I laid a hand on Vaughan’s wrist. “Of course. That’s not a problem at all.” What else did I have going on that night, anyway? “Just tell me what I have to do.”
• • •
THE FRONT desk was a simple, dark wood structure topped with a slab of white granite with gray veins. There wasn’t a stray paper in sight. “I keep it neat,” Vaughan said. “Clutter is the enemy of success.”
Her orders were simple. If the guests needed something, I should bring that item to them. Otherwise, the ten guest rooms were booked up through the summer, and in the unlikely event that someone called looking for a room after Labor Day, Vaughan would call them back. Easy.
To pass the time, Vaughan kept a stack of celebrity magazines hidden in one of the drawers of the front desk. I flipped through them absently after she left and the cocktail party guests began to disperse. Before I knew it, I had been sitting at the desk for almost forty-five minutes and I hadn’t spoken to a single soul. I put the magazines away and started stringing colored paper clips into a necklace. I would have been bored, except that the alternative was sitting in my cottage with a homicidal cat.
About fifty minutes into my assignment, I set down my paper clips and took interest in the front desk chair, which was made of soft, worn brown leather. The seat spun. I was turning myself around in circles and staring at the ceiling when a man approached the desk and cleared his throat. “Sorry,” I said, and set my foot down on the floor, stopping abruptly. “Can I help you?”
He was an attractive middle-aged gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair and dark eyes. He looked me up and down. “Yes. Room five.”
I stared at him blankly. “I’m afraid I don’t understand—”
“I may be early.” He sighed and leaned his elbows onto the granite. “I have a reservation.”
“Oh, all right. Checking in, then?”
Vaughan had neglected to cover that aspect in the two-minute front-desk training. I turned to the computer and clicked the mouse to pull up the main screen. I had no clue what I was doing, but I could fake it with the best. “Let’s see here. There’s a password, so if you could just give me a sec— Ack! Gopher balls.” I took a deep breath and gave the man an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid the password has recently been changed and the innkeeper is out. She should be back shortly. Would you care to have a seat?” I flung open the desk drawer. “I have a copy of the April issue of Private Celebrity if you’d like some reading.”
“No, thank you.” He leaned closer and dropped his voice. “I don’t have a room reservation, you understand? I’m meeting someone here. A friend.”
That didn’t sound normal. In fact, it sounded like a code. Like maybe this guy was looking to go a-whoring. I squared my jaw. Well, if so, he had underestimated me.
I folded my hands in front of me and tried to look clueless. “Got it. What’s your friend’s name? I’ll see if they’re here already.” I reached for the phone.
“Well, hang on.” I didn’t like the way he was raking me over with his gaze. “What about you? You look friendly.”
“Thanks.” I smiled, but rolled my eyes in that “don’t you believe it” way. “I grew up in Boston, and we’re not super friendly up there, you know? Living closer to New York I can get away with it, but out here in the country it’s like you have to be friendly and make small talk and shit. I mean, stuff.”
“Right.” He stroked his cheek. “I guess what I’m asking is, are you available tonight?”
“Oh? What did you have in mind?”
“Maybe have dinner.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Maybe not.”
“Ah.” I turned the chair to face him in an appropriately dramatic fashion. “I see.”
I’d had an idea. One of my worst ones, actually. This guy was looking for some company and that gave me two options: I could tell him to piss off, or I could play along and see what he had in mind. Maybe I could prove to myself whether or not Vaughan was running a whorehouse. If she wasn’t, I’d be able to reassure my grandmother.
He raised his eyebrows. “So. Could you show me to room five?”
God help me, was I actually going to do this? Except that if I told him that he should maybe go “spend some time” with himself, I might be ruining my opportunity to collect more evidence. This guy could just be creepy or awkward. Until there was an offer of money for sex, I didn’t have proof. So when I grabbed the key to room five and stood with a big smile, I swear my intentions were virtuous. “Right this way.”
“Great.”
I led him to the center of the foyer, where the winding staircase was waiting, and paused with one foot on the first step. “Do you need to grab your bags?”
“Bags?” He appeared taken aback by the question. “Uh, no, that’s all right.”
I smiled and shrugged. “Maybe later, then.”
My heart hammered with every footstep as we climbed to the second story, which felt miles away. What would he expect when we arrived? I planned to unlock the door and hide the key between my fingers in case I needed to fight him off. Once we talked money, I was out of there. That was all the proof I needed.
My pulse felt electric as the room came into view. I’m no actress, and this guy wasn’t even hot—how did prostitutes do it? Pretend he’s Ryan Gosling. I lowered my voice to my sexiest register and said, “Here it is. Room five.”
He paused beside me and waited. “You have the key,” he said.
“Oh. Right.”
I unlocked the door and moved aside so he could pass through. He took a couple steps before glancing back over his shoulder. “Would you like to come in?”
If my mother only knew what I was up to. Look, Mom, Nana was pretty upset about the whorehouse thing. I had an obligation to investigate. That’s what family is all about. Even Mom would know that was kind of bullshit. I clutched the metal room key tightly in my fist. “Sure, I’ll come in.” I sounded much more confident than I felt.
