by LENA DIAZ,
“Okay, why not?” she said. “But don’t expect me to cook for you today. That starts tomorrow, when my help arrives.”
“I’m sure I’ll figure something out so I don’t starve.”
His smile was infectious, and she couldn’t help smiling, too. “Just one night, then?”
He glanced toward the front doors, then in the direction of the airboat dock about fifty yards away, which was barely visible from here. Or maybe he was looking at the church with its old-fashioned steeple and bell that the ushers rang by pulling on a rope every Sunday morning at precisely nine o’clock.
“Just tonight,” he said.
His rich baritone sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine. He really was an exquisite specimen of male. And she really, really wanted to paint him. Maybe she could ask him again later to model for her and he might change his mind. And if she could convince him to stay longer than one night, she’d have more chances to try to sway him into modeling for her. Plus, starting tomorrow, the place would be full of other people. Any concerns about being alone with a man she didn’t know wouldn’t matter at that point. When it came down to it, more important than the painting was the money. A fully rented inn was far better than a partially rented one.
“If you want to stay just one night, that’s okay,” she said. “But there are only eight rooms and seven are booked solid for the season. I expect the last one will get snatched up pretty fast once the first group of guests begins to spread the word about their stay here. If you don’t take it now, it might not be available later in the week.”
“You’re quite the saleswoman. Okay, I’ll book a week. Might as well. Never been in the Everglades before and this looks like a great spot.”
Yes! That put her at 100 percent occupancy. She couldn’t ask for a better start to the business she’d been saving her whole life to start. And her other job would be over soon, God willing, so that income wasn’t something she could rely on indefinitely. Every penny counted now.
“Aren’t you even going to ask the price?” She crunched down the gravel path toward the front doors with him keeping pace beside her.
“That was going to be my next question.”
She gave him the particulars and he handed her a credit card before holding one of the doors open for her.
“Sounds more than reasonable,” he said.
“Great. And thanks,” she said as she stepped through the door he was holding. She led him to the check-in desk beside the staircase. She took an impression of his credit card on an old-fashioned carbon paper machine and set it on the counter for him to sign.
“Haven’t seen one of those since I was a little kid,” he said as he took the pen from her and scrawled his signature across the bottom.
“Yeah, well. You do what you have to do without reliable internet and phone service. Don’t worry, though. There are hundreds of movies in the bookshelves in the great room for you to choose from if you want to watch something while you’re here. I’ve got the classics along with tons of newer titles in all genres. And each guest room has its own TV and DVD player.”
“Sounds good.” He pocketed his credit card and scanned the lobby as if he was looking for someone. Then he suddenly grew very still, his gaze settling on something behind her.
Fearing that a wild animal had somehow managed to sneak inside, Silver whirled around. No furry attacker was waiting to jump at her. But what Colton was staring at was just as dangerous...for Eddie.
The network of cubbies on the homemade bookshelf that spanned the wall behind the desk held the blue vase prominently in the middle where Eddie must have placed it. And that was where Colton’s gaze was currently riveted. A shiver shot up Silver’s spine at the intensity of that look. And this time it wasn’t a good shiver.
Without asking her permission, he rounded the desk and hefted the vase in his right hand. “This is...beautiful. Where did you get it?”
Beautiful? She’d bet her last sketch pad that he’d been about to say something else and stopped himself. Did he recognize that piece? Suspect that it was stolen?
After taking the priceless vase from him, she set it back in the cubby. “I bought it from a friend. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t pick up any pieces of art that you see around here. Some of them have been in my family for generations.”
“But not that one.” He eyed it as if he was itching to grab it again.
“You seem quite interested in that.” She waved toward the cubby. “Do you have one like it back home, wherever home is?”
“Atlanta, Georgia. And no, I don’t. But I’d like to. This...friend you bought it from. Do you think I could meet him? Maybe see if he has another one for sale?”
“What makes you think my friend isn’t a woman?”
He shrugged. “Him. Her. Doesn’t matter. My sister recently bought a new house and I’ve been meaning to pick her up a housewarming gift. I know she’d love something like that.” He pointed to the vase. “She adores bright colors. Like I said earlier, she’s an artist, too.”
Sure she was. Silver doubted the man even had a sister, or that he lived in Atlanta. His story sounded too pat, as if he’d quickly made it up to cover his unusual interest in the vase and his sudden appearance in Mystic Glades—just a few minutes after Eddie had approached her. Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not.
“How did you happen to find the entrance to our little town?” she asked as she recorded his name in the registration book. “It’s unusual for anyone but residents to know that exit.”
He shrugged. “Honestly, it was an accident. I ran over some debris on the highway and pulled to the shoulder to check my tires. That’s when I saw the exit. Figured I might as well take it and see where it led. After all, I’m on vacation. Have all the time in the world.”
His story was plausible, she supposed. But the timing of his arrival, along with his interest in the vase, still bothered her. Did he have a hidden agenda for being here? He seemed like a man with a purpose, not the kind who’d randomly pull off a highway and take a gravel road that seemed to lead nowhere. She sorely regretted having rented him a room for the night, let alone the whole week.
