“You shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble,” she said. “I could have eaten cereal.”
“I wanted to cook for you. Enjoy.”
One small bite of the eggs and bacon was all she could handle. She moved the rest of the food around on the plate waiting for an opportunity to dump it down the garbage disposal, but Finn was watching her as he attached his gun and holster to his belt.
“I checked the weather,” she said. “It’s already seventy-four degrees. Would you like to go swimming?”
“Where?”
“We have several pools on the property, and there’s a lap pool on the roof of the hotel.”
“It’s a real lap pool?”
“Yes,” she said. “It’s under a dome. You’ll be impressed,” she promised.
She could tell he was excited to go. According to Finn’s mother, who told Peyton’s mother, who told . . . well, just about everyone . . . swimming was therapeutic for Finn. One day she wanted to ask him what he thought about in the water. He had once said his mind got rid of all his worries. What did that feel like?
“You’ll have to go with me,” he said. “I’m not going to let you run around the resort alone.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“What about work?”
“My first appointment isn’t until ten.”
“Want to swim with me?”
She shook her head. She held a forkful of eggs so he could see she was eating.
“I’ll get my suit on,” he said. He crossed the living room and called her name when he reached the hallway.
“Yes?” she answered.
“Wait until I go into the bedroom to dump the food.”
She thought she’d been clever pretending to enjoy the breakfast, but he wasn’t fooled. Can’t trick an FBI agent, she surmised, laughing.
Finn had left a mess in the kitchen. She cleaned up while she waited for him. Still hungry, she opened a blueberry yogurt and stood at the island eating it. Finn hadn’t returned yet, so she checked to see that her laptop was in her backpack, added her cell phone, went to the linen closet to grab a towel for him, and continued to wait. He was saying good-bye to someone on his cell when he finally joined her.
The back of the hotel was directly across the parking lot from her condo. Peyton didn’t want to cut through the rear entrance because the corridor connected to the business office, and she thought she’d get waylaid, so they walked around to the front entrance and took the guest elevator up to the roof. Several employees were using the treadmills and ellipticals in the fitness center. She waved to them as she led the way to the pool.
Finn laid his gun, badge, and cell phone on a table next to a padded chair he’d moved for her. She placed her phone next to his, pulled out her laptop and a bottled water and was ready to go to work.
“You need anything?” he asked.
“I’m good,” she answered. “Now go swim.”
He pulled his T-shirt over his head and slipped out of his jeans. As he walked to the edge of the pool she noticed how faded his navy-blue swim trunks were. She didn’t know if the water had been heated, but Finn didn’t complain as he knelt down and splashed water onto his shoulders. He checked the depth, then he stood, made a slick shallow dive, and disappeared. The water barely rippled.
Peyton checked the time. It was 7:10. She looked at her watch again when he emerged from the water and was shocked at how much time had passed. He’d been swimming for over an hour and didn’t look the least bit winded or fatigued. His stamina was impressive.
During that time Danielle had called Finn twice. Peyton knew because she’d turned his phone around to face her and looked. Why was she calling him? He had told Peyton that three years ago he’d almost proposed to her but changed his mind and broke it off. So, why three years later was she calling him?
Handing him a towel, she put the issue of Danielle aside. “Aren’t you tired? You were in the water a long time.”
“It’s invigorating.”
“If you want, we could come back tonight, and you could swim again.”
“Yeah, if there’s time, let’s do that,” he said enthusiastically. “And tonight you can swim with me.” He picked up the towel and wiped water from his face.
Dripping wet he was an Adonis. Beads of water on his shoulders and upper arms made his skin glisten. She didn’t dare look at his chest or his thighs. She’d be lost. Memories of what they had done during the night rushed into her mind. She blocked them as best she could and said, “We should get going.”
An hour later they were walking over to the hotel lobby again. This time Finn’s demeanor was different. He had transformed back into an FBI agent. He was casually dressed in khaki pants and a white long-sleeve shirt with cuffs rolled back and the collar open, but the gun and badge at his waist made him look intimidating.
