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“The less you know, the better,” she said. “Isn’t that what you used to tell me when you’d come off a crime scene? As if my delicate, feminine sensibilities would swoon just for thinking about what my flatfoot husband had encountered.”
“I’m no longer your husband,” he reminded her. And he’d learned well that there was nothing delicate about Tiffany. Hard and unyielding, like a hammer, was more like it.
“You’ve got that right. Though Gavin does seem to miss you, on occasion.”
“Don’t,” he said, the word coming out on a fierce growl as every muscle in his body tightened in defense. “Don’t dangle him in front of me any more than you already are.” He couldn’t stand it.
“All right. Just remember what I said. Get inside her head, her files, whatever you have to do to find out everything there is to know about the inn, the adjacent property and if she has investors. If she does, I want to know who and how much.”
“Are you going to buy them off, too?”
“If necessary. I’ll need a progress report every night, Cole.”
“So you can keep tabs on me, as usual.”
“So I know you’re doing your job. I’m not paying for you to stay there so you can lounge under the sun, drink mai tais and work on your tan.”
“Yeah, don’t worry. Nobody knows that more than me. I’m out.” He hung up and took a moment to steady himself. The woman could wind him up quicker than a Matchbox car. It was sickening. Fighting the urge to put his fist through one of Briar’s lovely walls, he dug through his backpack until he found something clean to wear.
* * *
BRIAR HAD MADE the mistake of looking at him again as she closed the door to the bay-view suite. And this time, her gaze had taken its time perusing freely. Beads of water had rolled down his chest from the wet, tousled tips of his black hair. The lure felt more than magnetic—it melted her. Turning away from the tempting sight, she had shut the door smartly at her back, hoping her hormones would get the message No!
Her legs wobbled on the stairs. When she made it safely to the kitchen, she managed to sink into one of the breakfast table’s chairs before she could shrink to the floor.
She fought to cool her heated cheeks, banishing the image of her guest’s sculpted chest from her memory.
It had been a long time since she’d been so drawn to a man—and where had that gotten her? Into a whole heap of trouble. The last thing she needed now was a repeat of what had happened in Paris....
Knuckles rapped against the frame of the screen door. Briar glanced up. Relief swelled at the sight of sure distraction.
“Hey, let me in!” her cousin, Olivia Lewis, called through the door.
“I’m sorry,” Briar apologized, springing up. She unbolted the screen and pushed it open with a creak so Olivia could breeze through. “I was distracted.”
“Yeah?” Olivia said in her characteristically lurid voice. “You looked it.” She held up a large crate. “The wine you ordered.”
“Oh,” Briar said, remembering. “Right.” She took a knife from a drawer to pry the lid open, glad for the activity as Olivia made herself cozy at the table. “Staying for breakfast?”
“Yeah. I thought I’d check up on this new guest of yours.”
Briar’s hands fumbled at the mere mention of Cole. The bottles in her arms clinked together as she elbowed the door to the liquor cabinet open. “Why?”
“He seems like an interesting character,” Olivia mused, picking a ripe purple plum out of the bowl at the center of the table.
“What could you possibly know about him?” Briar asked. “You haven’t even met him.”
“I’m not deaf. You’ve got a biker living under your roof. I just want to make sure he’s not eyeing the family silver.”
“You’re terrible! He’s not like that,” Briar blurted. Instantly, she wanted to clap her hand over her mouth. Instead, she broke down the crate and tossed it into the disposal behind the pantry door.
“What do you mean?” Olivia raised a knowing brow. “He’s hot, isn’t he?”
“Would you lower your voice?” Briar said. “He’s right upstairs!”
“I knew it,” Olivia said. “One look at those crimson cheeks of yours could only mean one thing. Come clean.”
“Let’s not do this now,” Briar begged as she tucked cinnamon rolls into a bread basket and set them on the table beside a small stack of plates. “Please.”
Olivia smirked. “Well, I guess if you’re not interested, I might as well take a whack at him.”
Briar’s cheeks were on fire. She turned to the sink. “Do what you want,” she muttered and began to scrub furiously at a cooking pan. “You always do. And I’m not interested.”
“Yeah, sure.” Olivia knew Briar better than anyone. They weren’t just cousins. They’d grown up together, Briar’s mother managing Hanna’s and Olivia’s parents turning Tavern of the Graces into a runaway success.
Olivia had long, blond hair that hung halfway down her back in flyaway curls and her sharp green eyes didn’t miss a trick. She stood nearly a head shorter than Briar but made up for it with her boisterous personality, an uproarious, booming laugh and an unchecked streak of righteousness.
Despite their differences, they’d grown as close as sisters over the years. Guilt riddled Briar over the tinge of envy. Olivia could bait the opposite sex with a mere sidelong glance and, by extension, make Briar feel completely inadequate in the men department.
The swinging kitchen door opened behind her and her fingers stiffened around her scrub brush when she got a strong whiff of soap and shampoo. Not quite steady enough to look, she continued to buffer the oven pan.
“Good morning, ladies.”
“Hi,” Olivia greeted, rising from her chair with a flirty smile.
“Are you staying here, too?” Cole asked.
“Hell, no,” Olivia said with a loud cackle. “I couldn’t afford a room here if I sold my tavern.”
“Tavern?”
“Briar didn’t tell you about me? She’s certainly forgotten her manners. Olivia Lewis. I own Tavern of the Graces right next door.”
“Cole Savitt. You don’t look like a bartender.”
“Let me tell you something, mister,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I make a margarita Jimmy Buffet would weep over.”
He laughed. Briar’s insides trembled over the deep sound. She certainly hadn’t made him laugh, had she? “I might have to find out for myself,” he replied.
