by Lena Gregory
“If I remember the layout correctly, we can put a spiral staircase in the back corner. It’ll look nice and fit in great with the design of the shop.” He fumbled through the sketches. “Here.” He handed her two sketches.
She studied them for a moment. “Oh, this is great.” She cringed. “How much do you think it’ll cost?”
“It really shouldn’t be too much. The biggest expense will probably be the staircase.” He shrugged. “Other than that, it’s just the wood and stuff. You’re not going to add display cases upstairs?”
“No, not yet. Eventually, I’d like to, but right now I just want to make a little more room downstairs. If I don’t do something, I’m going to have to start limiting how many people can attend the group readings.”
Emmett used his thumb and finger to smooth his goatee. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll stop by the shop this week and check everything out. Then I’ll write you up an estimate.”
Cass nodded. “That would be great. Thank you.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get started on them over the weekend. Joey can help me.” Pride filled his voice when he spoke of his son.
“He’s a great kid,” Cass said.
Emmett beamed. “He sure is.”
She racked her brain for a way to question him about Jay but couldn’t think of a way to guide the conversation in that direction.
Emmett started cleaning off the counter. “Do you want any of these other sketches?”
Cass shuffled through them quickly. “No. The ones you already gave me are perfect.”
He took the papers back, crumpled them, and tossed them in the garbage pail.
“Where’s Jay today? Doesn’t he usually work on Mondays?” Okay. That was smooth.
Emmett didn’t seem to think it strange she’d ask. “Yeah. He had stuff to do, so he left early.”
“He must be really upset about Marge.”
Emmett shrugged. “Seemed okay to me.”
Ugh . . . Getting answers out of him is like pulling teeth. “Has he said how Ellie’s doing?”
“Nah. She’s a nice kid, that one.”
“Yes, she is. It’s hard to believe her mother’s gone.”
“Yeah.”
Cass gave up. She obviously wasn’t going to get any information from Emmett. When it came to talking about something that excited him, like his side business doing renovations or Joey, Emmett could hold a conversation. When it came to making small talk . . . not so much.
“Anyway, thanks for the sketches.” Cass tucked them into her purse. “And for working on the shop.”
“No problem.” Emmett walked to the door with her, keys in hand. “Ya know, it is kinda weird her car’s not there.”
“Whose car?” Cass pulled the door open and waited for Emmett to answer, her mind already racing ahead to what she still had to do. The blonde who had shown up before the group reading should be at the shop soon, and she still had to set up for her reading. She inhaled deeply. She loved the smell of the sea. It never failed to soothe her nerves.
“Ms. Hawkins.” Emmett stuck the key into the lock on the door.
Cass’s heart started to pound harder. “Her car’s not where?”
“By the fence.”
“What are you talking about?” She massaged the tension gathering in her temples.
Emmett smoothed a hand over his goatee, and Cass instantly regretted being short with him. He appeared to be lost in thought, though. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed. “I always thought it was strange she was hangin’ around the hotel.” He pursed his lips, and for a minute she thought he was done talking. “Every Monday and Wednesday her car was parked right there beside the fence, but on the hotel side.” Emmett pointed toward the spot where Jay’s truck had been parked.
“Are you sure it was her car?”
Emmett wasn’t the most observant person.
Indignation filled his scowl. “Of course, I’m sure. Knowing cars is my business.”
She nodded. She had to concede, if there was one thing Emmett knew, it was cars. “Are you sure she was driving?” An image of Jay sneaking to his truck flashed into her mind. “Could someone have borrowed the car?” Cass thought frantically about what Marge Hawkins could have been doing at the Bay Side Hotel twice a week.
“Nah. I saw her getting in it a coupla times. Never could figure out why she’d be there.” He stared at the empty parking spot for another second, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, I gotta make dinner for Joey.”
“Oh, sorry. Thanks, Emmett.”
He smiled. “Sure. See ya later.”
“Yeah. See ya.” She never took her eyes from the empty parking spot at the hotel while she ran to the car. She opened the door, tossed her purse over the seat, and hopped in. Then she sat, hands resting on the wheel, and stared at the hotel parking lot. What in the world could Marge have been doing at the hotel twice a week?
“Well?” Bee frowned at her. “Are you going to sit there all day without telling me about the stranger?”
Cass laughed. He’d obviously forgiven her for the mad dash in search of Jay. She shifted the car into gear and backed up. She glanced at the dashboard clock. She still had time to drop Bee off at home before heading back to Mystical Musings for her appointment, but she’d have to visit the hotel later. Or tomorrow. Maybe it would be best to come back on Wednesday and see what was going on that Marge could have been a part of.
“Is the rest of him as sexy as his voice?” Bee sounded like he was losing patience fast.
“Nope.”
His grin faltered.
“Sexier.” She pulled her gaze from the road for a second to wink at him, and his grin returned full force.
