Get a Clue(2)

He was gone.

As she contemplated the aloneness of that, a small streak rushed out from the corner of the house and practically across her feet, ripping a startled scream from her.

Then the streak howled. A coyote.

The sound had the hair on the back of her neck rising as she stumbled back against the door. Don’t panic, coyotes don’t eat humans. Probably. Hugging herself, she felt very alone.

Alone, alone, alone . . . the word echoed in her head in the voice of her mother, who was certain her troubled youngest child would never marry, would never bring forth grandchildren into the world to spoil, and therefore would never amount to anything.

Shrugging that off—no more pity parties!—Breanne eyed the house. It certainly looked impressive with mounds and mounds of white snow pressed against the base, more white stuff falling, and the sky ominously dark and foreboding. Inside, there was supposedly a huge stone fireplace, a Jacuzzi tub, a sauna, a mini movie theater with an entire library of DVDs to pick from, and much, much more, including her own discreet staff for the week.

A honeymooner’s delight, right? Dean had claimed to be excited. A shame he’d not been as excited about showing up for the wedding.

No one answered her second, desperately desperate knock, which for an instant perpetuated the hope that maybe she’d been cast in some sort of new reality show called Torture the Bride. Any second now, the director would yell Cut! and then, in a This Is Your Life moment, Dean would pop out and laugh at her for falling for it.

Only there was no camera, no Dean, laughing or otherwise, nothing but snow in her face, making her eyes water, her lips cold, raising goose bumps over every inch of her flesh.

Oh, and let’s not forget the coyote, still howling in the distance with his friends, discussing eating her for dinner.

Forget polite. She opened the unlocked front door and gaped in awe at the interior of a most impressive house. She stepped inside the foyer that stretched up to the second story—and came face-to-face with a moose.

Just a head, she told herself, mounted on the wall. Slowly, purposely, she let out the air that she’d nearly used to scream. “Definitely not in Kansas anymore,” she whispered. There was also a wood mirror with shelves, each holding glass lamps that sent soft light across shiny, hardwood floors. In complete opposition to the “warm” feel of the room, the air itself danced over her, icy cold.

“Hello?” she called out, trying to stomp the snow off her clothes. Not much of it budged, happier to stick to her every inch, making her wet and miserable.

There was a reception area with a small pine desk, and a sticky note there that read:#p#分页标题#e#



Newlyweds get the honeymoon suite, complete with accessory package. Room is open and cleaned.





Well, damn it, she might not be a newlywed, but she was still getting that honeymoon suite, charged as it was to the rat bastard Dean’s credit card. She just hoped the suite was warmer than the foyer, because she could make ice cubes in here.

Clutching her small carry-on, which held only her makeup and two extremely naughty negligees that had been meant for her wedding night, she walked to the base of the huge, wooden staircase that slowly curved and vanished up into the second floor, with several big potted plants lining the way. More glass sconces along the wall lit the area so that she could see into the fading daylight. It was an Old West, cabin-style interior, beautifully and tastefully done.

But no one appeared, and she hadn’t heard a sound. Along with the daylight, much of her bravado deserted her. She didn’t relish the idea of being here alone tonight. “Hello?”

She didn’t know what the check-in procedure was, but she wondered if the huge storm had sent the staff members running for their homes in town, a one-horse place called Sunshine, of all things, a good ten miles back down the curvy, surely now snowed-in road.

They’d probably left the door unlocked for their guests, never even considering she’d be alone.

But alone she was. Thanks, Dean.

Knowing from the brochure that the honeymoon suite was on the second floor, she reached for the banister and began to climb the stairs.

“Anyone here?” she called out again at the top, stopping to pant for air. Damn altitude. The landing looked down to an open, large room below, rustic and cozy, with two forest green and maroon sofas shaped in an L, a large leather recliner, and throw rugs dotting the floor. It looked far more inviting than the cold, silent hallway where she stood, shivering like crazy from her wet clothes, and maybe nerves.

Then she realized she did hear something—running water. Proof of life! Hugging herself, she followed the noise, past three doors on the right and left, all of which appeared to be bedrooms.