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L aura woke the next day with her father’s words still echoing. Would they bother her so much if they didn’t correlate with Quentin Randolph’s remarks when she had broken off their engagement a year ago?

She switched on the kitchen light and went straight to the coffeepot to wake it up, too. She left it running before bending down to scoop up the mass at her feet. Her long-haired tabby, Sebastian, cried out as she dropped kisses to the back of his head. She cradled him against her. His purring reverberated into her chest, easing the dregs of another terrible night of sleep.

She closed her eyes for a moment, pressing her cheek to his soft fur. “Good morning, handsome,” she whispered.

Feeling generous, Sebastian let her cuddle him, only growing restless when the coffee maker hissed as it percolated. When he wiggled, she set him on his feet and followed him to his food bowl. “Breakfast,” she agreed and set about preparing his morning noms.

Her mother had adored big hairballs like Sebastian. When it had come time to leave the house in LA, her brothers had agreed that Laura should take the cats. She had cared for her mother’s felines for the rest of their natural lives.

Sebastian was the first cat she’d brought home after burying the last of her mother’s. While shopping in Sedona one afternoon on her own, she’d stopped at the animal shelter. It hadn’t been the plan, but two hours later, she’d returned home with Sebastian in her arms.

After the relationship with Quentin had blown up in her face, her failures regarding marriage and starting her own family had trapped themselves in an echo chamber in her mind. The humiliation of learning Quentin’s true intentions had almost been too much. If not for Sebastian, work and her brothers...she’d still be living in that echo chamber.

Allison and Alexis, too, had helped. Their girls’ nights had increased in frequency. As Laura slid aside the long glass door leading onto her patio, she thought of all the evenings she and the girls had spent talking, laughing and commiserating.

She closed the door so Sebastian would stay in. Unknotting her robe, she slid it off. The pool beyond the deck chairs and firepit was heated. She cast off a shiver at the cool kiss of winter’s chill, setting the robe on the back of a chair. When she’d moved from her suite at L Building, she’d asked the bungalow’s designer to include a starting block next to the pool. She stepped onto the platform and hooked her toes over the edge. Folding, she gripped the edge of the block with her fingers. She counted off, imagined the starting bell and sprang forward, streamlined from fingers to toes.

No sooner had she hit the water than she started swimming. She flutter kicked, rotating to one side as her arm swept over her head, digging into the water, before she repeated the motions on the other side. The freestyle strokes took her to the end of the pool and back before she flipped over and started backstroking. She did a lap down and back this way before she flipped again and crossed the pool by butterflying. Finally, she finished with the breaststroke.

She’d done the relay so many times, she knew how many repetitions of each stroke it took to get from one end of the pool to the other. She knew, down to the inch, how much space she needed between herself and the wall to flip and change direction. When she finished, she gripped the edge of the pool, catching her breath.

Her time was slower today. Hooking her arms over the lip, she tilted her head to one side to let the water drip from her ear. Maybe it was the sleepless nights. Maybe her thoughts were weighing her down. She wanted nothing more than to cast them off. She no longer wanted to dwell on her father or Quentin Randolph.

Boosting herself over the edge, she sat with her feet dangling in the water, letting the cold prickle across the wet skin around her one-piece bathing suit. She watched her legs circle under the surface and contemplated another relay to drown the voices in her head.

She heard Sebastian scratching at the glass door. Her coffee would be done, and she would need to eat, shower and complete her hair and makeup routine before her morning meeting.

She toweled off, then draped the robe over her shoulders as she went inside. The house felt warm. She sat before the glass door with Sebastian at her side, watching the colors of breaking day stain the sky over silhouettes of peaks, enjoying the ritual of her first cup of coffee.

As she washed and dried her mug, she heard the knock at her front door. She set it on the drying rack and sidestepped Sebastian so she wouldn’t tread on his tail and upset him.

Joshua normally didn’t show up for another hour. She snatched open the door regardless.

