What’s behind her beautiful mask?

FBI agent Kaden Farrell is on a mission. He’s undercover at Fitzgerald House in Savannah, where a little girl is the key to his investigation. And that’s what he needs to focus on, not a down-and-out heiress whose jeweled eyes haunt his dreams.

Courtney Smythe might be spoiled, but when Kaden notices her ease with the children at the B and B, he sees the beauty beyond her looks. Getting close to Courtney will help his case, and giving in to attraction is the right thing to do. Even if it means perpetuating a lie...

Kaden stared into her eyes and the room shrank.

“Were you the little girl in the story?” His voice was a deep caress, drawing Courtney closer.

“What?”

He swept her hair off her face. “Were you that unhappy girl?”

She didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to move. She wanted him to touch her. “I…I was making up a story for the kids.”

“Right.” He tucked a curl back behind her ear, and a single finger stroked down her cheek. His blue eyes locked on hers as he brushed her lower lip with his thumb. “I’m so sorry.”

Her breath caught in her chest.

Finally, Kaden was going to kiss her…

Dear Reader,

Ever since I started the Fitzgerald House series, I’ve wanted to redeem Courtney Smythe (she sure has been nasty). I wanted to figure out why she hasn’t thrived like her brother, Gray. Of course, her father calling her a “pretty little ornament” hasn’t helped.

When her dad cuts off her money and insists she find a job, Courtney suspects Gray caused her problems. She heads to Savannah, hoping her father will cool off. But Gray won’t let her sponge off him. Courtney works for the B and B. And fails. Tries to get the attention of the hot handyman. And fails. When she becomes a nanny to the kids living at the B and B, she finally finds her calling.

As a child, Kaden Farrell’s grandfather saved him from his drug-dealing parents. So when his grandfather breaks his hip working at Fitzgerald House, Kaden rushes to his side. At the B and B, his FBI drug-task-force job and his grandfather’s health intersect. The dealer he’s been chasing dropped her daughter off with the kid’s father, who lives at the B and B. Kaden, pretending to be a handyman, cozies up to the girl’s beautiful nanny. Even though Kaden’s not sure he even likes Courtney, sparks between them fly.

I love hearing from readers. Contact me at www.nandixon.com and sign up for my newsletter, or visit me on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/nandixonauthor. If you’d like to see the pictures that inspire me, check out www.Pinterest.com/nandixonauthor.

Enjoy Savannah!

Nan Dixon

Undercover with the Heiress

Nan Dixon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

NAN DIXON spent her formative years as an actress, singer, dancer and golfer. But the need to eat had her studying accounting in college. Unfortunately, being a successful financial executive didn’t feed her passion to perform. When the company she worked for was purchased, Nan got the chance of a lifetime—the opportunity to pursue a writing career. She’s a five-time Golden Heart® Award finalist and award-winning author, lives in the Midwest and is active in her local RWA chapter and the board of a dance company. She has five children, three sons-in-law, two granddaughters, a new grandson and one neurotic cat.

Books by Nan Dixon

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Fitzgerald House

Southern Comforts

A Savannah Christmas Wish

Through a Magnolia Filter

The Other Twin

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To Mom and Dad always.

To my fabulous family. Thank you for your love and support. I’m dedicating this one to the women: Meghan, Allison and Anne. I couldn’t be prouder.

I must thank my Harlequin team: Megan Long, Victoria Curran, Piya Campana, Deirdre McCluskey and the wonderful group who bring my books to my readers. And of course, my marvelous agent, Laura Bradford.

My critique group challenges me to dig deeper. Thank you Ann Hinnenkamp, Leanne Farella, Neroli Lacey and Kathryn Kohorst. And my Golden Heart® sisters keep me sane—Dreamweavers, Lucky 13s, Starcatchers and the Unsinkables. And my writing community—MFW, you’re the best.

Of course I can’t forget the group that started it all: my sisters. Mo, Sue and Trish.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

May

“HOW MANY BODIES?” Kaden ducked under the yellow police tape and climbed the rotting porch steps.

“Three.” The photographer pointed at the man by his feet. “One here. Two inside.”

