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to drink than normal, things might not seem to be exactly as they are.”
    “I wasn’t complaining about a ghost.” He pointed one long, tan finger. “That trunk is exactly what it seems to be. So’s the hole in the ceiling, and the crap all over my bed.”
    “Yes. Mmm-hmm. The trunk is certainly real.”
    “So,” he said, his voice taut, “is my aching nose.” He rubbed its bridge gingerly with two fingers. “The heel that kicked me didn’t belong to any ghost.”
    His nose did look as if it had been broken—though not recently. Still, she had the most ridiculous impulse to kiss it better. Get a grip, she told herself. “Those darned termites,” she said with concern. “Must have chewed clear through another beam. I hope we can make up to you for this … inconvenience.” She shook her head in despair as she stared at the damaged ceiling.
    Looking doubtful, he raised his thick brows. “Go on,” he invited.
    “Tonight, of course,” Lissa said, “I’ll move you to another room, and your stay to date will be on the house.” Then, as inspiration suddenly struck her, she added quickly, “Tomorrow, I can try to book you into another resort.”
    Of course! Her dad, the whole committee, would be so proud of her. Her unfortunate fall through the ceiling could be turned to their advantage. Surely, Steve Jackson gone was a whole lot better than Steve Jackson merely uncomfortable and sending home bad reports.
    “At this point,” he said, “what I want is another room, preferably one with a firm mattress and an intact ceiling. Tomorrow I’ll decide what I want to do. I’ve paid for three weeks in advance.”
    “I understand,” she said calmly. “Naturally, your money will be refunded and if there’s a discrepancy between our rate and that of the resort you move to, we’ll make up the difference.” If she had to make it up out of her own pocket, she’d do it.
    Again, his gaze swept over her. “If I decide to leave.”
    If? Lissa bit back an exclamation and schooled her face as best she could while she nodded. So much for her inspiration. Clearly, he wasn’t about to go along with her agenda. “Of course. Well, then, if you’d care to pack up your things, Mr. Jackson, I’ll go downstairs and get the key to your new room.
    “You may leave your toiletries in the bathroom if you wish. You’ll be moving next door to the adjoining room. Please excuse me for just a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”
    She slipped out and closed the door behind her, then stood leaning on it while she collected herself.
    What did he mean, if he decided to leave? Why would he want to stay? Now that she had the notion of getting rid of him, she couldn’t see its happening any other way. But, he didn’t appear willing to cooperate. Lissa squared her shoulders and headed back downstairs. Okay. She’d offered him an out. If he didn’t take it, if he didn’t leave tomorrow, Steve Jackson’s so-called vacation was really going to get interesting.
    As Lissa Wilkins left the room, Steve couldn’t get her out of his mind. Her bright brown eyes and her dazzling smile had hit him somewhere deep and elemental. She was tall, slender, yet voluptuous, and irrationally he believed she was the one who’d fallen through the ceiling.
    He frowned. If so, she’d made one damned fast recovery. She’d appeared minutes after the incident, unruffled, serene, and hadn’t so much as blinked when he mentioned that tattoo. Nor was there so much as a single dark mahogany hair out of place in her long, thick French braid.
    Still, those brown eyes had widened when he’d said, “If I leave.” However quickly she’d regained her composure, there had been that momentary reaction of pure dismay.
    As if she wanted him to leave. But why?
    His frown deepened as he began opening drawers to dump things in his suitcase and duffel bag. Nah. It had to be his imagination.
    A drawer jammed, and he slammed it with the heel of his hand. After another