“Do you have to wear your gun?” she asked. “You’re not on duty here.”
“Until we nab whoever has been shooting holes in your car, I’m wearing it,” he said emphatically. There was no room for discussion. “I may have to leave for a while this morning, and I’ll need to know who you’ll be with. What’s on your schedule?”
“The electricians should be hard at work by now. Lucy and Christopher were going to meet them at seven and give them instructions. The older bungalows need new wiring to keep up with all the latest gadgets,” she told him. “I’ll check on them, and then Lucy and I have a meeting.”
“Who are you meeting?”
“A developer named Scott Cassady. His signs are all over the island.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I saw a couple of them on my way here.”
“He’s gobbled up most of the island, and Uncle Len told us he wants Bishop’s Cove. When Cassady requested a meeting, Lucy thought it would be a good idea to hear what he had to say. Better to know what we’re up against, right?”
“Where are you going to have this meeting?”
“In the lobby. I want it very informal. I don’t want to give the idea that it’s a business meeting. Just one neighbor visiting another,” she said.
Finn opened the door and followed her inside. She stopped short and whispered, “Uh-oh,” when she saw Lucy’s worried expression. Christopher was behind the counter on the phone.
“No electricians,” Lucy announced. “Someone called West Beach Electrical and canceled the order. Christopher’s trying to sort it all out now.”
“Who canceled it? And when?”
“The woman who does the scheduling said I called and canceled a week ago. I didn’t, of course. It’s a big mix-up.” Frustration brimming in her voice, she added, “And a huge setback on time. The electricians are all out on another job and won’t be done for three or four weeks.”
Finn’s phone rang. When he saw that it was the technician who was examining the bullet holes in Peyton’s car, he excused himself and crossed the lobby before he answered. Standing at the front windows, he spotted Debi getting out of her car in the circle drive. Her husband wasn’t with her. She waved to a man who was just pulling into the parking lot, and it was obvious they knew each other.
After a brief word with the technician, Finn slipped the phone back in his pocket and returned to Peyton. “Your car is ready. I’m going to leave for an hour. Stay put until I get back,” he ordered.
She nodded toward Lucy and Christopher, who were beginning to argue about the solution to their latest fiasco. “I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere for a while,” she said, sighing.
Peyton watched Finn leave and had just turned back to the ensuing fight when she heard the sound of spike heels clomping across the marble floor. Oh no, now she was going to have to deal with her brash cousin. She clenched her jaw.
If Debi weren’t such a nuisance, Peyton would have laughed at the sight of her. She looked as though she’d shopped in the preteen department. Her paisley print skirt was too short to be considered decent, and her yellow T-shirt was at least two sizes too small. Debi’s breasts, which looked like two overly inflated volleyballs, strained the thin material to its limit. It was apparent her cousin was mighty proud of her latest acquisitions.
Peyton’s greeting wasn’t polite. “What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t my father call you?”
“Yes, he did. We had a lovely conversation, and I told him you were not going to be part of this undertaking.”
“I’m not leaving,” she snapped. “Lucy, did you talk to my father? He’s been calling you.” Her voice sweetened when she addressed the older sister.
“I spoke to him this morning, and I also told him no. You really should give it up and leave.”
Jutting her hip out and settling her hand on it, she bit her lower lip while she contemplated her next move.
“Okay, look,” she began, her tone conciliatory. “I admit I made a mistake taking the money, but that’s in the past, and I want another chance. I can be a big help . . . or a hindrance,” she threatened. “It’s up to you.”
“Where’s Sean?” Lucy asked.
“My husband flew home to go back to work. We aren’t millionaires, you know.”
At that moment, the front door opened and Scott Cassady entered. Peyton didn’t want Debi there and asked her once again to leave.
“I’m staying,” her cousin muttered.
