Cinderella Search Read Online Free Page B

slam, the drawer finally opened straight, but before he could reach in for anything, it slid smoothly shut. He stared at it, then slowly pulled it open again. This time it stayed that way and he emptied it quickly, keeping a wary eye on it. Then he reached for the next drawer down. It slid open before he so much as touched it.
    He stared at it. This place was definitely weird. The building was old. So, more than likely, the floor must have sagged when he shifted his weight, causing the drawer to open on its own. Still, he rushed through the rest of his packing, irrationally wanting out of that room.
    He rolled aside the trunk on his bed to locate the T-shirt he’d shucked earlier, and uncovered one ugly brown sandal.
    Holding it on the palm on his hand, he laughed softly. “Ah-hah!”
    It was old and well-worn, with heel and toe marks clearly impressed in the sole. Ghosts didn’t wear Birkenstock sandals. Here was irrefutable proof the woman existed.
    But not proof enough that the woman was—or was not—Lissa Wilkins.
    He had a mystery on his hands. A mystery and a challenge, neither of which he could resist. Who owned that sandal and why had she been in the attic directly over his bed?
    In the meanwhile, he was looking forward to spending more time with Lissa, and learning more about her, and what she was up to.
    When Lissa returned to take him to his new room, he was taken aback by the impact of her big brown eyes on him.
    She gestured for him to precede her into the adjoining bedroom and he sauntered through the door, duffel over one shoulder, suitcase in the other hand, feeling her gaze on his back.
    The room was larger than the one he’d just left. The bed—a genuine, antique sleigh bed, or his mother hadn’t taught him one damned thing—appeared to have no sag in the middle.
    “Ahhh …” he said, sitting on the edge of it, then flopping backwards. Good! The bed was antique, but the mattress was not, and was as firm as it looked. He smiled up at Lissa Wilkins, who stood with her hands behind her back, her eyes flickering below her thick lashes and a faint flush rising up her cheeks. “Too bad I wasn’t assigned to this room in the first place. Then I wouldn’t have such a mystery to solve.”
    “Oh?” Lissa said trying to sound nonchalant. She knew exactly what mystery he was talking about, and she didn’t want him trying to solve it. She wanted him disturbed and uneasy and unable to find anything positive to say about the Madrona Inn. Even more, she wanted him gone.
    “Who knows what lurks in the dark, dusty attic rooms of the Madrona Inn?” he intoned. “Who knows what manner of creature dwells in the shadows? Who knows when the pods will hatch and the aliens come crashing through the ceilings? Will they make their way from floor to floor, devouring everyone in their path, gaining strength with each new victim they consume? Will they—”
    Lissa laughed. “Now I know that trunk hit you on the head! Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Jackson?” He lay sprawled across the bed, his head propped on a pillow. “I don’t know.” Idly, he patted the mattress as if in silent invitation. “What do you think?”
    Lissa stared at the empty area of the bed. She would fit nicely beside him, next to his outspread arm. He’d have only to curl his arm and she’d roll up against his side and—Lissa bit back a gasp. “Think?” she echoed.
    “About what else you could do for me.”
    Nothing like this had ever happened to her—not in her teenage years working as a chambermaid, nor in the two years she’d been back at the inn. Suddenly she realized she was ill prepared to deal with a man like Steve Jackson. Especially while he lay on his bed, with a provocative smile on his face, as if he knew exactly how his teasing was affecting her. If he was teasing.
    She turned to leave. “I think there’s not a thing I could do for you, Mr. Jackson.”
    “How about a nightcap?” he asked. He rolled