If he looked up and saw what looked like a whirlwind of light making its way across the room, he'd probably leap out of his shoes.
She bit back a giggle. It was probably just as well Jason couldn't see Matthew. It would be bad enough if he ever found himself face to face with a guy who looked like he was on his way to a costume ball but if he found he could see through him...
"Who is he?"
This time, at least, she didn't scream, though she couldn't keep from giving a little jump and dropping the knife she'd been using onto the floor.
She bent down, picked it up and rinsed it at the sink. Then, as if she had all the time in the world, she turned and looked at Matthew, who was standing in the doorway.
"Walking into a room unannounced isn't very polite, you know." She opened the refrigerator again and took out a container of conch salad. "But I don't suppose you let things like that bother you much."
"I asked you a question, Kathryn. Who is that man?"
"I heard you. And it's none of your business."
"Are you his mistress?"
Carefully, she arranged lettuce leaves and tomato slices in a circle around a plate. Then she opened the container of salad and began spooning it into the center.
"Are you his lover?"
Kathryn looked up. "Is there a difference?" she asked politely.
"Forgive me. The questions were foolish. Obviously, you are neither."
"Isn't that nice?" she said, even more politely. "You're not only a ghost, you're also a clairvoyant.
"
Matthew looked grim. "If you were his mistress, you'd be in that bed with him now because he would want it."
"What an interesting perception."
"If you were his lover, you'd be there because you would want it."
Kathryn began to set the table. "A charming distinction," she said, "but wrong. I wouldn't be in that bed under any circumstances, not so long as you might be standing in the corner, watching."
"Your modesty is touching."
"Jason will be down soon, Matthew. I'd appreciate it if—"
"If you are not his mistress or his lover, what is he doing here?"
"I told you, it's none of your business."
"It is, so long as we share this house."
Kathryn's patience ran out. She swung around eyes snapping.
"Sharing it certainly isn't my idea. If you don't like the arrangement, get out. I'm not stopping you."
For an instant, the arrogant look slipped from his face.
"No, you are not. But someone is. God. Or the Devil. I know not which."
What did he mean? And why did he look so upset? She almost asked him but then she remembered how he had treated her last night, the way he had told her to leave Charon's Crossing, and her resolve, as well as her spine, stiffened.
"I'm not going to get into a philosophical debate," she said coolly. "No matter what you say, this house belongs to me. And I'm not going to be questioned or ordered around while I'm in it."