by LENA DIAZ,
“You’d make a lousy cop.”
She blinked up at him, thrown off by the amusement in his voice and the sudden change of subject. “What are you talking about?”
He waved toward the other businesses up the street. “You’re not very observant. No one has to look out any windows when they’re standing in the open watching us, and talking about us.”
She looked up the street, then gasped and pressed her hand to her chest. Danny must have circled around them through the woods and had already blabbed his gossip. And his timing couldn’t be worse—after rush hour, when most of the residents were back in town and doing their evening shopping.
Half the businesses had people out on the boardwalk in front, chatting with one another and not trying all that successfully to pretend that they weren’t watching her and Colton. The grins and hands held over their mouths as they glanced at the two of them were a dead giveaway. As was the fact that Danny stood in the middle of one of those groups looking embarrassed when his gaze caught hers.
“I’m going to kill Danny Thompson,” she muttered.
“I’ll keep that in mind if something happens to him.” Colton’s mouth twitched suspiciously.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me.”
He cleared his throat. “It was the furthest thing from my mind.”
She crossed her arms and gave him a smug look. “Well, one good thing has come out of this. You definitely won’t be pulling out your handcuffs. Everyone will know you’re a cop. Your cover would be blown.”
“Honey, if I cuff you right now, I’ll throw in a kiss and put you over my shoulder. My hand on your pretty little bottom will convince everyone those handcuffs have nothing to do with my occupation and everything to do with our relationship. They’ll think we’re into kink.”
She pressed her hand against her mouth, her face warming more from his “bottom” comment than from the one about “kink.”
He grinned, enjoying her discomfort far too much. “Want me to prove it?” He reached behind him as if to pull out the promised handcuffs.
“Don’t you dare,” she whispered harshly.
He laughed and held his hand out for hers, waiting expectantly.
She slapped her hand in his, forcing a smile that was more a baring of her teeth. “Don’t expect me to hold your hand once we’re inside the inn.”
His smile faded and he pulled her hand to his chest, clasping it over his heart in a gesture obviously designed for their audience but that had her suddenly feeling...unfocused.
“All I plan to do once we get there is talk,” he assured her. “Promise.”
The kindness in his eyes, in his voice, was as unexpected as it was confusing. It was as if he realized how embarrassed she was and he felt bad about it. Maybe the show he was putting on really was just to keep his cover from being blown, and not to humiliate her.
And if she was being honest with herself, this predicament really was her fault. She never should have put her hand on Colton’s rather impressively muscled chest that his snug T-shirt did nothing to conceal and told Danny they were old friends. She should have come up with a better story than that. Colton was simply continuing the fiction that she’d created.
Dang, she hated that she couldn’t be mad at him about that.
She turned toward the B and B, forcing him to lower her hand or wrench her shoulder from its socket. And as she strode toward the steps with him practically glued to her side, it occurred to her that heading into the B and B would give the gossips even more fodder. But the alternative was to head uptown and face everyone’s questions.
The inn was the safer choice.
She pushed the front door open and stepped inside.
He gave her a disapproving look. “You should keep that door locked when you’re not here.”
“Why? Everyone knows everyone around here. We’re all a big family.”
“Which family member pointed the gun at us when we were on the airboat?”
She hesitated, then continued toward the great room to the right of the stairs. “I already told you that I don’t know who the gunman was. And, honestly, I don’t see what else you could possibly ask me that I didn’t already answer when that other detective interviewed me. As I explained to him, I don’t—”
“Where’s the vase?”
“What?” She turned around.
He stood in front of the registration desk and gestured toward the middle cubby where the gorgeous blue vase had sat this morning. But now the spot was empty. And there was only one person she could think of who’d have taken it. Eddie. Probably to protect her in case the police went to her inn to question her after the botched holdup attempt.
“Did you call someone and tell them to hide it?” he asked.
“Of course not. Why would I? Assuming I could even get a call to work around here. Trust me, this inn is right in the middle of an electronics dead zone.”
“Maybe you called from the south dock, after you found out that I was a cop, and you remembered my interest in that vase. You were worried that you’d get into trouble for accepting stolen property. So you asked a friend to move it somewhere else.”
She crossed her arms. “Or maybe, like you said, I should have kept my front door locked.”
His mouth twitched. “I guess I deserved that one.”
The man really shouldn’t smile like that. It made her notice those incredible blue eyes again and it was killing her concentration.
“What does a vase that may or may not be stolen have to do with you interviewing me about the gunman anyway?”
He leaned against the registration desk and crossed his long legs at the ankles. “Fair question. How about we start over? I’m Collier County Deputy Colton Graham. I’m working undercover to bring down a burglary ring that’s been operating in Naples for the past six months. This morning I followed one of the suspects here to Mystic Glades. The same man who held up that blue vase in front of your inn and then went inside—Eddie Rafferty. The same man who I believe pointed a gun at a boat full of people this morning when he tried to rob them, when he tried to rob you and me. Does that clear it up?”
