Deep Cover Detective

Yes. Desperately. She absolutely adored all things blue. Opening her eyes every morning to the sun filtering through that thick glass and reflecting the color on the walls of her bedroom would be like waking up in heaven. But she could never afford it. Still, letting it go wasn’t an option, either. No telling where the vase might end up, and whether its new owner would realize how precious it was or be careful to keep it from harm.

Once again, she’d have to become the temporary caretaker of a priceless piece of art to keep it from falling into someone else’s hands, at least until she could figure out how to return it to its rightful owner—along with several other pieces Eddie had brought to her over the past few months. If he ever suspected what she knew about him, and her ulterior motives for coming back to Mystic Glades, he’d disappear faster than a sandbar in high tide. And then she’d have no way to protect him or help him out of the mess he was making of his life.

“How much?” she asked, careful not to let her disappointment in him show in her voice.

He chewed his bottom lip, clearly debating how much he thought he could get. “Fifty dollars?”

She blinked in genuine surprise. He had no clue what that vase was worth. Add a couple more zeroes to the end of his fifty-dollar price and it would be much closer to the true value.

“Forty-five?” he countered, probably thinking she was shocked because the price he’d asked was too high.

Knowing that he’d expect her to bargain with him, she shook her head and played the game. “I can’t afford that, not with all the expenses of opening the inn. I just spent a small fortune at the Take or Trade to get a shipment of fresh fruit and vegetables for my guests tomorrow.” She eyed the blue vase in his hand again. “Will you take...thirty?”

The rumble of an engine had them both looking up the street to see a black muscle car of some kind heading toward them. Silver didn’t recognize it, so she assumed it was probably a tourist. But even that seemed odd, since most tourists didn’t drive here—they came by airboat, courtesy of Buddy’s new tour company. Almost no one but the residents of Mystic Glades could even find the access road off Alligator Alley.

“Thirty’s fine.” Eddie’s gaze darted between Silver and the approaching car. He tended to be shy and nervous, even around people he knew. So she could understand his trepidation around a stranger. But was there something more to it this time? He seemed more nervous than usual.

“You can pay me later. I’ll put the vase inside.” He jogged to the steps and rushed into the B and B, letting one of the stained-glass double doors slam closed behind him.

Silver winced, half-expecting the glass inset to shatter. When it didn’t, she let out a breath of relief. It had taken her weeks to design and painstakingly put together the glass in those doors. And she didn’t have the money to fix anything until her first paying customers arrived tomorrow.

Or until payment for her other job was deposited into her banking account.

She turned around as the black car pulled into one of the new parking spots she’d had paved just last week—with real asphalt instead of the dirt and gravel that dominated the rest of the town. Just one more thing to set her inn apart, a diamond in a sea of charcoal. Not that she minded charcoal. She’d made many a sketch with paper and charcoal pencil, some of which were hanging on the walls inside. But she wanted her place to sparkle, to be different, special. She’d paid, and was still paying, a hefty price for the inn. She needed everything to be perfect.

As she watched the sporty car, the driver’s door popped open and a cool-drink-of-water of a man stepped out. Silver’s concerns about Eddie faded as she appraised the driver, studying every line, every angle, appreciating every nuance the same way she would any fine piece of art. Because he was definitely a work of art.

Graphite. If she sketched him, that was what she’d use—a graphite pencil across a dazzlingly white sheet of paper. The waves in his shoulder-length, midnight-black hair would look amazing against a bright background. And that stubble that stretched up his deeply tanned jaw? She could capture that with a pointillism technique, then shade it ever so carefully to emphasize his strong bone structure.

Her fingers itched with the desire to slide over his sculpted biceps not covered by his ebony, chest-hugging T-shirt. The curves of those muscles were perfect, gorgeous, the way God meant them to be. And his lips...they were sensual, yet strong, and far too serious. She would want to draw them smiling. Otherwise, the black-and-white sketch would be too severe, intimidating. Yes, definitely smiling.

She tapped her chin and studied the narrowing of his waist where his dark T-shirt hung over his jeans. Did he have one of those sexy V’s where the abdominal muscles tapered past his hips? She’d bet he did. And his thick, muscular thighs filled out his faded jeans as if they’d been tailored—which maybe they had. A man like him, so tall and perfectly proportioned, probably couldn’t buy off-the-rack.

