An hour later, Lori stood in the Aberdeen Suite fluffing the pillows on the queen-sized sleigh bed. Voices from below drifted up through the open window. The octogenarian woman who operated the Java Jolt was being interviewed by Greer’s team. Lori sat down on the padded window seat to listen.
“When Miles was a boy, we all called him ‘Little Mayor,’” the woman was saying. “He was always so responsible and compassionate. Oh, how he did love to organize things, though. And people, too.” Lori could hear the smile in the older woman’s voice as she recounted a story of Miles circulating a petition to allow skateboards on the Chances Inlet Pier. “He got all the boys together to come up with and agree to the rules of conduct they had to maintain while on the pier. He even pitched it to the City Council that it would make our town more family friendly if we allowed the skateboarders.” The woman laughed. “Of course, Miles broke his wrist the first week after the resolution passed and he had to sit and watch his friends reap the benefits all that summer.”
It all sounded so wholesome. Lori wondered how someone would describe her life. They certainly wouldn’t use words like “responsible” and “considerate” to refer to the last several years, that’s for sure. She possessed as much pride and ambition as Miles clearly did, only hers had fueled a need to feel accepted into a world she had no business belonging to. Guilt gnawed at her as she was reminded of the crimes she had ignored simply to realize her dream of operating her own restaurant.
Lori squeezed the pillow between her hands. Time was running out for her here in Chances Inlet. She had no business tarnishing the image of the B and B and the good people in it. As soon as Patricia was mobile, Lori needed to move on.
“I didn’t realize mutilating guest pillows was part of your duties.”
Lori’s head snapped around toward the suite’s entryway to see Miles, leaning up against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing well defined, tanned forearms. The blue of his dress shirt deepened the color of his azure eyes. The heat Lori saw in them made her mouth go dry. Before she knew what he had in mind, he was prowling across the room toward her and extracting the pillow from her hands.
“I’m just gonna rescue this little guy before you decompress all of his stuffing, okay?” One corner of his mouth kicked up into that half smile of his. The one he only gave to Lori. Everyone else—Greer Rossi included—got the full-wattage version. Just not her.
Finding her breath and her moxi, Lori stood up and snatched the pillow back. She marched across the room, deliberately putting the expanse of bed between them, and placed the pillow against the headboard before smoothing out the comforter.
“I’ve put your friend in here. I hope that’s okay with you.”
He looked a little baffled as he glanced around the room. “I’m sure Greer will love it.”
“And will you be doing the turn-down service yourself?” Each night, Lori turned down the guests’ beds, leaving a tray of handcrafted chocolates and mints on the pillow.
Miles’ hands went to his hips and he shot Lori a hard look. “Is there a reason you can’t do it?”
Lori mentally slapped herself for being childish. She had no right to be jealous of any relationship Miles had. There was nothing between him and Lori but a very potent attraction—one that neither one of them had any business acting on. Miles was a good man who didn’t need to be saddled with who Lori had become.
“I just thought . . .” she said sheepishly.
“You just thought wrong.” Miles’ tone was as frustrated as Lori felt. “Greer and I are friends. Without benefits.” His tone softened. “I think I’ve made it clear that I’d rather peel back the layers on you.”
His statement shocked her and Lori sucked in a breath. “Stay the course, Miles,” she whispered. “She’s good for you.” Her words were meant to encourage him as much as herself.
“And you’re not.” It wasn’t a question because they both knew the statement was true.
“No.”
His sigh was heavy as he pulled his fingers through his hair. “It’s not working. I need specifics.”
“I can’t give you those. It’s only for another month. Then I’ll be out of your life. No longer distracting you.”
“And what am I supposed to do until then?”
Lori glanced at the mattress where Greer would be spending the night. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Miles swore quietly as Lori walked around the bed. Slipping past him, she’d almost made it to the door before his hand shot out, lightning fast, and shackled her wrist. With one gentle tug her body was flush against his hard one. Lori inhaled a ragged breath. He smelled of soap and mint. She made the mistake of tilting her head back to look at his face and the desire she saw reflected in his eyes made her knees weak.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t give up that easily,” he murmured as he released her wrist and cupped her face.
His lips were on hers before she could react. By that time, it was too late. His tongue had insinuated itself inside her mouth and Lori gave in without protest. She fisted her hands in his shirt, opening her mouth wider to him. Lori was determined to enjoy the moment that should never have happened.
The kiss he gave her was raw and hot. Miles explored her mouth as though he was charting it for future excursions. Her body grew restless under the assault as heat shot to her belly. His hands slid from her face to trace her spine before landing on her ass. She felt the groan in the back of his throat as he pressed her hips against his arousal. The room began to spin slightly before Lori reined in her scattered wits.
Miles was kissing her. In the Aberdeen Suite with its massive queen bed and the door wide open. What were they doing? She grudgingly pulled out of their kiss and willed her hands to unclench from his shirt. Miles made no move to unhand her. Both were still breathing as if they’d just run a stage in one of his triathlons. Refusing to meet his eyes, Lori smoothed out the wrinkles across his chest.
“Don’t pursue this, Miles. Please,” she begged softly before stepping out of his embrace.
