Vaughn closed his eyes as he rubbed at the throbbing pain between his eyes. What the hell could Jessica want? It wasn’t like her to just show up. If it were anyone else, he’d tell Ailsa to say he was in a meeting.
“Send her in.”
A few seconds later, Jessica strode in looking pretty as a picture in a silk blouse tucked into a figure-hugging navy pencil skirt. How good she looked, however, was overridden by the concern creasing her brow.
“Jessica, what brings you to the hotel?” He stood up and gestured to the seat opposite his desk. She took it as he leaned against his desk.
“I’m worried about Bailey.”
Those four words made his heart rate pick up speed, but ever the consummate businessman he kept his expression bland. “How so?”
“I think Ian Devlin is gearing up to cause her trouble at the inn.”
“And you think this why?” His tone belied the sudden heat in his blood. Every protective instinct inside of him wanted to demand Jessica tell him what she knew so he could go straight to Devlin and threaten to castrate him.
Jesus Christ. That damn redhead had turned him into a caveman.
“I just had lunch with Bailey. One of the Devlins caught her arguing with Tom the other night and made comments about her being stressed out. The next thing you know Bailey’s dad and brother both get calls from Ian Devlin asking if they were reconsidering selling in order to reduce Bailey’s stress during the difficult time of her breakup.”
“You think they’re going to come after her while she’s vulnerable over the breakup?”
“Yes.” Jessica cocked her head to the side in study of him. “Although, just so you know, Bailey is doing fine. Better than fine. Breaking up with Tom was the right thing to do and she knows it.”
He ignored her pointed info-share. “But Devlin doesn’t know that.”
Jess looked disappointed at his avoidance but repeated, “But Devlin doesn’t know that.”
Processing this, Vaughn stood up and moved around to his side of the desk. “Okay.”
“What does ‘okay’ mean? Are you going to look into this?”
“There’s not a lot to look into.”
She glowered at him. “Don’t play cool with me, Vaughn. Neither of us wants Devlin bothering Bailey.”
Sullen, he wondered how the hell the good doctor had worked out he had feelings for Bailey Hartwell. He guarded his emotions like they were precious stones. Yet somehow, somewhere he’d given himself away in front of Jessica Huntington.
He didn’t like it.
“Am I to take your intimidating silence to mean you’ll look out for her?”
“You don’t trust Cooper to?”
“Cooper wouldn’t let anything happen to Bailey. But he also doesn’t have the money, power, or influence to squash a bug like Devlin.”
“Devlin hasn’t done anything wrong yet. If he crosses the line, let me know.”
Huffing, Jessica stood up to leave. She seemed to think better of it and glanced back at him. “You don’t know how perfect you two are for each other. One ice, one fire, but both stubborn as hell.”
He didn’t respond to her rather poetic barb.
In answer she narrowed her eyes on him. “I also came here to say that Cooper and I want to get married at the end of the summer. On the boardwalk. You have the only establishment big enough to host a wedding reception.”
“At the end of the summer? The conference center is almost booked out for the summer, and even if it wasn’t, it’s not enough time to prepare for a wedding reception.”
She shrugged. “We don’t want to drag our engagement out. I’m sure you could consider it a favor to Cooper.” She smirked. “We both know you wouldn’t do anything to harm that little bromance.”
He rolled his eyes. Save him from these devious Hartwell women. “Good-bye, Dr. Huntington,” he bit out.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll speak to Ailsa about setting up a meeting with your events coordinator.”
He watched her leave, an unwilling smile tugging at his lips.
Vaughn sat in silence for a while, knowing he should return to worrying about Grant’s management skills. Instead he sat stewing over the idea of anyone trying to cause trouble for Bailey.
He knew of the rumors that Devlin used illegal means to further his success, but so far that’s all they were. Rumors.
Vaughn had given Devlin space because there was no point in using his influence to bring down someone who wasn’t causing any real trouble.
However . . . if Ian dared to go after Bailey and her inn, Vaughn would castrate him.
Metaphorically speaking . . .
Anger burned in his gut at the thought of Bailey losing what she loved, or worse, getting hurt in the crossfire of Devlin’s single-minded aspirations.
Maybe physically, too.
EIGHT
Bailey
Watch over Jay Thursday because it’s his first cover for Mona.
Remember to buy Twinings English Breakfast tea to put in the Yellow Room for the Goldmans’ arrival on Friday.
Go to the bank to pay the electric bill. Joy.
Call Mom and tell her no way in hell am I going on a date with a guy whose Facebook cover photo is of two women mud wrestling.
Call the plumber about the gurgling noise coming from the shower in the Ocean View Suite.
Buy a pork loin for dinner with Jess, Coop, and family.
Ooh, and ask Mona to bake profiteroles, too.
Put the infamous red stilettos on eBay.
On that note, spring-clean my wardrobe to see if anything else can go on eBay.
I sighed, and rolled onto my side in bed.
It was almost impossible for me to drift immediately to sleep when I finally got myself into a bed. You’d think after the long hours I worked my exhaustion would pull me right under. Unfortunately, I had so many tasks and thoughts and worries whirring around in my brain on any given day that it took a while for my brain to shut down.