“About that vase—”
“Sorry. Can’t help you.” She snapped the registration book closed and grabbed a key from the drawer underneath the counter. “The person I bought it from isn’t around right now. Here’s your key, Mr. Graham.” She plopped it in his hand. “Your room is upstairs, room number eight, last one on the right.”
Unfortunately, his room was right beneath her room in the converted attic, with the door to the attic stairs right next to his door. That was far too close for comfort. But all the rooms were decorated with specific themes, and the guests chose the themes they wanted when they made their reservations. She couldn’t reassign them.
Maybe she should drop into Bubba’s Take or Trade and buy a lock for her bedroom door. If Colton ended up snooping while he was here, he might discover the other items that Eddie had brought her, including several in the attic. Until she could be certain why he was so curious, and whether he was a threat, she’d have to be very careful.
“As I mentioned earlier, there aren’t any formal meals planned for today,” she continued. “But you’re welcome to make full use of the kitchen.” She waved toward the swinging door to the left of the entry. “I’m sure that you’ll find everything there you could possibly need. You certainly won’t starve. And there are toiletries in the bathroom attached to your room—shampoo, soap, even a toothbrush and toothpaste in case you didn’t think to bring them. Do you have any luggage you’d like me to get for you?”
His eyebrows rose. “I’ll get my bag myself in a few minutes. Thanks. I’ll just go up and check out the room first.” He headed toward the stairs to the right of the desk.
Silver hesitated as he disappeared down the upstairs hallway. She worried about the attic and whether he’d snoop. But she had a more important errand to do right now than babysit her first guest.
&nb
sp; She hurried to the front door, determined to find Eddie.
And warn him.
Chapter Three
Colton leaned back against the wall upstairs, just past the open banister, waiting. Sure enough, the inn’s front door quietly opened below, then clicked closed, just as he’d expected. He jogged to the stairs and caught a glimpse of Silver Westbrook through one of the front windows as he headed down to the first floor. Her shoulder-length bob of reddish-brown hair swished back and forth, a testament to how fast she was going as she turned right.
She looked like a little warrior, ready to do battle as she marched up the street—except that he couldn’t quite picture her holding a weapon while wearing a tie-dyed purple-and-lime-green poncho with bright blue fringe brushing against her tight jeans. And the flash of her orange tennis shoes would be like a beacon to the enemy on a battlefield, just as it was a beacon to him.
The woman certainly wasn’t subtle about her love of color. The fact that the outside of the B and B was white was the real surprise, because the inside was just as colorful as Silver’s outfit—a mix of purple, blue and yellow hues on every wall, and even on the furniture. But instead of being garish as he’d expect of an inn decorated with that palette, somehow everything combined to work together to make the place feel warm, inviting. She really did remind him of his artistic sister. Too bad the two would never meet.
Because Silver Westbrook would probably end up in prison when this was all over.
Once she was a few buildings up the street, he headed out the door after her. But instead of skirting around the backs of buildings to follow his prey, he forced himself to walk up the street in plain sight. He didn’t want anyone looking out a window to think he was anything but an interested tourist exploring the town. And all the while he fervently hoped that Silver wouldn’t turn around and realize he was following her.
The concern in her eyes, and the wariness when he’d foolishly grabbed that vase, had put him on alert that she knew far more about its origins than she was letting on. And he’d figured she would want to go warn whoever had sold it to her as soon as he was out of the way. That was why he’d gone upstairs. And sure enough, she’d bolted like a rabbit.
He regretted that he’d shown his interest in the piece. He’d just been so stunned to see it that he hadn’t managed to hide his surprise. That blue vase was at the top of his stolen goods sheet and worth several thousand dollars. The owners were anxious to get it back. And Colton was anxious to catch whoever had stolen it.
The fact that the vase had been taken two nights ago in Naples and ended up here today, along with Eddie, couldn’t be a coincidence. He really, really wanted to get that little hoodlum in an interrogation room and get him to roll over on his thug friends. But now there was another wrinkle in the investigation.
Whether Silver Westbrook was part of the burglary ring.
He would hate to think that a woman as intriguing and beautiful, and smart enough to run her own business, would get involved in illegal activities. But how else could he explain how defensive she’d gotten when he’d asked about Eddie and, later, the vase, unless she knew she’d accepted stolen property?
From the moment he’d met her and had been the recipient of such a brazen evaluation of his...assets...and then propositioned to pose nude so she could draw him, she’d fascinated him. Her tendency to space out and get lost in her own little artist’s world was as adorable as it was frustrating. He’d love to get to know her better, find out what other unique quirks she was hiding, and how her fascinating artist’s mind worked—which wasn’t going to happen if he ended up arresting her.
And that was what made this whole trip so frustrating. Because he was pretty sure that if things turned out the way it looked as though they would, he’d end this day by hauling both Eddie and Silver to jail.
Near the end of the street, almost all the way to the archway that marked the beginning of Mystic Glades, she turned right, jogged up the steps to the wooden boardwalk and went inside one of the businesses. The same business where Eddie had been earlier, Callahan’s Watering Hole. Coincidence? Not a chance. Silver was definitely going there to find the kid, probably to warn him that a stranger seemed far too interested in his whereabouts and the stolen goods he’d brought with him.