She raised her chin a notch. “I suppose it does. What’s clear is that you’ve made a terrible mistake. The vase you believe to be stolen obviously looks like some other vase. You’ve confused the two.”
“Oh, I have, have I?”
“You most certainly have. And since I can’t tell you who that gunman was, there’s no point in even continuing this conversation.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
She let out an impatient breath. “In case you’ve forgotten, I have a grand opening tomorrow. And although most everything is ready, I’d like to take advantage of the last few hours of daylight that we have left to double-check all the rooms and menus. And I also need to confirm that my two helpers are still set to arrive in the morning. Which means I have to run an errand, to go visit them.”
“Them? Just who are these helpers?”
“Not that you really need to know, but I’ve hired a friend’s daughter, Tippy, to help me run the inn all summer, starting tomorrow. The work will look good on her résumé, since she’s pursuing a degree in hospitality.”
“You said them. Who else is coming?”
“Her boyfriend, Jenks. He’ll do the chores around here.” She waved her hand impatiently. “None of that matters. Like I said, I need to make sure everything is set. You’re of course welcome to stay in your room, free of charge, as long as you don’t interfere with my work. It’s the least I can do for a police officer. I’ll cancel the charge against your credit card.”
“Very kind of you,” he said, his voice dry.
“If that’s all, then, I’ll just go—”
“There was a small painting displayed here earlier. It’s missing, too.” He gestured toward the wall of cubbies behind the registration desk.
She noted the empty square and let out a cry of dismay. “That was one of my favorite pieces.”
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“Eddie sold you that one, too, huh?”
Her stomach sank with dread. No, he hadn’t sold it to her. “Why did you remember that particular painting?” she whispered.
“You know why.” His voice was soft this time, kind even, without its accusatory edge. As if he realized she’d just had a shock, even if he didn’t understand why.
She could do without his pity. She certainly didn’t deserve it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she have been so gullible? Even though she considered herself a temporary caretaker of the vase and other items that Eddie had sold her, she’d never once suspected that the painting was stolen, too.
It had been a gift, no money exchanged between them. He’d brought it to her after she helped him study for an algebra final exam. He’d been close to tears, telling her he wouldn’t have graduated if she hadn’t helped him. The painting was his way of saying thank-you and had supposedly been purchased with money from mowing lawns and other odd jobs he’d worked last summer. She’d treasured it, not for its beauty, but for the sentiment behind it. And now to find out that it was just like everything else he’d brought broke her heart.
She sank onto the nearest chair, a ladder-back she’d restrung herself, after painting the wood a cozy, happy yellow. But even her favorite chair couldn’t make her smile now.
A few weeks ago, she’d thought she had everything under control. Things were going as planned. And she’d believed—foolishly, she now realized—that she could cover for Eddie, at least until she managed to extricate him from the mire he was caught up in. And then, once that was taken care of, she’d planned to have a heart-to-heart talk with him and insist all the stolen items be returned. She’d be his advocate in court. She’d explain everything that had been going on in the hopes that the court would be understanding and would be lenient with him. She’d hoped to save him. But now, thanks to this irritating, nosy cop, it was clear that she might have done more harm than good.
Colton sighed and crouched down in front of her, his face a study in compassion. He took her hands between his, surprising her so much that she didn’t try to pull back. She stared into his cobalt-blue eyes and was rather shocked at the zing of awareness that shot through her. Before now she’d thought of him only as a potential model for one of her projects, or the irritating police officer who was interfering with her life. But now, seeing that gentle, concerned look on his face, with those incredible eyes seeming to delve into her very soul, she was noticing him in an entirely different way. A way that made her body melt from the inside out.
Good grief. She was attracted to him.
She yanked her hands from his and pressed back against the chair. This was even more of a disaster than she’d feared. There was no room, and no time in her life for a relationship. Not now. And certainly not with a man who was, in many ways, her enemy.
He sighed and stood, looking mildly disappointed in her. And for some reason, that stung.
“We can rule out that a stranger came in here and robbed you,” he said, “unlocked door or not. Whoever took the vase and that painting was specifically here for those items.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If a typical burglar had come in here, he wouldn’t have left behind the other valuables.” He waved toward the network of shelves.
Not sure what he was talking about, she looked at the mixture of plants, books and other knickknacks decorating each cubby. “I don’t understand what you mean. Everything of value was taken.”
He gave her an incredulous look and pointed at a small five-by-seven painting on the third shelf down. “That has to be worth several hundred dollars.” He pointed to another one on the far right. “And that one? I can’t even guess. But I’ve had a crash course in art valuation on various assignments this past year and I know that painting would fetch an exorbitant price at auction.”
She blinked, wondering just what he meant by exorbitant. “You think those pieces are...valuable?”
“Of course.” He searched her gaze. “You don’t?”