Dressed in a leather jacket and blue jeans that looked like a flawless fit, Noah Steele brooded behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

He stared at the parting of her robe and the black bathing suit with cutouts above each hip. His frown deepened. “You always answer the door like this?”

She drew the robe around her, belting it tight. “You’re early.”

“Yeah, well,” he rumbled, removing the sunglasses. “I figured the sooner you and I figure out how to do...whatever the hell it is we’re doing...the better.”

“Come in,” she said, stepping back to admit him. As he moved inside her bungalow, she dragged a hand through her wet hair. “I’m sorry I’m not dressed. If you give me a moment, I can—”

“No need for formality,” he said. He stared at her in the low morning light from the windows. “Seeing the princess of Mariposa at the start of the day without makeup or any of the polish...” His mouth shifted into a side-cocked half smile. “It’s a trip.”

She looked away quickly. “There’s coffee, if you’d like some.”

Sebastian jumped onto the counter, eyeing the newcomer. Noah eyed him in return. “Who’s this?”

“This is Sebastian,” she said, dragging her fingers through the fur over his spine.

“You’re a cat person.”

“Yes,” she said. “What about you?”

“I don’t have pets.”

“Oh,” she said. She tried to contemplate coming home after a long day with no creature there to greet her.

He looked around, cataloging her everyday surroundings. “It’s too neat.”

She glanced around at her living space. There wasn’t much out of place other than the throw blanket she had used the night before on the couch and the hardback she had left face down on the coffee table. “I have someone who cleans for me once a week.”

“Must be nice.”

She fought the inclination to sigh over his presumptive tone. “If you don’t want coffee, we should get started.”

“It’s why I’m here.”

She sat on the sofa. Because her legs were bare and the robe reached midthigh, she twitched the throw blanket into place over them as he sat on the other end. She curled her legs up on the sofa beside her to disguise the move. “I thought about it a lot last night. I think, if people ask, we should put our relationship at six months.”

“Why six?” he asked.

Sebastian hopped up between them. When he sought the space next to her, she waited until he folded into a rest position to pet him. “Because that’s enough time for us to get to know each other. Since we decided you’re a musician and I’m here at Mariposa, we’ve been courting mostly over a long distance. Calls, texts, the occasional rendezvous.”

“‘Rendezvous,’” he repeated. “So the relationship’s sexual.”

She found she could blush. And he hadn’t even smiled at the suggestion. “Do you know many rock stars who abstain from sex?”

“I don’t know one rock star, period,” he replied.

She eyed the leather jacket. It was soft from wear, scarred in places and sheepskin-lined. He hadn’t bought it just for the cover story. And he wore it all too well. “Have you considered which place in the band you would like to be?” she asked, changing the subject. “Bass? Keyboards? Drums?”

“Rhythm guitar,” he responded readily.

“Can you play the guitar?” she asked, curious.

“No,” he admitted. “But, as you say, I’m not here to entertain. I’m here for a little R and R. And to see my girl.”

She tried to ignore the sudden rush of feeling...the wave of sheer heat at hearing him refer to her as his girl. Tamping down on it, she turned her attention to Sebastian’s belly when he rolled to expose it. “Six months will have given us plenty of time to grow loved up enough. There will be hand-holding involved. Hugging. Maybe kissing, to seal the illusion. Are you okay with that?”

“Are you?” he challenged.

“Yes.” She hoped.

“I’ve done undercover work,” he revealed. “It’s all part of the act.”

She opened her mouth to ask if he’d ever pretended to date another woman for the sake of work. The question washed away quickly. That wasn’t what she needed to know about him. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“So am I,” she said, offering a stilted smile. “My birthday’s May sixth. When’s yours?”

“November seventeenth.”

She nodded, filing the information away in case she needed it. “My middle name is Elizabeth.”

“Why do I need to know that?”

“It’s the sort of thing lovers would know about each other after a time,” she commented.

He looked away. “My full name’s Noah Nathaniel Steele. Nathaniel for my dad.”