Peyton walked around her to greet Cassady. It didn’t take any time at all to size up the successful developer. There was such a pretentious air about him. Everything seemed staged, from the sandy blond hair that was perfectly gelled—this guy didn’t sit in a barber’s chair, he had a stylist, she bet—to the meticulous choice in his clothing. He worked really hard to make his appearance look effortless. He wore pressed Levi’s and a pale polo shirt, the collar raised ever so slightly, and his polished leather boots looked brand-new, with nary a scuff mark. The only item missing was a cashmere sweater tied around his shoulders.
“Please, call me Scott,” he insisted, extending his hand and smiling warmly.
Peyton was about to introduce him to Lucy, but Debi blocked her by thrusting her hand out to the developer. “I’m the cousin, Debi Payne,” she said. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m one of the owners of Bishop’s Cove.”
If she thought she could bluff her way in, she was mistaken. “No, she isn’t,” Peyton countered. “In fact, she was just leaving.”
“I believe I’ll stay a little longer,” Debi said with a defiant glare at Peyton.
Peyton ignored her. Turning away from her rude cousin, she introduced her sister and suggested they sit, gesturing toward the two new sofas that had been placed in front of the waterfall. They faced one another with a large square coffee table in between. Lucy and Peyton sat on one sofa, and Cassady took a seat across from them. Once everyone was settled, Debi dropped down next to him.
While Cassady was doing his best to charm the women with small talk, Peyton’s mind went elsewhere, coming up with ways to get rid of Debi. She could think of a couple of swamps where they could dump her but decided that would be cruel punishment for the alligators.
Peyton heard Cassady say her name and realized she hadn’t caught a word he’d said.
“I’m sorry, you were saying?”
Lucy nudged her. “Scott knows all about the deal Uncle Len made with us.” She impatiently brushed her bangs out of her eyes before continuing. “How did you hear about it, Scott?”
Cassady seemed to ponder his answer before replying, “I think it was one of your groundskeepers who told my secretary.”
“How would the groundskeepers know the details?” Lucy asked. “We haven’t shared that information with anyone on the staff except Christopher.”
“Then maybe that’s who told her,” Cassady rushed to answer.
Peyton called out to Christopher who had just hung up the phone. “Christopher, did you tell anyone about our arrangement with our uncle?”
Christopher looked appalled. “Of course not,” he answered. “Lucy asked me not to.”
Peyton turned back to Cassady. “Christopher is a very trustworthy person, and I believe him.” She sat forward and crossed her arms. “Now, would you like to tell us how you really found out about it?”
Cassady shrugged and, with a chuckle, said, “What does it matter? I’m here to talk to you about the future of the resort—your future.”
Peyton was growing more impatient every second. “It matters a great deal. If you want to talk business with us, you’ll tell us where you got your information.”
Debi bolted to her feet. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Enough already. I told him.”
Lucy looked as though she was about to leap over the table and go for Debi’s throat. The red splotches on her cheeks meant she was furious, all right, but then so was Peyton. She just wasn’t as blindsided by their conniving cousin’s behavior as her sister was. Where Debi was concerned, Peyton had learned to expect the worst, and she had never been disappointed.
“I called Scott last week and had dinner with him,” Debi announced. There was no apology in her confession. She turned to Cassady and ordered, “Go ahead, Scott. Tell them what we discussed.”
“You two have taken on quite a challenge,” he began, addressing Lucy and Peyton.
“Three of us,” Debi corrected, including herself.
Lucy had had enough of her cousin’s interference. “My sisters, Peyton and Ivy, and I have taken on this challenge. Christopher, would you mind showing Debi to her car?”
“Gladly,” Christopher answered enthusiastically.
Debi must have known she’d pushed the envelope as far as she could. She got up and stiffly walked across the lobby. “I can see myself out,” she muttered. Christopher rushed forward to open the door for her, but she pushed his hand away. “I’ll be back,” she threatened. “I’m not finished here.”
Christopher sighed. “I know.”
Cassady got down to business outlining his offer. “You have taken on a mammoth project. I can help with that,” he said. “And I can promise you’ll show more than a twenty percent profit at the end of the year. In fact, I’ll guarantee it.”
“How can you guarantee—” Lucy began.