Room five had a queen canopy bed, a gas fireplace, and a view of the sound. It was quite lovely, if old-fashioned. “So. There’s a private bathroom, of course. And breakfast in the morning. I think there’s cable. Let’s check.” I reached for the remote control on the nightstand.
He approached as I fumbled with the buttons, then slowly pried the remote from my fingers. “I don’t want to watch television.”
“Oh. Okay.” My pulse fluttered in my throat. He was so close. Picture Ryan Gosling! My gaze darted to the door, which was almost shut, but not quite. “You want to talk?”
He chuckled and gently took the room key from my hand. “Not really. I thought you could take the lead.”
Oh, for the love of Pete. I needed him to come out and tell me that he was looking to pay me for sex so that I could get out of there. “Have you been here before?”
He smiled a little. “No. I’ve just heard some things.”
“What kinds of things?”
His smile widened. “A gentleman never tells.”
Gross. Was he trying to flirt? I played ignorant. “Probably about the muffins. Vaughan’s a great cook.”
His gaze wavered for a flash; then he recovered. “So. What do you do here?”
“I mow the lawn.”
“Is that what they call it these days?”
“I think it’s called landscaping.”
He inched closer and we stood in a face-off, neither of us moving. I kept focused on his light blue eyes and wondered how long we were going to be locked in this game of chicken. Dammit. I huffed out a breath. “Look, I happen to be extremely expensive—”
He spun me around and I fell face-first on the bed. “What the—?”
“Police,” he said, and pulled back my wrists. “You’re under arrest for solicitation.”
“What?” I turned my head to look over my shoulder just as he slapped some handcuffs on my wrists. “No, this is a mistake! You were trying to pay me for sex!”
“I never said anything about that.”
&n
bsp; Oh my gosh, I was under arrest. “You can’t do this. I’m a teacher. This will ruin my life!”
“Stand up,” he hissed, and tried helping me to my feet. “Stop squirming!”
But I wouldn’t stop and I wouldn’t stand, either. I wasn’t walking out of this inn in handcuffs. “No! Take these cuffs off! This is a mistake!”
“There’s been no mistake, miss. Now come on.”
He reached out a hand to grab my shoulder. In a fit of desperation, I bit his finger. Then I began to scream.
BRETT
MINDY HAD invited me to the cocktail party at the inn, but I wasn’t going to attend. I kept telling myself not to get involved, that I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and that I definitely wasn’t looking for anything … professional. And I felt pretty pleased with my self-restraint until around eight o’clock that evening, when I was walking up the brick path to the front door of the inn. I wanted to see Mindy again. So sue me.
We were both new to town, and I liked the idea of exploring the terrain with someone else. Eating alone was boring. Plus she was cute as hell and yeah, she seemed down to get physical. Because she might be a prostitute, I reminded myself, but I didn’t really believe it. Or I didn’t want to. She taught first grade. The two things didn’t go together … right? The question complicated our friendship, and I didn’t know how to deal with that. A glass of wine seemed like a good start.
But as I approached, the inn was quiet. I didn’t see a cocktail party. No crowds, no music. No people at all. I paused on the front step and debated whether to turn around. Probably missed it. I stole a glance at the guest cottage, but the lights were off. No big deal, I thought, but I felt a twinge of disappointment.
I heard the scream as I turned to leave. It set the hair standing on the back of my neck, and before I knew it I had flung wide the door to the inn. I must have imagined myself to be some kind of bearded superhero, the kind that saved women in distress. It was a stupid, fleeting thought, and it fell away when I heard the scream again. “Help me!” Followed by a man shouting, “Stop screaming!”
Good God, someone was in danger.
I dashed to the staircase just as a figure entered from the hall. It was Vaughan Prescott, and she looked remarkably calm despite the noise. She nodded at me. “Hello.”
I’d seen her around. It was a small town. But I tore up the stairs without replying, taking them two at a time until I reached the second floor. A door to one of the rooms was open, and inside I saw shadows moving across the wall. “Get up!”
“Don’t touch me!” My stomach dropped. That was Mindy’s voice.
Without a thought I pushed through the door and stormed inside. Mindy was on the ground with her hands tied behind her back as some creep tried to wrap his arms around her. My vision blurred with rage. “Hands off, asshole!” I pushed him aside with a quick shove and positioned myself between them. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
He was middle-aged, with an athletic build. But I had a good five inches and at least thirty pounds of muscle on him. He staggered backward and reached into his back pocket. “Police,” he said, removing a badge. “I’m arresting her.”
“For what?”
“Solicitation.”
I glanced down at Mindy, whose eyes were pleading with mine. “It’s all a mistake,” she said. “He was the one hitting on me, and I made some stupid comment—”
I held up one hand. “Don’t talk, Mindy. Don’t say anything, okay?”
You don’t say anything to the police, right? Everyone knows that. But she had this look in her eyes like she was about to tear someone’s head off, and her mouth wouldn’t stop working. “I’m not a prostitute, Brett. I’m not. He invited me up to the room—”
“And you followed,” the officer said.
Mindy released something that sounded like a growl from the back of her throat. “You asked me to lead you to your room! You told me you were looking for some company! You said you didn’t want to watch television!”
