picking up his tuxedo to take to the cleaners, she couldn’t hold herself back. She slipped over to finger the tucks down the front of his formal shirt, leaning into the closet, inhaling the scent of him that clung to his clothes. She began to pick through the hangers. Button-down shirts, a suit jacket in a smooth wool…
“I’m losing it,” he said out loud, taking a step toward the closet. “First I hear my name and there’s nobody there, then that weird thing on the stairs, and now my clothes are moving all by themselves.”
Ooops. She hadn’t realized she’d lifted the sleeve of his suit jacket up to her nose. As unobtrusively as she could manage, Rosebud let it drop back into place. She edged her way around the outside of the room, skirting carefully around Ned to the window next to the bed. Quietly she eased it open, letting in the cool mountain air. On the other side of the room, Ned was fixated on the closet, moving one hanger at a time, staring at his clothes as if he expected them to sprout wings.
Rosebud flailed her arms around, whipping up the lace curtains at the window. Gaining speed, she swooshed around the room a few times like the spirit of the North Wind. She even made a slight howling noise. It was the best she could think of on short notice.
Ned spun around. “Oh. The window’s open.” He sighed with relief. “Just a stiff breeze. Of course there’s a rational explanation.”
Of course. As he shut the window and pulled the curtains closed, Rosebud sighed with relief. Trying to stay out of the way and not get into any more trouble, she stretched out on the sleigh bed, careful not to squash the pillow or make an indentation.
It was strangely enjoyable simply watching Ned move around the room. The other girls were always snickering about some fine manly form or other, but she hadn’t paid attention in a long, long time. But now that she looked, she had to say, man-watching did make for a good show. The play of muscle under his shirt was very interesting. And the sight of his trousers, stretching against his tight bottom when he bent over to put away his socks…Mmmm…
Shameless, she told herself as she ogled his derriere. And not fair to Ned. Why, Rose, you’re no better than a voyeur.