Apparently he was the gentleman that the older woman and the others were professing before the cameras because Miles reluctantly let her go, sliding his fingers along her bare arm as he did so.
Without looking up, Lori turned on her heel and started for the door again.
“Wait,” he called after her. “I had a call from Mr. Swanston asking about the bracelet.”
Lori halted at the threshold of the room and looked over her shoulder at him. “Nothing ever turned up in town?”
“No.”
She shook her head. “It hasn’t turned up here, either.” Making matters worse, Lori still hadn’t found her grandmother’s ring. She could relate to Mrs. Swanston’s distress because her stomach knotted up every time she thought of the missing gold band. It was painful to lose a part of her past. The past that she would be proud to have an old woman discussing on national television.
Miles sighed. “I’ll tell him we’ll keep looking.”
Lori nodded before she hurried down the hall.
* * *
There was a reason Miles didn’t do anything impulsive: spontaneity led to dissonance. And regret. The problem was he didn’t regret kissing Lori. What he regretted was not bolting the door and sinking into her right there in the Aberdeen Suite. She would have relented. One more kiss and her body and her mouth would have stopped listening to her brain.
The more he didn’t know about her, the more she turned him on, which was just plain idiotic. He’d meant what he’d said about peeling back her layers and discovering her secret. Since Miles already knew the secret of what was hidden beneath her bulky clothes, he was obsessed with knowing the rest. And that obsession continued to be a huge distraction.
“Miles, are you with me?” Coy was drumming his fingers on t
he old desk in his father’s office.
“Yeah,” Miles lied. He had no idea what subject the kid had launched into. He looked across the room at Greer, but her face was averted, studying her laptop. No help there. The three were spread out in Miles’ campaign headquarters, plotting out his campaign appearances for the next week.
“The polling data doesn’t lie,” Coy continued. “Faye’s campaign is picking up steam.”
“That always happens when a new candidate enters a race. It’s called the honeymoon period.” Greer looked over her laptop at both men. “I really don’t think it’s any reason to panic. We just need to stay the course.”
Stay the course. Lori had used that very same phrase five hours ago. Miles needed to heed both women’s advice. Not only was Lori dangerous to his libido, but depending upon what—or who—she was hiding from, she was potentially a danger to his campaign, too. He was wise to keep that in mind. A part of him was grateful to her for putting up some resistance. At least the parts of him above his belt.
“What do we know about Faye’s schedule?” Miles asked.
“It’s almost a carbon copy of yours. She’ll be at every picnic, parade, and fish fry within a hundred-mile radius during the upcoming Fourth of July weekend.” Coy scowled at his tablet. “She somehow even wrangled an invitation to the party at the Dresden House your friend Will is throwing.”
“Not Will. It’s his wife Julianne’s party. She owns a design company and manufactures much of the line of baby clothes locally. Julianne is all about women-owned businesses. She would have invited her long before Faye threw her hat in the ring.” Miles leaned back in his late father’s big leather chair, hoping to channel some sage advice about the campaign. Among other things.
“I think we can work it to our advantage to have Faye there.” Both men shot a questioning look at Greer. “I mean it. Your friend Will and his wife are definitely in your camp, aren’t they, Miles?”
“Jesus, I hope so.” Miles let his head slump back against the cool leather.
“Perfect. Your friends will look magnanimous for inviting her. We can grab some unobtrusive video of you and Faye together. Coupled with what I shot today, we’ll be able to paint a portrait of you as a commanding candidate who is gracious to his challenger. A guy who respects older Americans no matter what.”
“I’m coming off as Mr. Squeaky Clean in these ads.” Miles wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the persona, especially since it begged for more scrutiny into his family.
“You are Squeaky Clean, Miles.” Greer smiled at him. “Wear it like a badge of honor.”
Squeaky Clean. The moniker didn’t scream spontaneity, that’s for sure. Instead, it felt a little . . . boring.
“I still think we need to find out if there’s any dirt on Faye Rich,” Coy said.
Miles rubbed his face with his hand. “That’s a slippery slope, Coy. I really don’t want to run a negative campaign.”
“You can’t run a negative campaign,” Greer pointed out. Both men stared at her in silence. Greer let out a frustrated sigh. “We just discussed why not. Miles is squeaky clean. Therefore, a negative campaign might make him look like he’s picking on a grandmother who has a recognition quotient that’s off the charts. There’s no way to go down that road and not reach the other side without smelling like crap.”
An image of Lori flashed before Miles’ eyes. If voters had access to his thoughts, they’d see he wasn’t so squeaky clean. Far from it.
Kissing her had been a colossal mistake because it only stoked the fire more. He could still taste her. But any future encounters would be like playing Russian roulette with his freaking squeaky clean image. Stay the course. Miles would be wise to make that phrase his mantra while he focused on executing the plan he’d laid out all those years ago.
“She’s right,” he said, not bothering to elaborate that he was talking about multiple women. “No negativity.”
Coy looked as if he might argue the point. Miles shook his head and Coy stood up with a huff. “I’ve got a happy hour meeting with some of the volunteers at Pier Pressure. If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you both in the morning.”