“Then come on by later, if you’re not busy. Not much to do around this place.”
Briar’s back stiffened as Cole hesitated. “I might,” he repeated. “Are you joining us for breakfast, Olivia?”
“I wouldn’t miss the cinnamon rolls for anything,” Olivia drawled. “Tell me about yourself, Mr. Savitt. What brings you to Hanna’s?”
He settled on one of the seats at the table. “It’s personal.”
“Hmm. Well, you can’t leave us dangling like that. Can he, Briar?”
Briar lifted a shoulder, drying a coffee mug and setting it in the open cupboard over the counter. “It’s his business.”
Olivia let out an exasperated huff. “Enough with the Sandra Lee. Would you sit down?”
Briar sighed, drying her hands. She turned to the oven. “I’m waiting for the quiche.”
“Quiche, too?” Cole asked, brow quirked in interest. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“You better believe it,” Olivia advised.
Briar took a pot holder off a hook on the wall and opened the door. “Close enough.” She pulled the quiche out and set it on the waiting trivet on the table, moving the bowl of fruit to the counter and replacing it with a server of fruit salad. “What would you like to drink, Cole?”
“Coffee’s fine,” he said, lifting his mug.
“Liv?”
“OJ for me. So did you bring a wife along, Cole?”
“No,” he replied with an edge to his voice. “I don’t have a wife.”
Olivia pursed her lips, curious. “I’ve never been married, either.”
As Briar brought Olivia’s juice to the table and settled into a chair, her eyes met his. “What about you?” he asked.
She paused. “Erm...me?”
“Process of elimination, cuz,” Olivia quipped, watching her with a sly grin.
“No. I’ve never been married,” she stammered before dropping her face to hide another flush and piled fruit salad onto her plate.
“Briar hasn’t been on a date in years,” Olivia blurted. “Needless to say, we all think she seriously needs to get laid.”
“Olivia! Honestly, that’s enough,” Briar squealed as Cole choked on a cinnamon roll.
“What?” Olivia asked. “We’re all family. No need to hide the truth. Especially when he might be able to help you out with that. Would you mind loosening her up for us, Cole?”
Briar groaned, pressing a hand over her eyes to ward off Olivia’s scheming expression.
“I’d love to.”
Briar’s hand and jaw dropped simultaneously. Her eyes widened, her heart leaping with surprise and...something else. Delight? She saw his playful grin then Olivia’s. “Oh!” she shrieked, embarrassment trawling through her.
“I’m sorry, Briar,” Cole said sincerely. “Couldn’t resist.”
“You’ll fit right in around here,” Olivia decided, slapping him companionably on the back.
“I hope so.” He smiled as he scooped a forkful of quiche into his mouth. His eyes flared, softened. “Whoa. Holy smokes.”
Olivia’s conspiratorial twinkle was back, suggestive as ever. “Look, Briar, he even likes your cooking.”
“That’s an understatement,” he amended, swallowing another bite. He gazed at her. “This is incredible.”
Briar’s lips curved warmly now. “Thank you.”
“She’s the best cook in L.A.” At his dubious look, Olivia laughed. “That’s Lower Alabama, newcomer.” Olivia’s digital watch beeped and she cursed. Dropping her fork to her plate with a sharp clang, she pushed her chair back to rise. “Duty calls.”
“You’re going to work already?” Briar asked. “You didn’t finish your breakfast.”
“I’ll survive, Mama.” She took her plate to the sink to rinse. “The bar doesn’t open until noon. I’m helping that new girl move her stuff into the shop upstairs.”
Briar gasped. “I forgot all about that!”
“Don’t get up. Two pairs of hands will get the job done fine,” Olivia assured her as she dried hers. “And Adrian’s going to sneak up when she can.”
“I’ll head over later to see if you need anything,” Briar said. She’d fit it in between fixing a leaky sink and weeding flower beds. “Call me if y’all need me before then.”
“You just do what you do best first.” Olivia leaned over and kissed the top of Briar’s head. “Be good.” She sent Cole a sidelong grin as she headed out the screen door. “Don’t give her any trouble now, ya hear?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he assured her. “I’ll come by later for that margarita.”
“You do that. First one’s on me. See you two lovebirds later.”
When the door rapped shut, Briar turned to him with a grimace. “I’m sorry about that.”
“She’s a feisty one.”
“Always has been,” Briar said with a weary sigh. “Trust me. There’s never a dull moment around here.”
“You grew up here?”
“Yes. My mother established the inn after she married my father. A short time later, Olivia’s parents bought the bar from a couple of retirees and rebuilt from the ground up. They lived in the apartment upstairs. When they retired, they handed it all over to Olivia. Ever since I took over, it seems I’m either over at the tavern yelling at her to turn the music down or she’s over here making a fool of me in front of my guests.”
“You’re right. Never a dull moment. Can I have another one of these?”
Her face lit with a quick smile. “Finish them off, by all means.” She passed the basket of cinnamon rolls across the table and felt the glow spread from her heart to her cheeks when he took two. “I’m glad you like them.”
“Mmm. This is all wonderful, Briar. I don’t remember the last time I had a fine meal like this.”
In an instant, his eyes clouded over again. She wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand, squeeze it reassuringly. Anything to erase that haunted look from his face.
Before she could react or resist, the phone rang. She lifted her napkin to dab the corners of her mouth. “Excuse me.”
He raised a hand to show that her departure didn’t bother him.
She sprinted into the entryway. Hopefully, it was another customer calling to reserve a suite. Or an investor. Please, let it be one or the other. “Hanna’s Inn,” she greeted, pulse pumping in her ears.
“Ms. Browning?”
“Yes.”
