Bone Island 01 - Ghost Shadow by Heather Graham Page B

it.”
    “I’m so glad to give you something familiar, and happy to make you feel right at home,” she said flatly.
    He grinned. By day, she was surprised to realize what a fine face he had. He had a look that was intense, as if the world around him was solemn. But when he smiled his grin broke the chiseled structure, and lightened his eyes. Without a smile, he was compelling-tall, well built, lithe, an outdoorsman with bronzed skin, honed muscles and the rugged appeal that went with it all. When he did pause to smile or laugh, there was an added dimension to him that was even more appealing; the man was sensual.
    She wasn’t admiring him, she decided. He’d ruined her life, and he remembered her as a little kid. Sean’s much younger sister.
    “I really wish you understood what I feel about the museum,” he said. “I’m not out to destroy anyone’s dream.”
    “Well, you managed anyway,” she said. She remembered her apparel-and the fact that she looked like Simba on a very bad mane day.
    They were both holding the newspaper. She tugged at it. “Thanks for my paper,” she said. He released it immediately.
    Behind her, she felt Bartholomew. “Hey, he’s trying to be nice,” Bartholomew said.
    She forced a rigid smile.
    “You think you can talk him into seeing it all your way, remember?” Bartholomew asked. “Invite him in. I just made coffee!”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, not thinking.
    David Beckett’s dark brown brows arched high. “Pardon?”
    “Sorry, I’m sorry,” she murmured. She cleared her throat and looked around. It was going to be a beautiful day. Hot, but with a really nice breeze coming through. “I’ve just brewed a pot of coffee, if you’d like to come in.”
    He hesitated.
    “Seriously, you’re welcome to come in,” she said. “If you don’t mind helping yourself for a moment and letting me run up.”
    “You’re going to try to convince me to sell the museum,” he said.
    “Well, I won’t be able to if you’re really determined, right?”
    “I was actually headed to the Starbucks at La Concha. Sure, I’d love a cup of coffee,” he told her.
    “Then, please…” She indicated the steps.
    She came in behind him but headed straight for the stairs. “Go ahead, help yourself. I’ll be right down.”
    She showered, dressed and brushed her hair with the speed of light and came hurrying back down the stairs. Heading toward the kitchen, she stopped. David Beckett was sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, perusing the paper and sipping coffee.
    Bartholomew was sitting across from him, one leg tossed casually over the other, his fingers laced around his knees as he observed David attentively.
    David Beckett, of course, was oblivious to him.
    “Thus far, he has perpetrated no evil deeds,” Bartholomew said, immediately aware of Katie’s presence and looking up at her.
    She ignored him. She had gotten very good-most of the time-at ignoring his comments.
    She poured herself a cup of coffee and came striding toward the table. Bartholomew instantly moved over to make room for her. She wasn’t sure what ghosts felt when the living-or inanimate objects-went through them, but Bartholomew wasn’t fond of being sat upon, she knew. A husky fellow at karaoke had sunk down upon his lap once, and Bartholomew’s face had screwed into such an expression of distaste that Katie had quickly lowered her head to hide a laugh.
    “So.” She held her cup in both hands and sipped from it. “Lovely day.”
    “The kind I remember,” he said.
    “What are you doing while you’re here?” she asked him. “You did say you weren’t staying.”
    He shrugged. “I don’t like to think of anything as permanent,” he told her. “I don’t have fixed plans at the moment. I’ll spend some time with Liam, and with my great-aunts. Alice and Esther. I believe you know them-everyone always seemed to, anyway.”
    Katie nodded. “Of course. They don’t spend much time in town,