After another long day at the inn I’d crashed in the room I kept open at the back of the house. For the longest time I’d done my very best to drag myself home for Tom, but now I didn’t have to worry about that and when I was tired it was nice that I could sleep at the inn. The small room had come in handy because like all the guest rooms it had its own bathroom, and when Jess was struggling last year I had let her stay there while she worked as my manager.
I reached over for my phone and groaned at the time. I’d thought I was being a good girl going to bed early at midnight. It was one o’clock now and I was still not asleep.
Come to me, goddess of sleep!
I huffed and kicked out the covers, flipping over onto my other side.
Just as I was drifting close to that heavenly oblivion of slumber I heard a creak down the hall from my room. Near my office.
I sat up and listened, wondering if one of my guests was wandering around. The click of my office door opening made my heart rate speed up.
None of my guests should be wandering into my office.
And shit, I needed to start locking it.
Out of nowhere, I was hit by the horrible feeling that the person who had opened my office door wasn’t one of my guests.
The stairs in the inn were creaky. There was no way I wouldn’t have heard someone coming down those.
The blood whooshed in my ears as my heart pounded against my chest. Grabbing my phone, I got out of bed as quietly as possible and tiptoed over to my door.
I winced at the slight snick of the handle turning and froze, waiting. When I was sure I hadn’t been heard, I opened it, peering out into my dark hallway. There was a faint light coming from my office. A moving light.
A flashlight.
I felt sick at the violation of someone breaking into the inn.
But also extremely pissed off.
Tiptoeing down the hall, avoiding the all too familiar creaky spots in the floorboards, I got to the office and cautiously peeked my head around the door.
Uncertainty and, yes, not a little bit of fear moved through me at the sight of the tall masked man rifling through my files. My computer screen was on but it was password protected. There was the possibility he was looking for something to help him work out the password but he’d find nothing. I had memorized an anagram to remember my complicated password.
The man, dressed all in black, turned his head to the side, and even in the woolen ski mask he wore over his face I recognized him.
Stu Devlin.
I was sure of it.
It made sense. Was he searching for something that might be useful as leverage in obtaining the inn from me?
Moron.
There was no way that Ian Devlin put him up to this in his effort to amass more boardwalk real estate. Stu’s father might be an asshole but he was a much sneakier asshole than his idiot son.
I dialed 911 on my phone as I stepped into the room.
He jerked at my arrival, his head snapping in my direction.
Dark, flat eyes stared at me and I knew without a doubt it was Stu.
“Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”
“I have an intruder in my establishme—oof!” His body hit mine before I even had time to react to him suddenly launching himself at me.
My breath slammed out of me as I crashed to the floor, pain juddering through my head as it smacked against the floorboards. At the heavy, warm weight settling over me, my eyes flew open in panic.
Stu’s cruel eyes glared down at me as he reached for the phone in my hand. I gripped it tighter, struggling to keep hold of it as his strong fingers clawed at mine. He grabbed my wrist and hammered it against the floor. Pain shot down my arm and I reflexively let go of the phone.
He threw it against the wall, grunting in satisfaction at the sound of it breaking.
Fury roared through me at the shock of him physically attacking me. With my good hand I reached for his mask, my nails scratching him as I tried to drag it off his face so I could finally have evidence to get a Devlin charged with a crime.
“I know it’s you!” I screeched as his fingers bit into my hands.
We struggled as adrenaline aided me in my pissed-off quest to unmask the bastard. I wasn’t thinking. I was just too angry.
He hissed as I clawed at his arm and he released me to pull his elbow back, his fist coming toward me as I stared up at him in horror.
But his fist never met my face.
Suddenly he was no longer straddling me because another body had launched itself at him, throwing him off me.
I scrambled to my feet. “Holy fuck,” I breathed, stunned.
The other body belonged to the man who was currently wrestling Stu. And that man was Vaughn. A very furious Vaughn.
Stu grunted as Vaughn punched him, but then Vaughn grunted when Stu buried his fist in Vaughn’s gut. It was a hard enough hit to wind him, catching him off guard, and off balance. He was quick to his feet though, lunging at Stu, grappling with him. I watched as they fought, Stu deftly avoiding becoming unmasked.
When he landed a punch on Vaughn’s face, I’d had enough.
I jumped on Stu’s back.
And found myself promptly thrown off and at Vaughn.
I felt his strong arms bind around my waist as he pulled me away from an inevitable collision with my desk, and cursed like a sailor at the sight of my attacker sprinting out of the office and out of our grasp.
“Are you okay?” Vaughn’s hands roamed my body for injury.
I jerked away, unnerved by how much I wanted his comfort right then. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, you’re trembling.”
I narrowed my eyes on his jaw, looking for injury. There was a faint redness that I knew was going to look bad in the morning if we didn’t get some ice on it. “I didn’t get hit in the face.”
“Because I was there to stop him. What the hell were you—” His eyes darted behind me and he stiffened.
I glanced over my shoulder and my gut churned.