She felt a smile warm her lips. Nathaniel seemed awfully formal. Like a nice tie he kept tucked away in a drawer because he’d decided it didn’t suit him. “Your real dad?”

“For this,” he said carefully, “maybe I shouldn’t be Noah Steele, former foster kid. Maybe the rhythm guitarist, Noah Steele, comes from a traditional home. A normal one. It’s less complicated.”

“Great artists rarely come from normal homes. But that’s your decision. Where do you want the new Noah Steele to come from—California?”

“Washington,” he decided. “I spent some time there with my mom before...”

As he trailed off, she willed him to say more. Was he speaking of his biological mother or his foster mom, the one he’d shared with Allison?

“Before...?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m from Washington State.”

“I’m originally from LA,” she pointed out. “Just for the record.”

“I know.”

She blinked. “Oh. You looked into me.”

“Part of the job,” he excused. “You want me to apologize?”

“No,” she blurted. “There’s nothing available that most people don’t know. And it’s good you know. For the sake of what we’re doing.”

“In that case,” he said, “why don’t you tell me what happened with Quentin Randolph a year ago? Why did you break off your Page Six engagement?”

She should have seen the question coming. It hit her like a wall. “He wasn’t who I thought he was.”

He lifted both brows when she said nothing more. “That’s it?”

She felt her shoulders cave a bit. “Quentin loved the idea of my wealth more than he loved the idea of me. He wanted the connections that come with the Colton name more than he wanted me. And he fooled me into thinking otherwise for a little over a year before my brothers caught on to his schemes.” She paused in the telling, then asked, “Is that enough or do you need more?”

Noah’s tungsten eyes flickered. “Did you love the guy?”

“Would you agree to marry someone you weren’t in love with?” At his marked silence, she rethought her answer. “I loved the version of Quentin he built for me—the one that turned out to be false. So, in a way, I suppose I didn’t. Not really. And that makes it easier...until the humiliation sets in.”

“He’s a moron.”

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

He spoke clearly, drawing each word out. “The guy’s a stage-five moron. If someone like that had come sniffing around Allison, I would’ve taken care of him.”

He would have, she realized. A shiver went through her. She blamed it on her wet hair and bathing suit, gathering the lapels of her bathrobe together. “When was your last long-term relationship?”

Rebuke painted his hard features.

She stopped his protest before it began. “These are things couples know about each other.”

A disgruntled, growly noise lifted from his throat. “Six...seven years ago?”

“And how long did it last?”

“Five months.”

“That’s long-term?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He cast off the admission. “What’s your idea of a long-term relationship?”

“A year,” she stated. “Or more.”

“Women tend not to stick around that long,” he revealed.

“Maybe you’re dating the wrong type,” she advised.

“What type should I be fishing for?” he demanded. “You know any trust-fund beauties who wouldn’t mind slumming it with an Arizona cop?”

Laura chose not to answer.

“Before Randolph, did you date anybody else?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. She didn’t want to talk about the other men. But she had probed him about the women in his life. It was only fair.

“Who?”

“Dominic Sinclaire.”

“The diamond guy?”

“Why do you sound so derisive?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Who ended things there?”

“I did,” she said without thinking.

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m sensing a pattern.”

“Should I have stayed with someone with a wandering eye?” she asked.

“The son of a bitch cheated?” he said, voice going low.

“Yes.”

“He cheated. On Laura Colton.”

Exasperated, she repeated, “Yes.”

“What an ass.”

“Charming,” she commented.

“Sounds like he was charmless.”

“Dominic has a great deal of charm,” she explained. “The problem came when he employed it elsewhere. We’re off topic.” She tried to think of another question for him. The ink peeking out from underneath the collar of the jacket drew her gaze. “How many tattoos do you have?”

“I stopped counting.” When her eyes widened, he asked, “Is that too many for you?”

“No,” she said. She’d never known someone with too many tattoos to count. “Which one is your favorite?”