Kaden flashed his credentials at the uniform guarding the door. Plywood covered the cabin’s windows. The siding might have been white once. Now it peeled off termite-infested wood. Cement blocks propped up a corner of the wraparound porch. The place would probably blow over in the next tropical storm to hit the coast of Georgia.

Local deputies, DEA and FBI sifted through the crime scene. He took a deep breath and gagged on the stench. Covering his mouth with his sleeve, he headed inside.

Plastic bags lay scattered on the floor. Drug residue covered tables lining a wall. An empty garbage can was tipped on its side. Apparently, the dealers had left in a hurry. If they were lucky, they might find prints.

The medical examiner knelt next to a second body.

Six-one or six-two. Male. Caucasian. Must run 220.

“Hey, O’Malley.” Kaden stared at the dried blood on the floor. “Do you have a cause of death?”

“GSW. All three bodies.” The medical examiner glanced up. “How are you, Farrell?”

“Frustrated we can’t shut this ring down.”

The FBI had been chasing Heather Bole and Thaddeus Magnussen for months trying to stem the flow of drugs coming through Georgia and Florida.

He nodded at the vic’s bloated face. “At least Magnussen’s no longer terrorizing the streets. Don’t suppose we got lucky and Heather Bole is here somewhere?”

“Not here. We’ll check the blood type and see if there’s more than our victims.” She shifted. “Need to show you something.”

O’Malley rolled the body onto his side, using her head to point. “Check out the streaks under the body.”

“Is that blood?” Kaden backed up to get the full picture. “It looks like something was dragged out from under him as he bled out. Did he fall on something?”

She shrugged. “Maybe a someone. We found this beneath the body.”

She held up an evidence bag. It contained a bloodstained sneaker. Pink. Small. No laces. Fluff filled the shoe’s ratty Velcro.

“Damn it. A kid was here.” He swallowed.

“Yeah.” O’Malley waved over her assistant. “This one’s ready for the lab.”

Kaden unclenched his teeth. A kid. A little girl by the look of the shoe. He would check the file, but he thought Heather had a daughter who was young. Three? Four? The task force had gotten that intel but hadn’t been able to get the kid to safety.

His granddad had rescued him. Now, getting children away from their criminal, drug dealing parents was his life’s mission. He would save the kid and put Heather Bole behind bars.

July

“ANOTHER DEAD END.” Kaden slammed down the conference room phone in the Atlanta FBI office. “Two months and every time someone spots Heather Bole, she vanishes.”

The partial print at the triple-murder site had a 75 percent chance of being Bole’s. It was enough to bring her in for questioning. If they found her.

“We’re hearing rumors Bole has partnered with Hector Salvez.” His boss rubbed his short dark hair. “Hector’s a hothead. That might make Heather easier to find.”

Roger leaned back in his chair and it let out a loud screech.

The noise crawled down Kaden’s spine. “Not soon enough.”

“Is this about the daughter? Are you worried she’s in danger?” Roger asked.

“Kids shouldn’t grow up in that environment.” Kaden rolled his neck and the vertebrae clicked.

Saving kids from the drug life was why he’d joined the FBI, why he was on the task force. If he could rid this part of the world of drugs and dealers, he’d be content. “Heather is moving...a lot. Could be Magnussen’s brother is seeking revenge.”

“Maybe.” Roger’s chair squealed again. “Maybe they’ll all kill each other and make our lives easier.”

“DEA has a witness that swears Bole had her kid with her before the shootings.” Kaden tugged on his tie. “She and Rasmussen ran together for five years. Now what’s Bole up to?”

“Taking over?” Roger held up the picture of the blood streaks. “If Heather shot him, it was pretty damn cold to shoot her partner with her kid in the room.”

“Five years ago she was a two-bit dealer in Atlanta. Then she moved to rural Georgia and started cooking meth.” Kaden tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash. “Breaking Bad has made people think cookin’ is easy money.”

Roger shook his head. “We’ll catch her eventually.”

Kaden nodded. But this case involved a kid. For weeks he’d worked the streets, talking to as many of Heather’s associates as possible. The other task force members had worked their own connections. Nada. Unless Bole was traveling on a fake ID, she had to be in the area.

Or she’d been dumped at sea. Always a possibility on the coast. He wasn’t worried about Heather, but the kid, Isabella, didn’t deserve this.