I set my hands on my waist and looked down at the undercover officer. “What’s your name, officer?”
“Spinelli.” He set his jaw, trying to look tough. It didn’t work.
“Well, Officer Spinelli,” I said, “this sounds like entrapment.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vaughan standing in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her. “Entrapment is exactly what it is,” she purred. “I heard the entire exchange. We have surveillance at the front desk, you know.” She tossed a sharp look at Spinelli. “You were looking for a date. You asked if she was available. When she told you to have a seat, you kept on pressing. You wanted dinner, maybe something more. You set her up.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head at him like a disappointed mother. “Mindy doesn’t even work here. She’s the owner’s granddaughter. She was covering the front desk for me this evening as a favor.”
Realization settled over Spinelli’s face, then disappeared. He glared back at her. “I know what you do here, Vaughan.”
“Yes,” she said tightly. “I run a successful bed-and-breakfast. And I am very friendly with the police chief, so please take these handcuffs off of her.”
He hesitated for only a moment before doing just that. Mindy winced, then brought her hands forward to rub at her red wrists. “So unnecessary,” she grumbled.
Spinelli had started to sulk. “She told me she was expensive,” he said.
The guy sounded like a child. He didn’t know when to quit. I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, she is expensive,” I snapped. Mindy’s jaw dropped. “I’ve had dinner with her. She orders the priciest thing on the menu. She wears designer clothes. She likes dessert.” I looked over at her just in time to see a smile creep on her face. “Isn’t that right, Mindy?”
“Yes. Exactly right.”
I reached out a hand to help her to her feet. Man, her wrists were already bruising. She must have fought like hell. “And by the way,” Mindy added with a lift of her chin, “I would never have sex with you. Not for any amount of money.”
“All right.” I chuckled quietly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “That’s enough.” I led her out of the room.
“It’s true,” she said as we entered the hallway. “He was hitting on me and it was all kinds of gross.”
Damn, this woman was feisty. I loved it. “It’s over now. Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay. You’re right.” But she stopped short at the stairs and covered her face with her hands. “My God. That was awful.” Her pretty lips parted. “If you hadn’t been there …”
I didn’t want to think about that. The image of her lying on the ground, handcuffed and screaming, set my pulse racing. True, this wasn’t a kidnapping, but the image appealed to the heroic narrative I was weaving for myself. My protective instincts kicked in right then, and without thinking, I pulled Mindy closer against my side. “I’m glad I came tonight.”
“Me too.” She was so sweet, and she sighed softly against my chest.
Without thinking, I set my fingers under her chin and lifted her face. Then, gently, I kissed her. She sighed, melting against me, gripping my shirt and pressing her breasts against my chest. The adrenaline was pulsing through me so hard my head was light, and she was so damn sexy. Then she stiffened. “Brett.”
Mistake. The contact was too much, too soon. I’d lost myself in the excitement. “That’s all right. Sorry,” I managed through my tightening throat. I released my hold on her. “Sorry. That back there—I’m glad you’re okay.”
“No, it’s fine. But I need to talk to you,” she said. Her eyes enlarged. Just as quickly, they narrowed.
I turned to see Vaughan enter the hall, followed by Officer Spinelli. “You have a nice night, Officer,” she said. Her voice was cool as always.
“Night,” he replied. He avoided our gaze as he passed us and hurried down the staircase.
A slow and easy smile spread across Vaughan’s face. She folded her arms in front of her. “W
ell, that was some excitement, wasn’t it?”
Mindy mirrored Vaughn’s position, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes fiery. “How was your planning and zoning meeting, Vaughn? How fortunate that you were back in time to straighten everything out.”
“Can you imagine if I hadn’t been here?” Vaughan shook her head. “But it turns out I had my days confused. The meeting is next week. I went for a walk instead.” She smiled. “Don’t fret. I’ll have someone else watch the desk.”
I didn’t like the anger I saw brewing in Mindy’s eyes, so I attempted to lighten the mood. “What’s happening at planning and zoning? Anything interesting?”
Vaughan opened her mouth to reply, but Mindy cut her off. “Don’t believe her,” she said. “It’s an excuse.”
The innkeeper looked taken aback. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“That,” she said, pointing down the staircase where Officer Spinelli had passed. “An undercover police officer who believes that you are running a whorehouse in my grandmother’s inn. That’s what’s wrong.”
“Oh.” Vaughan rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Sweetie, I couldn’t agree more. These rumors are vicious. But I’m going to write a letter to the chief of police tomorrow. I’ll even hand-deliver it. If I know him, he’ll put a stop to this gossip at once.”
“Gossip?” Mindy choked. “Is that what it is, really?” She took a step closer to Vaughan, lowering her voice. “Did you really have a meeting? Or did you know that Officer Spinelli was coming to investigate? Maybe the chief tipped you off?”
“Oh, not you, too!” Vaughan sighed and released her arms. “Honestly, this town does not know what to do with successful women.”
I didn’t understand what was going on. My gaze shifted from Mindy to Vaughan. I cleared my throat and said, “Are we good here, Vaughan? We’re free to go?”
Losing Mr. Right Page 8