“I don’t have a favorite,” he claimed.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” she told him. “Even Francis Bacon had a favorite painting.”

“Who?”

She redirected the conversation again. “It’s your turn to ask a question.”

“Okay,” he said. “Morning or night?”

She frowned. “Really? You think that’s relevant?”

“It would be,” he weighed, “if we were really into each other.”

“Ask something else,” she demanded.

“Fine,” he consented. “What’s your drink of choice? No, let me guess. White wine spritzer.”

“Martini,” she corrected. “Dry. Yours?”

“A boilermaker.”

“That’s not a real thing,” she assumed.

“Yes, it is. It’s a glass of beer with a shot of whiskey.”

“You can’t have one, then the other?”

“I like to multitask.”

Trying to plumb the depths of this man was more difficult than she had imagined. Noah didn’t have quills. He had a hide like a crocodile.

Wanting to dig deeper, she asked, “What do you do for exercise?”

One corner of his mouth tipped into a grim smile. “I’m a morning guy.”

She fought the urge to strangle him with her terry-cloth belt. “You wanted to do this, too. If you won’t make something of an effort, what’s the point of being here with me?”

The smirk fell away. A breath left him in a tumultuous wash. Shifting on the sofa, he leaned over, planting his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a while. “I’m not used to this.”

“Answering personal questions?” she asked. “That makes sense. You’re the investigator. You ask the questions. Don’t you?”

“No. I mean I don’t really get close...to people,” he told her.

“Weren’t you close to Allison?” she asked.

“We met when we were kids,” he muttered. “She was my sister in all but blood. That may not make sense to you—”

“It does,” she explained. “I have a half sister. Dani. She lives in London. We don’t see each other much anymore. But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s my sister.”

“Your father had an affair.”

So he’d found that corner of the family history. She tried not to bristle. “He had many affairs. He paid off his main mistress. As a result, she gave up custody of Dani. She was mourning the loss of her mother as Adam, Josh and I were, too. The four of us... We were a mess.” The house in LA had felt like a cavern of lost hopes. They had been four sad children, desperate for someone who wasn’t there.

“I’ll try harder,” he said. “For Allison.”

“Me, too,” she promised. She nearly reached for his hand, then stopped, uncertain.

No, if they were going to do this, one of them had to break the intimacy barrier. Her heart flipped as she eyed the denim covering his thigh. She touched it in a gesture of support.

When his eyes swung to hers in surprise, she felt her face warm. A chain wrapped around her navel flashed to life, glowing orange, as if it had been living in hot coals.

He didn’t move, didn’t look away. His tungsten eyes brought to mind electrical storms. The severe line of his mouth didn’t ease as his gaze swept over her. She saw it land on her mouth.

She wasn’t just playing with fire. This was a California brush fire with the wind at its back. Out of control. Destructive.

It would devastate her if she let it.

Her hand shied from his thigh. She gripped the edge of the cushion, wishing she knew what to say next. Wishing she knew what she was doing.

Would helping Allison’s brother burn her to the ground?

He was still watching her. She felt his stare drilling into her profile. His voice was rough when he spoke again. “Do you want to keep going?”

Could she? Closing her eyes, she gathered herself, wishing the flush in her torso would cool. The robe felt stifling suddenly. She flicked the blanket off her legs, planting her feet on the cool tiles of the floor. “Where do you live?” she asked quietly.

“Sedona. I have a house there. And I row.”

“What?”

“It’s how I stay in shape,” he revealed. “Rowing. There’s a park near my house with a small lake. During the winter, I use a rowing machine at home.”

Rowing. It made sense, she thought, judging by the muscles packed underneath his jacket. She tried not to think about muscles bunching along his back and stomach as he worked the oars. The flame inside her kicked up regardless. “Do you like to dine out or in?”

“Eating out is expensive.”

“So you drink your boilermakers at home,” she discerned.

“I’m more of a social drinker, I guess.”

“You don’t really strike me as a social guy,” she admitted.