Her face flushed with heat and she shrugged. “I suppose so. Maybe.” Since she was the one who’d created those particular pieces to decorate the inn, she’d never thought about their monetary value. It was...nice, unexpected...to have someone besides her look at them and think they held more than just sentimental value. Although art, and making art, had always been important to her, she’d never felt confident enough to try to sell any of her pieces. They never seemed good enough.
His look turned suspicious, as if he thought she was lying about the paintings. Maybe he believed they were stolen, too, but that they hadn’t popped onto his radar yet. She’d like to put his mind at ease, but telling him that he’d just complimented her own work felt far too...intimate...to share with him after all the lies she’d told. And the threats he’d made.
Intimate? Who was she kidding? She’d asked him to pose nude for her. It didn’t get much more intimate than that. But that was all about her art. Now, knowing he was a cop and that she’d asked him to pose for her, she was mortified.
He stepped closer to study one of her canvases, a depiction of the Glades at dawn, with fields of golden saw grass bending in the breeze while a whooping crane searched for its next meal. Colton was probably looking for the artist’s signature to see if it was listed with the other stolen goods he was investigating. Before he could find her initials hidden in the intricate details of a wildflower near the bottom right corner, she rose from her chair, drawing his attention.
“Are we finished here?” she asked.
“Are you ready to finally tell the truth?”
If only it were that simple. But the truth would bring more policemen, scouring through the woods, putting all the residents on high alert. And that would be a disaster.
“What else do you want to know?” she asked, beginning to fear that this was a losing battle. The man just didn’t know when to quit.
“Where’s Eddie Rafferty?”
Hopefully lying low, staying out of harm’s way until she could get to him.
“I don’t know.”
“And you wouldn’t tell me if you did, would you?”
She braced her hand on the edge of the registration desk, her fingers curling against the wood. “He’s not the bad person that you think he is. He’s just a kid—”
“He’s eighteen, legally an adult. Old enough to vote, old enough to die for his country. Which means he’s plenty old enough to know right from wrong, and he should pay the consequences for the choices he’s made. Where is he?”
She wasn’t sure, but she knew who his friends were. And even though Eddie didn’t know that she knew, she also knew his favorite hiding places. Finding him wouldn’t be all that difficult. And she needed to find him. Because that attempted holdup had changed everything. She’d bring him into the police station herself if she could just get this relentless detective to give her a break so she could slip away and bring Eddie in safely.
“Silver, this is your chance to do the right thing. Tell me where he is.”
Again, his voice was soft, understanding. Too bad they were on opposite sides. He was exactly the sort of man she could like, respect, admire. But his timing couldn’t be worse.
“And if I don’t do the right thing, you’re going to arrest me?”
He frowned, his dark eyebrows lowering. “I don’t want to. But if you force my hand, I will.”
She considered her options, her plans. But there was really only one option that she could think of that would end this stalemate without sacrificing Eddie. Even if it meant sacrificing the inn, and everything that she’d worked for.
She held her hands out, palms up. “I guess I’m forcing your hand.”
Chapter Six
“What the Fourth of July were you thinking, Detective?”
Colton would have laughed at his boss’s die-hard commitment to avoid cursing, but his ears were ringing from the shouting. He belatedly wished he hadn’t closed the office door.
Then maybe some of the sound waves would have swept through the open doorway into the squad room, reducing the shouts to a bearable decibel level. Then again, with the door open, what few peers of his were still around, owing to the late hour, would hear the dressing-down he was being given. So maybe the closed door was a good thing. It was a toss-up.
He rested his forearms on his knees and leaned forward in his chair. Drew glared at him from behind his desk, his face so red he looked as if he was about to have a stroke. Colton was doing his best to calm him down, but nothing he’d said so far was working. He supposed he was just going to have to weather the storm.
“What else was I supposed to do?” he said, keeping his voice as calm and nonconfrontational as possible. “She basically told me to arrest her.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have expected you to actually do it.” Drew shoved a folder out of his way, frowned, then picked it up and put it on a stack of folders, carefully aligning all the edges.
Again, Colton wanted to laugh. Or knock the stack askew just to see Drew straighten it again. But he rather enjoyed his job—most of the time—and didn’t relish the idea of being fired.
“I can just see this in social media,” Drew practically growled. “Collier County Deputy Manhandles Woman Who Witnessed Attempted Holdup.”
“Witnessed, my...” His boss’s warning glare made Colton stop before he broke the golden no-cursing rule that Drew had instituted after taking over the leadership from the former lieutenant. Trying to clean up the department’s poor image in the press was a worthy goal, certainly. But the no cursing, even when civilians weren’t present, seemed a bit extreme—especially to guys like Colton who spent much of their time undercover. Criminals didn’t go around saying darn and shoot, and neither did Colton when he was pretending to be one of them. Which just made it all that much harder when he was in the office. Like now.