Free Heart of Gold by Tami Hoag

to delay the opening of the inn.”
    “I know. I’ll call everyone and tell them the plumbing isn’t ready. Nothing puts people off quite like the thought of malfunctioning commodes.”
    Shane chuckled, ignoring the throbbing it set off in his head. He was surprised Faith had any sense of humor left. She’d been threatened and bullied and run ragged over the last couple of days, yet she seemed to have a reservoir of inner strength to call on when she needed it. There was a hell of a lot more to the former Mrs. William Gerrard than met the eye. And what met the eye held a lot more appeal than it should have.
    “Faith,” he began, fighting the urge to touch her again. He was beginning to have trouble concentrating on anything other than the delicate shape of her mouth and the memory of how sweet she had tasted. He had to apologize now, just get it over with and get away from her. “I was out of line last night. I had no right to accuse you of anything. I’ve seen the worst side of people for so long, I guess I’ve just come to expect it. I’m sorry.”
    “First a compliment, now an apology.” Faith shook her head. “Really, Mr. Callan, you’re making me giddy,” she said, teasing lights sparkling in her dark eyes as she fanned herself with her hand.
    “Is the apology accepted?”
    She nodded but didn’t look at him. Was he apologizing only for his belief in her culpability or for the kiss as well?
    Overhead the sound began. Ker-thump … ker-thump … ker-thump …
    Shane tensed. Faith smiled. “It’s Captain Dugan.”
    He stared at her as if she’d suddenly begun speaking Portuguese. “Who?”
    “The man who built the place.”
    “He’s dead.” His statement held all the finality of the fact.
    Faith rolled her eyes. “I know that. It’s his ghost. Ask anyone in Anastasia. They’ll all tell you the same thing. This house is haunted.”
    “Californians,” Shane grumbled, scowling darkly.
    “Skeptic,” Faith countered. A man like Shane Callan wouldn’t believe in anything that couldn’t be admitted as evidence in a court of law. She suddenly found the trait oddly endearing and decided she was losing her marbles. “Of course it’s Captain Dugan. He had a peg leg. The other ghosts here don’t make any racket at all.”
    Shane’s brows lifted. No one had warned him he would be guarding a crazy woman. “Other ghosts?”
    Faith’s look was one of feminine wisdom and mystery. “You don’t believe in ghosts, do you, Mr. Callan?”
    Not the kind that haunted houses, he thought. He knew well the ghosts that haunted one’s soul were all too real, but dead sea captains with peg legs were a whole different thing.
    He frowned at Faith as he rose from the piano bench, his head swimming as he did so. He ignored the dizziness as he had all day. It was nothing more than fatigue.
    Easing his gun from its holster, he said dryly, “I believe in justice, football, and Smith and Wesson. Go to your room, lock your door, and stay put.”
    Faith shook her head as she watched him leave. Of all the cops in the world she had to get stuck with Dirty Harry. And darn it, she had a terrible feeling she was falling for him.

FOUR
    “T HE STRESS IS making you irrational,” Faith muttered to herself as she paced the width of her bedroom. “That’s the only logical explanation. You’re not really falling for Shane Callan.”
    Her entire body seemed to reject the statement she’d just made. An ominous sense of certainty descended on her.
    She had to admit the physical attraction had been there from the beginning, from the minute she’d opened the front door and looked up into his silver eyes, from the instant she’d first heard his sexy bedroom voice. She hadn’t been able to deny it even when he had all but accused her of treason.
    Lust. There wasn’t anything rational or logical about it.
    But this was more than mere lust.
    Faith’s slim shoulders rose and fell with her sigh of defeat. She couldn’t have