He made a satisfactory noise. “We are getting to know each other better,” he murmured.

The rumble of his voice was appealing. She shrugged to release the knots of attraction digging in everywhere. “Is there anything else about you I should know?”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I was in the navy.”

Her eyes went to his boots. They were the same ones he’d worn the first night. She’d thought some part of him was military—or militant. “For how long?”

“I enlisted out of high school. I left when I was twenty-three.”

“That’s when you became a cop,” she realized.

“A rhythm guitarist for an Eagles cover band,” he corrected.

She nodded swiftly. “Right.” Stick to the story, Laura. She checked her smartwatch and stood up. “I really must get ready. Please, have a cup of coffee while you wait.”

“So we’re still on for breakfast?” he asked, getting to his feet, too.

“Of course.” A romantic champagne breakfast for two at Annabeth with the entire resort watching. Nerves flared to life. “Give me forty-five minutes to make myself presentable,” she insisted. “Then you can get started on your investigation.”

“What should I call you?” he asked suddenly.

“I told you last night. Laura will be fine.”

“Yeah, but don’t most couples have sentimental names for each other?”

Distracted, she replied, “I believe I can trust you to come up with something.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” she decided. Then she paused. Couldn’t she?

“Are you ready?”

Noah cataloged the faces milling beyond the open restaurant doors. Turning to Laura, he thought again of the way his tongue had practically lolled out of his mouth when she had emerged from her bedroom back at her bungalow perfectly coiffed and dressed to the nines in a black maxidress. This one had a transparent lace collar and sleeves, with a line of ruffles below her clavicle. The skirt was a mix of ruffles and lace. A buff-colored belt tied it together with a hat in the same color. The keyhole in the back of the dress had made his palms itch as much as the cutouts in her bathing suit.

He’d wanted to say something then.

You look stunning.

You’re too fine for the likes of me.

Instead, he’d just stood there with his mouth hanging open like an idiot.

He took a steadying breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Take my hand.”

Cursing inwardly, he snatched her fingers up in his and hoped to God his palms weren’t sweaty.

“There’s Tallulah,” she murmured. “She’s our head of housekeeping and has been with the resort as long as my family has. She lives on property like Adam, Josh and me, and she knows everything there is to know about her staff and the guests.”

“Good to know,” he said, sizing up the woman of average height and weight. When she saw Laura, her face lit up. “Last name?”

“Deschine. And she’s not a mark,” Laura warned under her breath. His steps had picked up pace and she hurried to catch up. “Everyone adores her. I adore her.”

“Everyone’s a mark,” he informed her.

“Tallulah,” Laura greeted her, going straight into the woman’s arms.

Noah relinquished her hand as she hugged Tallulah. The woman placed both hands on Laura’s shoulders and searched her face, speaking quietly. “How are you doing—with everything?”

Laura’s smile dimmed slightly. “I’m okay. Are you?”

“I’m still in shock, I think,” Tallulah murmured. “Poor Bella. She remains out.”

Laura nodded. “Knox has taken some time off, too, but he’s returning full-time today. We need him, but I hope it’s not too soon.”

Tallulah eyed Noah. “Who is this?”

Laura pivoted to him. She took his hand again, fixing that poised grin into place. “Tallulah, this is Noah. My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Tallulah’s focus flitted over the tattoos on his neck and hands, the leather jacket and rustic boots. She shook her head. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone.”

“I’ve been keeping it quiet,” Laura explained. She placed her hand low on Noah’s back. “ We’ve been keeping it quiet.”

“We haven’t had enough time together over the last few months,” Noah said. “Have we, Pearl?”

Laura’s gaze snapped to his. After a beat, she remembered herself. “No. But once Noah heard everything that’s happened, he flew in to be with me.”

“That’s nice,” Tallulah said, a smile warming her mouth. “She needs someone. It’s good to meet you, Noah.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, ma’am,” he returned.

When Tallulah swept away, Laura took a moment to gawk at him.

