It's In His Kiss

Rosebud was absolutely thunderstruck. Miss Arlotta’s warning echoed in her mind. You’re skating on thin ice…

She didn’t care if she was skating on icebergs. She knew him! The clothes and the cut of his hair might be different, but his eyes and his smile and the way he carried himself, exuding confidence and charm, were exactly the same, the same as Edmund Mulgrew, the man who had turned her from an innocent girl into a fallen maiden so long ago.

Edmund?

For the first time in 109 years, Rosebud felt her heart go pitter-patter.

2

A Tuesday in August

Maiden Falls, Colorado, 2004

ROSEBUD WAS A BUNDLE of nerves. Tonight. Ned was coming back to the hotel tonight. He was due to check in at about nine o’clock tonight according to the itinerary she’d filched from Beth’s desk. If she just waited a few more hours, she’d get to see him again. If she didn’t expire from anticipation first.

It didn’t help that the Inn was an absolute zoo and had been for weeks, with too many brides and grooms and Miss Arlotta watching her like a hawk. Here she was again, ready with a lecture.

“Your bride’s comin’ in any minute,” the madam said grimly, one hand on her wide hip. “Her and the groom’s got a fancy dinner tomorrow, stag parties the next night, wedding Friday night. They’re leaving the morning after the wedding, so you’ll have to get the fire blazing now.” She eyed Rosebud suspiciously. “You ready?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She tried to keep her physical image as indistinct as possible so Miss Arlotta couldn’t read her expression. She’d been so stunned when she first saw Ned that she hadn’t been careful, giving away too much. Her boss had gotten the idea pretty quickly that something was weird about this one.

“So you got all your plans locked and loaded for the Westicott gal and her intended? What’s his name again?”

“Ned,” Rosebud replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Ned Mulgrew.” She’d verified that much from the files in the Sales office.

Mulgrew. What were the odds? It had never occurred to her to use her laptop to find out whatever happened to the people she’d once known, maybe because she’d acquired the thing so long after she left them all behind. It was a different world now. Who knew there would be Mulgrews in it?

But once she’d spotted Ned in the lobby, she had to know. Was there a connection? Was her memory playing tricks on her? Could it be?

It could. Her quick search on the Internet had found very little on Edmund, but he must’ve married into the money he’d wanted so badly back then. Or perhaps he’d stolen it. However he’d managed to climb the ladder of success, his children’s children had become the cream of Denver society. Including his great-grandson Ned Mulgrew, age thirty, a lawyer with a top Denver firm, engaged to the equally wealthy Vanessa Westicott. Rosebud didn’t understand a thing about Ned’s job—something about corporate mergers and acquisitions—but his face seemed to appear in the newspaper a lot. And it was a very nice face.

A lot nicer than his great-grandfather’s, she’d decided. Ned seemed to have a sincerity about his smile that Edmund had lacked. And maybe a tinge of sadness in his beautiful blue eyes. Of course, it was hard to tell without seeing him close up…

“What’s his problem? Too cold? Too hard? Not into the ladies?” Miss Arlotta interrogated. “Why did he and his intended land in our laps for a quick fix?”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean, I, um, only saw him that once. The day they came to look at the hotel,” Rosebud said hastily. “But he looked, well, fine. Extra fine.” With a little more enthusiasm than she’d intended, she added, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Ned.”

“Uh-huh,” her boss said with an edge of sarcasm. “So I gather you liked what you saw?”

She barely stopped herself from gushing, Oh, yesssss. Instead she murmured, “I don’t think he’s the problem.”

“So she is?”

“Vanessa?” Rosebud couldn’t keep the scorn from her voice. “She’s a piece of work, that one.”

She had now seen enough of Vanessa Westicott to last a lifetime. She might’ve forgiven the princess her tantrums and hissy fits if she’d only brought Ned back to the hotel with her. Rosebud had been on pins and needles hoping he’d come back. But no. Every visit since that first one Vanessa had made by herself.

And every time, she’d had new demands, new complaints, until everyone in the hotel was sick of her. If it weren’t for the fact that Ned Mulgrew’s uncle was one of the owners, Vanessa and her diva antics would’ve been tossed out onto the street long ago.

“I can tell you that she’s the one who wants to get married, and she’s in a hurry so he won’t change his mind.” Rosebud frowned. “What I don’t know is why he wanted to marry that ice princess in the first place.”

“If all the brides and grooms were perfect, there’d be no need for us, would there?” Miss Arlotta asked darkly. “So you need to put a little giddy-up in her gallop. Shouldn’t be too hard if the boy is as fine as all that.”

Rosebud had no idea what that meant but it sounded unpleasant. “Giddy-up in her gallop. Right. I’m on it.”

“What’s your plan?”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Well, I’m kind of playing it by ear.”

“You’ve had a month to plan, Rosebud,” Miss Arlotta said ominously. “Don’t let me down. Make it work. Stick with the bride if she’s the problem. Feed her some oysters and a lot of wine, shove her right into his bed and turn up the heat. Tonight. Time’s a-wastin’.”

Rosebud winced. Ned in bed with Vanessa? That was an image she didn’t need infecting her brain. “I’ll do my best, but…”

“But what?”

But I don’t want him with her! I just found him, and I only got to see him once, and I don’t think it’s at all fair that I should have to help some other woman have him.

And the idea of supervising or improving their erotic activities? Eeeeuw!

“What?” Miss Arlotta asked again, more forcefully this time. “What’s the holdup?”

“Nothing,” Rosebud said quickly. “I’ll do my best.”

Her best what she left unspecified. She would worry about the pesky problem of how to help Ned and Vanessa in bed later. As for right now…

Rosebud felt excitement sizzle through her veins. Ned is coming. Tonight. She glanced at the cuckoo clock over Miss Arlotta’s desk. Five-fifteen. Less than four hours, and Ned would be here.

She had been waiting for this moment ever since she’d laid eyes on him. Ned. The spitting image of her beloved, that rascal Edmund.

Once he was here, she didn’t know whether she should kick him or kiss him. She had spent the better part of a month debating exactly that. Which was why she hadn’t bothered to come up with a plan for Vanessa.

She was much more interested in Ned. Who was he? Would he be anything like his great-grandfather? And what was he doing engaged to a witch like Vanessa?

She itched to find out.

“I don’t know why you’re still up here. Your bride is already checking in,” Miss Arlotta noted, making a shooing motion with one ghostly hand. “Day late and a dollar short before you even start. Rosebud, I swear, you’re gonna be the death of me yet.”

Rosebud refrained from pointing out that Miss Arlotta was already dead. Jittery with nerves over the idea of seeing Ned later—and having to deal with the odious Vanessa first—she murmured, “I’m going, I’m going.”

But as she flashed down to the lobby, she heard Miss Arlotta’s unamused voice in her ear. “Don’t even think about botchin’ this one, Rosebud. I’m keepin’ my eye on you.”

“Don’t worry,” she responded sweetly. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Luckily for Rosebud, the hotel was packed to the gills, so she knew it wouldn’t be as easy as all that for Miss A to monitor her, especially when the other girls were providing such good cover with their own assignments. Mimi had been complaining since yesterday about a frightened virgin of a bride who kept locking herself in the bathroom, while Glory wanted everyone to drop everything and check out her groom, because she said he had the smallest equipment she’d ever seen and it was going to be impossible to strike any sparks with that tiny thing to work with. Every time she started to describe her groom and his “Wee Willie Winkie,” she dissolved into giggles, which got Desdemoaner going with the honking snort she called a laugh.