Roger tapped the table. “I need updates on your other cases.”

Kaden nodded and they discussed his active cases.

As they were wrapping up, Kaden’s cell rang. He peered at the unknown number.

“Go ahead,” Roger said.

“Kaden Farrell,” he answered.

“Hi, Kaden. This is Abby Fitzgerald. Your grandfather works for my family’s B and B.”

His heart gave a loud thump. “Is everything all right?”

“Nigel fell off a ladder. We’re at Memorial Health Center in Savannah.”

“Is he all right?” He clenched his phone. His grandfather was his only family.

“He’s getting X-rays right now.” Her soft drawl did nothing to soothe the panic racing through his chest. “They suspect he broke his hip.”

Crap. Broken hip? “I’ll be right down. What hospital again?”

She repeated the name while he scribbled.

“He didn’t lose consciousness,” she said. “But I thought you would want to know.”

“Thank you. I’m leaving right now.” He hung up and filled in Roger.

“Go.” Roger waved him away. “I’ll let you know if we hear anything new.”

Kaden rushed to his apartment. He grabbed his go bag, threw in his laptop and Dopp kit, and headed out of Atlanta.

Traffic on I-75 was bumper-to-bumper. Even the left-hand lane, void of trucks, barely moved at the speed limit. He longed to go hot and let the sirens get him to his grandfather.

Nigel had saved him. Pulled him away from his useless parents and shown him he could have a normal life. A life that didn’t require moving all the time and keeping an eye out for cops or DEA agents.

The miles crawled by. He merged onto I-16, hoping traffic would ease. No luck. Container trucks filled the right-hand lane, heading to the port of Savannah. He hit the radio and tuned into CNN, then the BBC, trying to knock out the voices in his head that were warning him he might lose his last family member. Even deep breaths didn’t ease the tightness in his chest.

Clutching the steering wheel, he exited on the 516. A broken hip at his grandfather’s age could be deadly. When he got to Waters Avenue and then Lexington, he exhaled. Finally.

He scouted the full ER parking deck. His fingers drummed the steering wheel. On the second pass, a car backed out and he grabbed the spot.

Dashing to the ER receptionist desk, he said, “I’m looking for Nigel Ganders.”

The young man searched. “He was just admitted.”

Kaden followed the directions to the correct floor, stopping at the nursing station to verify his grandfather’s room number. His heart pounded as he pushed open the door. And found a roomful of strangers.

“Kaden?” Granddad waved a finger at the three redheaded women in the room. “Who called my grandson for something this piddling?”

“I did.” One of the women shook her finger back in Granddad’s face. “He’s your emergency contact. Of course I called him.”

Granddad stared at Kaden. Then he touched his heart.

Tears threatened to spill from Kaden’s eyes. It had always been their signal. When Kaden had been playing basketball or giving a speech, it had been that small gesture that let him know Granddad loved and was proud of him.

The woman with a ponytail walked over, holding out her hand. “Hi, I’m Abby Fitzgerald. I called.”

“Nice to meet you.” Kaden’s response was automatic, but he stared at his grandfather. Nigel’s gray eyes were bright and his posture straight. His full head of white hair was as tidy as if he was heading to church instead of lying injured in a hospital bed.

Granddad made introductions. The other two women were also Fitzgeralds; Bess, long hair, and Dolley, short curly hair. He’d heard enough about the sisters from his granddad that Kaden said, “I almost feel like I know you.”

“Good. You’ll be staying in Savannah, right?” Abby asked.

“Yes.” No question. Kaden would be here for his grandfather.

“Wonderful.” Abby stepped out of his way, letting him move next to the bed. “You’ll be our guest at Fitzgerald House. No charge.”

Dolley grinned at him. “I’ve put a hold on a Carleton House room.”

“That’s not necessary.” Kaden looked at Granddad.

His grandfather shrugged. “No use protesting. They always get their way.”

“He’s right.” Abby smiled and patted Kaden’s arm. “At the B and B, you’re closer to the hospital than at Nigel’s house out on Tybee Island.”

“Umm, sure.” Kaden would have slept at the hospital.