Scuffed brown boots peeked out from the ragged hem of his pants, making her smile. A cowboy in the Glades. That might be a fun way to draw him, maybe with a lasso thrown around that big stuffed gator Buddy had recently put in his store, Swamp Buggy Outfitters, to draw in tourists. She’d have to add a hat, of course. Or she could change those boots to snakeskin and draw him—

“Ma’am? Hello?”

She blinked and focused on his face. He must have been talking to her for a moment, but she hadn’t heard him. No surprise there. Happened all the time. He stood a few feet away, his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets, watching her with a curious expression.

As she fully met his gaze for the first time, something inside her shifted beneath an avalanche of shock and pleasure. His eyes...they were the exact shade of cobalt blue as the vase. They were, quite simply, amazing. Beautiful. Incredibly intriguing. Her fingers twitched against her palms as if she were already grasping a pencil. Or maybe a paintbrush.

His eyes widened, and she realized she still hadn’t said anything. “Sorry, hello,” she said. “I tend to stare at people or things and zone out.”

The almost-grin that curved his sensual lips seemed to be a mix of amusement and confusion—an unfortunate combination of emotions that she was quite used to people feeling around her. When she was a child, it had hurt her feelings. As an adult, she felt like telling people to just grow up and deal with it. So she was different. So what? Everyone was different in one way or another. That was what made the world interesting.

He motioned toward the inn. “Yours?”

“Yep. You looking for a place to stay?”

“What makes you think I’m not a local?”

She laughed. “Not only are you not a local, you’ve never been here before or you’d know that was a silly question. There are only a few hundred residents in Mystic Glades. And there’s not a stranger in the bunch. We all know each other.”

“What about that young man I saw go inside a minute ago? You know him, too?”

Her smile faded. Was this one of the men Eddie was mixed up with? This man, as ruggedly gorgeous as he was—looked like the wrong crowd, dangerous even. She crossed her arms. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “Just testing your theory—that you know everyone. Maybe he’s a tourist like me. Doesn’t matter.” He held out his hand. “I’m Colton Graham. And if you’ve got a room available tonight, I’d appreciate a place to stay.”

She reluctantly shook his hand, not quite ready to trust his claim of being a tourist. “Silver Westbrook.”

Still, if he was a tourist, then his interest in Eddie was probably just harmless curiosity, nothing she really needed to worry about. And that meant that she didn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to enjoy the play of light across the interesting planes of his face. She rarely painted anymore, preferring to sketch with pencil or charcoal, sometimes pen, without all the mess or work involved with setting up her paints and then cleaning up afterward. But the best way to capture him might be with paint, perhaps watercolors.

“Ma’am?”

She blinked. “Sorry. Spaced out again, didn’t I?”

The almost-grin was back. “Yeah, you did. Is something wrong? You seem preoccupied.”

“No, no. Everything’s fine.” She waved her hand impatiently, tired of having to explain her unfortunate quirks to everyone she met.

At his uncertain look she sighed. “I get lost in shapes, textures, colors. I can’t help it.”

“Ah. You’re an artist. I know the type. My sister does that a lot.” He smiled, a full-out grin this time that reached his incredible blue eyes. And completely transformed him, just as she’d thought it would. Smiling, he looked approachable, warm, perfect. She had to put him on canvas. It would be a sin not to. And she wouldn’t use watercolors. They were too muted for this vibrant man. No, acrylics...that was what she’d use to capture every detail in vivid color.

Her gaze dropped to his narrow waist. “Have you ever modeled?” she asked. “I’d love to paint you nude. I would pay a sitting fee, of course. I’m a bit strapped for cash right now, but I could let you stay a night without charge and call it even.”

He made a strangled sound in his throat and coughed. “Um, no, thanks. That’s not really my thing.” He waved toward the inn again. “But I would like to rent a room for the night, if you have a vacancy.”

Swallowing her disappointment, she glanced around, suddenly very much aware of how alone the two of them were and how separated the inn was from the other businesses. The street was deserted, with most of the residents out of town at their day jobs or inside the local businesses. The idea of taking this man, this complete stranger, into her home had her feeling unsettled.

“You don’t have any vacancies, then,” he said, interpreting her silence as a no.

“It’s not that. Actually, the grand opening is tomorrow. I hadn’t really planned on renting out any rooms tonight.”

He waited, quietly watching her.

Why was she hesitating? This wariness was silly. If she was going to run a bed-and-breakfast, she’d have to get used to renting rooms to people she didn’t know. And drop-ins were bound to happen. It certainly wouldn’t be nice to turn him away when she was fully capable of offering him a place for the night. And the extra income was always welcome.

“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.

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.