“What?” he asked. “Have I done something wrong already?”

“No,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “You called her ‘ma’am.’”

“Shouldn’t I have?” he asked.

“You absolutely should,” she agreed. “It was just odd hearing something that polite come out of your mouth.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right. Because I’m uncivilized.”

She sighed at him. “Never mind.”

As they ventured into the restaurant, heads swiveled in their direction. He tried not to squirm under the attention. Up front, he’d known that being Laura Colton’s boyfriend would make people openly curious.

He had been right. The ma?tre d’ took his coat. Noah had put more thought into his appearance, for once. The black T-shirt with the Metallica logo exposed the web of tattoos down both arms. He placed his hand on Laura’s waist as they were led to their table and could practically hear the buzz of speculation surrounding them.

“Thank you,” she murmured when he pulled out her chair, aiming a high-wattage smile over her shoulder.

There was a flirtatious note in those baby blues. When they heated like that, they no longer reminded him of ice floes. They made him think of hot springs, and his body tightened. His hands hardened on the back of the chair. Leaning over her shoulder as she lowered to the seat, he whispered, “Don’t lay it on too thick, Colton. Neanderthal like me might get the wrong idea.”

He saw the tension weave through her posture again. She said nothing as he moved to the chair facing her and dropped to it. Without opening the menu, she told the server, “Billy, may we have the champagne breakfast?”

Billy looked back and forth between them, owl-eyed. “Just for the two of you?”

Laura smiled Noah’s way. “Just us two.”

Noah shook out his napkin. Billy skipped off to the kitchen, no doubt to spread the gossip. “We’re an organized spectacle.”

“You wanted in,” she said, not losing the smile. “Too late to turn back now.”

“You could make a scene,” he pointed out. “Scream at me. Throw something at me. Demand that I sleep with the horses tonight and be on my way in the morning.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe in making a scene.”

He shot off a half laugh. “You enter a room and it’s a scene, regardless of what you say.”

She propped her chin on her hands. “I believe you’re trying to give me a compliment.”

“I’m telling you the truth, Pearl.”

Her nose wrinkled. And even that looked pretty on her. “‘Pearl’?”

“You said I could call you whatever I want.”

“It makes me sound like a member of Golden Girls ,” she complained.

“What’s wrong with Golden Girls ?” he countered.

“Nothing,” she said. “But I am still three months shy of thirty.”

A woman passed their table. She did a double take and skidded to a halt. “Laura?”

Laura beamed. “Alexis! Noah, this is our amazing concierge, Alexis Reed.”

He dipped his head to her. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Reed.”

“And who’re you?” she asked, skimming her gaze over his torso.

“This is Noah Steele,” Laura said. “He’s my...boyfriend.”

Alexis slowly turned her stare on Laura, her shock plain. “Girl, you’ve been holding out on me.”

“Noah’s in a band called Fast Lane,” Laura said. “We’ve been keeping things quiet because he’s been touring.”

Brows arched high, Alexis turned her stare back to Noah. She offered him her hand. “Is this your first time at Mariposa?”

“It is,” he granted, taking her hand in his. He squeezed it lightly.

“How long are you staying for?”

“As long as it takes to make sure Laura’s okay. The last week has been tough on her.”

“I’ll say it has,” Alexis seconded. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to it.” She sent Laura a meaningful look. “You owe me a long talk over white wine.”

“I do,” Laura agreed. “Are there any problems I need to see to this morning?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Alexis answered smoothly. “Enjoy your champagne. I’ll check in later.”

Noah waited until Alexis walked away before speaking. “Fast Lane?”

“It’s an actual band,” she said. “If I’d given her a fake name, nothing would pop up if she googled it.”

“Let’s hope she doesn’t google Fast Lane and Noah Steele together,” he said. “That may blow my cover.”

Laura shook her head. “I hate lying to the people I care about. This is going to be harder than I thought.”