No sooner had Coy left than Midas bounded into the room heralding the arrival of Gavin. Miles ran his fingers over the dog’s silky fur, happy for Midas’ distraction. Too bad he couldn’t say the same for his owner’s wise-ass demeanor.
“Hey, you kids. Working hard?” Gavin tossed a ball across the room and Midas scampered after it, nearly toppling the chair Coy had just vacated.
“We’re just finishing up for the day.” Greer broke out into one of those rapturous smiles that all women got when they were assaulted with Gavin’s annoying charm.
“Excellent. I’m taking Ginger to dinner at the Thai place. We’d love for you to join us.”
Miles narrowed his eyes at his brother, who was clearly up to something. The women in the McAlister family likely wanted answers about his relationship with Greer and they’d sent Gavin as their fisherman.
“Thai sounds great.” She shot a questioning smile at Miles. Clearly outnumbered, he shrugged and nodded at the same time. Greer checked her watch. “Do I have time to run back to the inn and freshen up? I also need to return a phone call or two. I can meet you back here in thirty minutes.”
“It’s summertime. We don’t roll up the sidewalks until at least ten o’clock,” Gavin teased. “Take all the time you need.”
She slid her laptop into its leather case before hefting the bag onto her shoulder. “I won’t be long.” Greer leaned down to kiss Miles on the cheek before exiting the office.
Gavin watched her walk out, a shit-eating grin on his face. He let out an appreciative whistle when the lobby door closed behind her.
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Gavin,” Miles said with an exasperated sigh.
“Seriously? You’re not doing the wild thing with a hot number like that?” Gavin pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Ryan and Will. I think it’s past time for an intervention. You’re starting to scare me.”
“You’re the one who needs the intervention. Aren’t you practically engaged? You shouldn’t be looking at other women.”
“I’m very happily practically engaged. But, bro, Greer Rossi is hot. With political polish and connections. You two are perfect for each other. What’s wrong with you?”
Greer Rossi was perfect for him. Or more correctly, perfect for “Squeaky Clean Miles McAlister.” The trouble was, he was beginning to realize that he might have an evil twin: Wild and Dirty Miles McAlister. And that guy? He scared the hell out of Miles.
“Nothing’s wrong with me, asshole. Believe it or not, I can have a working relationship with a woman without thinking of her as a sex object.”
Gavin snorted. “Hey, so can I.”
“Bernice doesn’t count.”
“Bernice doesn’t kiss me on the cheek or look at me like she wants to go down on me right here in the office.”
They both were stunned into silence as they processed Gavin’s statement. Miles stood up from his chair and shivered with revulsion. “Ick.”
Gavin wiped his mouth with his hand. “Yeah, sorry. That’s a mental picture I’m going to have to burn out of my brain.”
The dog head-butted Miles’ thigh, dropping the slobbery ball at his feet. Miles reached down and tossed the ball. “I don’t have time for women right now. In case you haven’t noticed”—he waved a cardboard yard sign at his brother—“I’m in the middle of a campaign.”
Gavin held up his hands in front of his chest. “Jesus, Miles, you’ve been in the middle of a campaign for something since you were a kid. That shouldn’t preclude you from having a healthy relationship with a woman. It may even make the process a little more enjoyable. At the very least, you wouldn’t be so damn testy all the time.”
“Oh, I get it.” Miles tugged at the
ball in the dog’s mouth. “You and Will are happy with a ball and chain on so everyone else you know needs to be in a committed relationship, too. Let me know how that goes over with our brother Ryan and his harem of groupies in every ballpark. When he falls, I’ll fall.”
Gavin shook his head. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
Miles blew out a breath. “Look, Gavin, I’m happy for you. I really am. Ginger is special. A girl who loves you like that only comes along once in a lifetime, bro. My advice to you is to put a ring on her finger before she wakes up and smells the coffee.”
His brother flipped him off. “Ginger made some appetizers that are surprisingly edible. When Greer gets back, come on up for a drink before we head out to the restaurant. Let’s go, Midas. It’s dinnertime.” The dog trotted toward the stairs and Gavin followed, stopping at the base of the steps. “You’re wrong about the once-in-a-lifetime thing, though, Miles,” he said over his shoulder. “You just have to stop closing yourself off and let it happen.” With that, he was gone.
Miles sank back into their father’s chair. Gavin didn’t know what he was talking about. No way was love going to ‘happen’ for Miles a second time. He wasn’t about to open himself up to that kind of pain again, no matter how much his brother and Will Connelly sung love’s praises. Lust, on the other hand, was a different story. Too bad the woman he was presently lusting over was potentially a ticking time bomb.
NINE
Patricia winced as the physical therapist manipulated her hip. It had been over a month since the accident, and while she was progressing, she was frustrated with the slow pace of her recovery.
“So what’s the verdict, Jane?” Patricia was sweating from both the exertion and the agony of her daily workout.
“The verdict is that all women in their fifties should vigilantly do Pilates like you. That way if they ever break something, their rehab will be easy.” Jane gave her one of those smiles that was equal parts encouraging and equal parts sadistic. “Just one more set and we can be done for the day.”
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