Colton increased his stride and hurried to the same building, which appeared to be a bar, based on the name and the tangy smell of whiskey that seemed to permeate the wooden siding. He couldn’t worry about stealth now. He had to hurry to catch both of his suspects before they managed to disappear completely.
His boots rang hollowly across the wooden boardwalk. He pushed the swinging doors open, bracing himself for something like a line of saloon dancing girls and drunken patrons lined up at the bar, even though it was still morning. After what his boss had told him about Mystic Glades, and what little he’d seen for himself, nothing could surprise him.
He stopped just past the opening. Okay, wrong. He was surprised, surprised that everything seemed so normal.
The mouthwatering, sweet smell of sugar-cured bacon hit him as his eyes adjusted to the dark interior and more details came into focus. There weren’t any saloon girls or patrons at the bar guzzling whiskey. But the place was packed, and from the looks of the cheap, souvenir-shop types of Florida T-shirts on most of the people sitting at little round tables throughout the room, they were mostly tourists. This must be why the street out front was so deserted. Everyone was in here, eating breakfast.
There was no sign of Silver, though.
“Are you part of the airboat tour group?” a well-endowed young woman in a tight T-shirt and short shorts asked as she stopped in front of him, a tray of drinks balanced on her shoulder and right hand.
“No. I’m alone.”
“Okay, well, there are a couple empty seats over there.” She waved toward a pair of vacant tables near the bar. “I’ll take your order as soon as I give these airboat peeps their refills.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank me with your pocketbook, sugar.” She winked and bounced off to a table on the far side of the room, her long blond ponytail swishing along with her hips.
Good grief. She didn’t look old enough to serve alcohol, let alone dress like that or flirt with him. He looked away, feeling like a perv for even noticing the sway of her hips. Hopefully she was older than she seemed. But one thing was for sure—he felt far older than his thirty-one years right now.
He scanned the tables again, more slowly this time, the booths along the right wall, the short hallway on the left side of the room, just past the bar. But there was no sign of Silver. And no sign of Eddie, either. He eyed the set of stairs directly in front of him that ran up the far wall. A red velvet rope hung across the bottom with a sign on it—Employees Only. Was that where she’d gone? If not, she had to be in the kitchen, or in one of the rooms down the hallway.
Maybe he was too late and she’d already ducked out a back door. He decided to check the hallway first, to see if that was where the door was. But all he found were the restrooms, which he presumed had no exits. He did a quick circuit of the men’s room and then paused outside the ladies’ room, debating whether he should check it, as well.
“Something wrong with the men’s room?”
He turned, surprised and also relieved to see Silver standing about ten feet away, at the opening to the hallway. She hadn’t gotten away. Her eyes, which he’d already realized were a fascinating shade of gray, a silvery gray—her namesake perhaps?—narrowed suspiciously and her hands were on her hips. Or maybe Silver was a nickname because of her taste in jewelry. Right now she had on silver hoop earrings and a long silver necklace.
A peacock. Her unique, colorful ensemble—topped off with purple laces on her left shoe and neon green laces on her right—reminded him of a beautiful peacock with its feathers spread in all their glory. That made him want to smile, which only made him irritated. She’s a suspect, Colton. Get a grip.
“Just checking th
e place out,” he said, seeing no benefit in giving up his cover just yet, not without knowing where Eddie was and whether she’d warned him. “I was curious what was down this way.”
“Right. Was there a problem with your room at the inn? Is that why you followed me?”
The accusation in her tone, in every line of her body, swept away his earlier amusement. She was the one accepting stolen property at best; in league with the robbery ring at worst. And she was acting as if he was in the wrong? He was tempted to take his handcuffs out of his back pocket and put an end to this charade right now. But there was too much on the line to let his anger, justifiable or not, rule his actions. He needed to play it cool, try to calm her fears and, if possible, make her trust him.
He stopped directly in front of her. “Okay, you caught me. I didn’t actually go into my room. I changed my mind and thought I’d explore the area first. And when I noticed you going in here, I figured—” he smiled sheepishly “—I hoped, maybe I could catch you and convince you to have breakfast with me.” He braced an arm on the wall beside her and grinned. “After all, you did ask me to take off my clothes. Sharing a meal is nothing compared to that.”
Her eyes widened and her face flushed. Good. He’d knocked her off balance. And hopefully deflected her suspicions. If he could get her to believe he was interested in her, then maybe she’d think his earlier questions had been an excuse just to talk to her.
It wasn’t as if he really had to pretend. He was interested in her. If he wasn’t on the job right now, and didn’t believe she was mixed up in criminal activity, there’d be no question about his intentions—he’d pursue her like a randy high school teenager after his first crush. Because Silver Westbrook was exactly the kind of woman he liked—beautiful and smart. And unlike his last fling, Camilla, Silver was a Florida native. And she was blue-collar, like him. On the surface, there didn’t seem to be any reason to keep them apart.
Except for a little thing called grand theft.
“That is why you came in here, right?” he said. “To eat?”