12
Cass climbed the steps to the porch of Mystical Musings and walked around the shop to the beach side. She tossed her keys into her bag, dropped the bag onto a scuffed wooden table, and flopped into one of the rocking chairs scattered along the porch. She propped her feet on the railing and rocked slowly back and forth as she stared out at the bay. Small ripples from a boat’s wake lapped at the shore.
She leaned her head against the high back of the chair, let her eyes fall closed, and tried to relax. The gentle breeze carried the buzz of the boat’s motor, joined with children’s laughter, seagulls screeching, and the clinking of the wooden wind chimes dangling from the porch roof. A seagull shrieked. A shadow drifted over her.
Cass shot upright, dropping her feet to the porch. A seagull.
Ugh . . . What is wrong with me? She rubbed her hands over her face and stood. So much for relaxing.
She grabbed her bag on her way into the shop that usually brought her such peace. She had to settle her thoughts, keep them from battering her so continuously. Jay, Ellie, Marge . . . Luke. A small smile tugged.
She pulled out the small basket of colored pencils and set it on the table beside a stack of white paper. A color reading would be good today. Maybe it would help relax her. She set a candle in the center of the table.
She tried to remember the blonde who’d been cozied up to Jay. Was it the same woman? No use. She’d glimpsed the woman for only a brief moment through the car window. But she was definitely going to find out. She just had to figure out how. Maybe she could ask the woman if she knew him.
At the tinkling of the chimes, she turned. “Hi, Cayden.”
“How are you, Cass?”
She smiled. Cayden and his wife, Sophie, had been customers since Cass opened. “I’m doing well. This is a pleasant surprise.”
“We were out for the weekend, and I stayed an extra day to stop in and visit.”
Cass laughed. “Sure you did.” She pulled a small pouch from a drawer beneath the counter. “Your usual?”
His good-natured smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Yup.”
She sorted through several bins,
choosing the combination of crystals Cayden always carried. “How have you been feeling?”
“Much better since I listened to you.” He winked, humor dancing in his blue eyes.
Cayden was an ironworker in the city, almost forced to quit the job he loved because of rheumatoid arthritis. At his wife’s urging, and as a last resort, he’d visited Cass. Now he credited Cass’s assortment of crystals with healing him.
“By the way, can you give me something for morning sickness?”
Cass lifted a brow. “Something you want to tell me, Cayden?”
He chuckled softly. “Sophie’s having a tough month. She told me to see if you had anything that might help.”
“Of course.” She reached beneath the counter and grabbed a red pouch, then, suddenly quite certain Sophie was having a boy, thought better of it and chose a blue one. She added a few extra gems. “Tell her I hope she feels better.”
When she held out the pouch, Cayden gripped her hand. “I will.” He frowned, an unusual expression for the typically happy man. “Listen, Cass. I heard you had some trouble . . .”
Ahh . . . The real reason for his visit.
“And . . . well . . . I just wanted to let you know Sophie and I don’t believe a word of the gossip. If you need us, just call, and we’ll come out.”
A surge of warmth shot through Cass. She held back tears as she patted his arm with her free hand. “Thank you, Cayden. I appreciate the support.”
His already ruddy cheeks reddened even more. “Yeah, well. I’m gonna stop in at the sheriff’s office before we head back and let him know how I feel about him considering you a suspect.”
A vision of Cayden’s strong hand around Sherriff Langdon’s throat made her laugh out loud. “Thanks. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”
She rang up his crystals, giving him a discount because he was such a sweetheart. “Tell Sophie I hope she feels well enough to stop in next time you’re out.”
“You bet. Take care of yourself.”
She smiled as he strode out the door, almost feeling sorry for Langdon. Almost.
She glanced at the clock and was surprised it was well after three. A chill ran through her, raising the hairs along the back of her neck.
Cass returned the bins of crystals to their proper places. She strolled through the shop, rearranging knickknacks, adjusting the stock to make sure the shelves all looked full, without being cluttered. Some of the things she carried were simply souvenirs—small statues, lighthouse replicas, wineglasses, and other paraphernalia sporting the Bay Island logo.
But most of her stock held some meaning. The stones, which helped people heal and feel good. Creams, lotions, and candles designed to help people relax and reduce stress. A small assortment of various good luck charms and potions lined the shelves along one wall.
She polished the driftwood counter, set aside the paper and pencils, and gave up. The blonde hadn’t left a phone number, so there was no way to contact her. She hoped the woman wasn’t Jay’s mysterious girlfriend, because if she was, she would be the second of Jay’s women to disappear. She thought of the body-shaped bag slung over Jay’s shoulder, and a chill coursed through her.
She glanced up at the tinkling of the chimes, relieved the woman had finally made it, but ready to tell her she no longer had time for the reading. Luke’s grin stopped her short.
“I brought a gift.” He lifted a cup holder with two cups from Tony’s.
Cass laughed. “We have to stop meeting like this. People are going to talk.”
His languid chuckle seeped through her. “So, what are you doing now?”
“Now? Getting ready to close up and go to rehearsal.”
He handed her a cup. “Do you have a little time?”