“Relax,” Noah advised. “Once I find out who’s responsible for Allison’s overdose, you can tell everyone the truth.”

Laura didn’t appear to be consoled. Billy came back, setting a bottle of champagne and glasses on the table. He popped the cork, let the champagne breathe as he set a plate before each of them with a fruit medley and a croissant that smelled incredible. Then he poured the champagne into a pair of crystal flutes. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked.

“This is perfect,” she complimented him. “Thank you, Billy.”

As he walked away, Laura sipped her champagne. She lowered the flute, tapping her finger to the side. “I like your arms,” she noted.

He glanced down at his forearms. The spider went up one wrist. Webbing chased it up his forearm. The primary feathers of the falcon on his upper arm peered out from underneath his sleeve. On the other arm, more bones. “Sure you do.”

“I mean it,” she said. “You’re practically a work of art.”

“Well, that was the idea,” he drawled.

“You have to get better at this.”

“At what?” he asked. Eating the croissant with his hands didn’t seem right. Not with a grand piano snoozing nearby and crystal dripping from the ceiling. He picked up his knife and fork and sawed off a corner.

“Letting me be nice to you,” she added.

“Hmm.” The croissant practically melted on his tongue.

Carefully, Laura set the champagne flute down. “We’ve got Adam incoming.”

Noah set his fork down. He lifted the napkin from his lap and wiped his mouth. “How did he take the news?”

“Not well,” she warned. “Please, be good.”

“Really? ‘Be good’?”

She gave him a squelching look before greeting her brother. “Adam. Will you be joining Noah and me for breakfast?”

When Adam only turned a discerning eye on Noah, Noah lifted his hand. “Howdy.”

Adam didn’t respond. Noah noticed that both his hands were balled at his sides. Amused, he asked Laura, “Is he going to call a duel or what?”

She frowned at him. “Noah.”

“Will he accept pistols, or should I borrow someone’s small sword?” Noah continued, undeterred.

“You’re both being stupid. And everyone’s watching.”

Adam glanced around at the interested parties. His fists relaxed. But the sternness refused to leave his face. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course we do,” she said.

“I’m not asking you,” Adam said.

Laura looked at Noah, pleading.

He stood up from the table and stepped into the aisle to face Adam squarely. “I’m here to see that Laura’s okay,” he told Adam, planting a hand on the man’s shoulder. He had the satisfaction of seeing a nerve in Adam’s temple vibrate. “She’s lost a good friend, and she needs someone to lean on.”

“And you’re that person?” Adam asked skeptically.

“You’re damn right I’m that person,” Noah snapped. “The real question is whether her big brother is going to stand in the way of that.”

Adam looked as if he’d rather swallow a handful of broken glass than allow Laura to continue this charade. He measured the hand on his shoulder with its skeletal ink. “All right,” he said, his hard jaw thrown into sharp relief when the words came out through clenched teeth.

Laura stood, too. “I think Noah should stay in a bungalow.”

Adam’s eyes shuttered. “I think that’s asking a bit much.”

“There are a couple of empty ones,” she stated. When he remained unmoved, she tilted her head. “I’ll pay for it, if you’re worried about that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lou. This has nothing to do with money.”

“Then say yes,” she insisted. “The sooner Noah finds the perpetrator, the sooner everything can go back to normal.”

Adam groaned. “He can stay in Bungalow Fifteen. It’s better than him bunking with you at your place, which is where you’d put him if I refused.”

“Thank you,” Laura said. “You won’t regret this.”

Adam waited until she settled back at the table before turning fully to Noah. He leaned in, lowering his voice to a fine edge. “My sister just vouched for you. Don’t let her down.”

“And let you run me through with your princely sword?” Noah ventured. He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Adam shrugged his hand from his shoulder before he walked away.

Amused, Noah sat again. “I think he’s starting to like me.”

Laura gave him a discreet roll of her eyes, reaching for her champagne again. He didn’t miss the way her lips moved around a whispered prayer before she tipped it back.