My guests were crowded outside my office, sleepy, disgruntled, and concerned.
“Everything alright?” one of my return visitors, Mr. Ingles, asked.
“A small mishap,” I said cheerily, walking toward them as if I wasn’t currently wearing a silk camisole and shorts that showed off way too much of my body. As if I wasn’t walking through a scattered mess of files and objects that had crashed to the floor during all the violent tussling. “But it’s quite alright.”
“I’m calling the sheriff,” Vaughn said behind me, and even though I knew it was the right thing to do I squeezed my eyes closed and groaned.
“The sheriff? What happened?”
“Oh dear. Are we safe?”
I listened to my guests voicing their fears, and wished just once that I could let them think what they wanted, let them leave if they wanted! I was shaken, shocked, hurt, and frankly pissed way the fuck off.
The last thing I wanted to do was play the ever-congenial innkeeper.
But I had to.
I opened my eyes and strode in among them. “Please, you are all safe. Nothing like this has ever happened before, but I can assure you that the intruder will not be returning and the inn will be secure. If you’d all like to return to your rooms while I deal with the sheriff—quietly, I promise. Of course I will deduct tonight’s room fee from your bill and dining tomorrow is free all day for all guests. On top of that I will issue you all a fifty percent discount if you choose to return to the inn in the future.”
As I hoped it would, all my discounts and freebies worked their magic and my guests trundled back up to their rooms murmuring to one another about the nuisance but also about Mona’s delicious muffins and crème brûlée.
Wrapping my arms around myself I stared at the entrance to the inn. Both doors were wide open.
“Here.” Vaughn appeared at my side.
I glanced at him, surprised to see he was offering me his leather jacket.
Accepting it, I slipped it over me, and got a giant, delicious whiff of his cologne as I did so. An inappropriate tingle shot through my breasts and I wrapped the too-large jacket shut so he couldn’t see my pebbled nipples. “Thank you,” I whispered, staring at him.
Vaughn stared back, concern in his beautiful eyes.
He’d never looked at me like that before.
I felt compelled to say, “I’m okay.”
The concern melted under anger. “You’re not okay,” he snapped. “Do you have any idea who the intruder was?”
“I’m positive it was Stu Devlin.”
He cursed under his breath, the muscle in his jaw working. And then that anger was directed at me. “Why the hell didn’t you call the police instead of confronting him?”
My lips parted in surprise at his attack. “For your information I was calling the police as I was confronting him. I didn’t think he’d throw me to the ground! I thought it was Stu being an ass. I didn’t think he’d hurt me.” I shivered at the thought.
“Well now he’s a dead man.”
I felt a rush of sudden desire between my legs at the strangely protective vibe I was getting off him. The feeling unsettled me. “How did . . . Why were you here?”
He glanced over at my open double doors. “I sometimes stroll down the boardwalk at night. When I was passing I saw your doors were open. He must have picked the lock.” Vaughn’s eyes narrowed. “I knew something was wrong so I came inside to check, and I heard the struggle coming from your office.”
Thank God.
Never in my life did I think I’d be grateful for Vaughn Tremaine’s presence but I was. In fac
t I was beyond grateful. I didn’t know if it was adrenaline or shock or what . . . but I was a turned-on kind of grateful.
“Well . . . thanks,” I whispered, unable to look at him.
If I looked at him, he’d know I was imagining stripping that gorgeous dark red sweater right off of him. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes. He’d rolled up the sleeves of the sweater, revealing tan corded forearms.
I had this thing about strong forearms and nice hands on a guy.
Vaughn had both.
I bit my lip at the sight and tried to pull myself together.
What the hell!
It’s the adrenaline, I assured myself.
The sound of my garden gate swinging open sent relief through me. A much-needed distraction in the form of Sheriff King entered my inn.
Jeff King had been voted into office the same year my mother’s good friend Jaclyn Rose was voted into office as mayor. Jeff was rugged, competent, fair, an all-around good guy and sheriff. He was also widowed. His wife had passed away of cancer eight years ago and the women of Hartwell had been sniffing around him ever since. Without much luck.
Dahlia had a fling with him a number of years ago, and I think Jeff had liked her. Unfortunately, she was the wrong woman to start over with. I’d been frustrated, a little annoyed even, when Dahlia broke things off with him—until I remembered my friend was too good at punishing herself. And also that she gave her heart away to someone else a long time ago, even if she refused to admit it.
The sight of Jeff calmed me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t feel safe. I felt safe with Vaughn standing beside me. But I didn’t feel calm. There was nothing calming about being this attracted to a man I wasn’t even sure I liked very much.
“Jeff,” I said. “I mean Sheriff.” I always forgot to call him that when he was on duty.
At six feet five, the tall, broad-shouldered police officer seemed to fill the entire space. And I was okay with that. I liked his powerful presence right then more than I could say.
“Hey, Bailey.” Deputy Wendy Rollins stepped into the inn, glancing around, taking everything in. Wendy had been part of our police force for twenty years, and was another good friend of my mom’s.
Every Little Thing Page 9