She glanced at the clock. Surely Luke Morgan was a Bee-worthy excuse for being late. “Sure. What do you need?”
“I thought maybe you could finish my reading?”
“Oh.” She sipped her coffee and studied the colored pencils and paper she’d put aside. She didn’t have the right sense of peace to work with them with Luke in such close proximity. “Sure. Have a seat.” She sat across the table from him and pulled the crystal ball toward her.
Luke lifted a brow but didn’t question her. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, hands clasped.
Cass sipped her coffee again and reluctantly set the cup aside. She stared into the glass and brought an image of Luke to the front of her mind. It wasn’t hard. She let her eyes fall closed.
His dark good looks, the intensity of his gaze. She thought back to the bakery, where he had leaned against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. Defensive. A barrier . . . designed to hold people at a distance. And yet . . .
An image of him leaning close to her, invading her space, lifting a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. She longed to lean her cheek into that cupped hand and feel the warmth and strength of it against . . .
Cass gasped.
Her eyes shot open.
He was staring at her, his expression amused. “Did you see something scary in there?”
If she said yes, she wouldn’t be lying. Any level of intimacy scared her. She shook off the thought of Luke touching her and tried to concentrate. “You tend to hold people at a distance. Only letting them in on your terms, when you want to invite them in.”
He frowned a little and sat back. “I guess that’s fairly accurate.” He crossed his arms.
A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. Following the movement of his arms, her gaze traveled to his chest. Toned, muscular, but not big. She jerked her eyes back up to meet his. She blew out a breath and caught her lower lip between her teeth. What in the world is wrong with me?
She forced herself to concentrate on his eyes. The eyes held so much information about a person if you knew what to look for. And Cass did.
Luke’s eyes were guarded. His expression hard. Disciplined.
“You have secrets you keep well guarded. Important secrets that play a big role in your life . . .”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond or acknowledge her statement. His expression brought a memory into focus. She pictured the look on his face when he’d been talking on the phone outside of the bakery. Jaw clenched, eyes on fire. The words blurted out. “You’re passionate.”
His posture changed completely and relaxed. He leaned farther back. The hot, sexy grin returned, and his eyes held the promise of . . .
Cass jumped from her seat. Flames raced up her neck, and her cheeks burned. “You know what?”
He continued to watch her, his gaze holding hers in an iron grip. He stood and let his hands drop to his sides. “No . . . what?”
Cass held her ground as he skirted the table and walked toward her, her gaze never faltering from his. She tipped her head back to maintain eye contact as he moved closer.
When only an inch or so separated them, he stopped.
She took a deep breath in and held it, clinging to his scent.
“I have an idea.” He ran a finger along her cheek.
A chill raced through her body. Heat followed in its path.
“Why don’t I tell you your future?”
That smooth, southern drawl made her heart skip a beat. She nodded and checked the urge to reach up and make sure she wasn’t drooling.
He held his finger beneath her chin, forcing her to continue looking at him. “You are going to meet a tall . . .” He leaned closer. “Dark . . .”
The warmth of his breath tickled her in places she didn’t want to think about.
“Handsome . . .”
Her insides melted.
“Stranger.” His laughter was as sexy as the rest of him. He lowered his lips toward her. His voice dropped to a husky whisper against her ear. “Here’s where you’re supposed to say: I already did.”
>
The door chimes tinkled, and she jumped back like a cat hitting water. She nodded to a young couple, who started to browse.
Luke laughed, all the smoldering heat gone in an instant. “Saved by the bell?” He lifted a brow, obviously amused at her reaction.
Ding! It’s a defense mechanism. The thought slammed through her with absolute certainty. The increased southern accent, the sexy, smoldering gaze, the featherlight caresses. She shivered. It might be a defense mechanism, but it was certainly effective.
Luke had secrets he no doubt wanted to keep hidden.
He lifted his leather jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll catch you later.”
“Sure.” She had no doubt he’d show up somewhere throughout the day.
Now that she understood the whole sexy act, would she be immune to it? She watched him walk toward the door and groaned. Probably not.
She couldn’t help but admire the way the tight jeans accentuated the muscles of his thighs. Her gaze traveled upward to where his pants hugged . . .
Fear clutched her throat, its grip so tight it threatened to strangle her. Clearly defined beneath the form fitting T-shirt, tucked into his waistband, was the shape of a gun.
“Excuse me? Miss?”
She jumped, startled by the man at her side, his expression caught somewhere between Is this woman all right? and Is this chick crazy?
“I’m sorry. Can I help you?” She glanced toward the doorway again, but Luke had already disappeared through it.
13
Later that evening, Cass pulled into Stephanie’s driveway and parked. She grabbed the box of Chinese food from the backseat. “Can you get the sodas, Bee?”
“I already did, dear.”
They carried everything to the back door and knocked before they walked in. “Stephanie?” Cass dropped the box on the kitchen table. She poked her head into the living room. “Hello? Stephanie, you here?”
“Be right there.” Stephanie’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Cass grabbed a small stack of napkins from the holder on the counter.