“Good. Just head over when you’re ready. Here’s the address.” Dolley handed him a business card and then frowned. “I don’t think Nigel’s ever said what you do up in Atlanta.”

He hesitated. “I followed in my grandfather’s footsteps.”

“Construction?” Bess asked.

“Yes,” he lied. Few people knew he worked for the FBI and fewer knew about the drug task force. It was necessary to keep everyone and their families safe.

After exchanging phone numbers, Abby kissed Granddad’s cheek. “I’m heading back to Fitzgerald House. Call if you need anything.”

Dolley and Bess also kissed his granddad. “You take care of yourself,” Bess whispered loud enough for Kaden to hear.

Women loved his granddad. But not as much as Kaden did.

Once they were alone, his grandfather complained, “You didn’t need to drive down from Atlanta.”

“Of course I did.” Kaden wrapped his arms around Granddad’s shoulders. His Green Irish Tweed aftershave cut through the bite of hospital bleach burning his nose. He gulped deep breaths to capture the sandalwood scent. “What did the doctors say?”

“I fractured my hip.”

“How?” Kaden took the chair, but reached for his hand.

“Painting.” He grimaced, his thick white eyebrows forming a line. “I just wanted that last little bit and stretched too far.”

“You know better than that.” Kaden squeezed his hand. “You weren’t hopping the ladder along the outside of the wall like you did the first year I lived with you, were you?”

“I gave that up twenty years ago.” Granddad closed his eyes. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m here for you.” Kaden’s heart pounded a little harder as lines of pain etched his grandfather’s face. “Did they schedule your surgery yet?”

“They’re working on it.” His grandfather gave him his infamous no-nonsense look. “I don’t want to pull you away from your job.”

His work was important, but some days it felt like he was holding up an umbrella to battle a tsunami. Drugs flooded the southeast states and innocents were getting hurt.

“I’m not leaving you alone to deal with this.” Nigel had saved him. “I’m right where I belong.”

* * *

“‘RIKKI-TIKKI HAD A right to be proud of himself—but he did not grow too proud, and he kept the garden as a mongoose should keep it, with tooth and jump and spring and bite, till never a cobra dared show its head inside the walls.’” Courtney closed the book and smiled at the circle of children at her feet.

“Read another,” Jamison called in his strong Southie accent. “With more bad cobras!”

“I can’t.” Courtney shook her head. “Our time is up.”

Actually, she’d run over the library’s reading hour. But she’d wanted to finish The Jungle Book story. “I’ll see you next week.”

As she pushed up from her small chair, Jamison wrapped his arms around her knees. “Thank you, Miss Courtney.”

“You’re welcome.” She hugged the little boy. “Thank you for paying attention.”

Two months ago, Jamison hadn’t been able to sit still for more than five minutes. Now he sat for the entire story hour. She nodded as his mother took his hand. He’d learned she wouldn’t read if he was talking or running around.

Grandmothers, sitters and older siblings gathered up the rest of the children.

“Your reading group keeps growing.” Marlene, the librarian who organized the volunteers, took the book from Courtney.

“It’s fun.” And her little secret. No one knew about her weekly visits to this Southside Boston library.

Even though the book’s language had been formal, the kids had been great. How wonderful it would be to put together words to ignite the imaginations of children. Of course, today’s books couldn’t be as lyrical as Kipling’s writings, but oh, to be able to read something that she wrote to children. How amazing.

Not that it would happen. On her drive home, she rubbed the wrinkles in her forehead. Being her parents’ pretty little ornament took most of her day. To maintain her image, it took hours of shopping, salons and working out.

As she approached the gates of the family mansion, a dark shape darted from the bushes. She jerked the steering wheel. Metal scraped stone. She slammed on her brakes and her body jammed against her seat belt. “No!”

She threw the convertible into Park, jumped out and rounded the hood. Had she hit whatever had run in front of the car? She peered under the car, but didn’t find an injured animal.

Damn. Her front bumper was toast. Not again. Father would go ballistic.

She glared. They needed to expand the front gate. This was the third time she’d turned a teeny bit too tight and wrecked her pretty car.

Driving to the portico, she stomped up the entry stairs. Marcus had the door open before she hit the top step.

“Did you have a nice afternoon of shopping?” He took the bags from her.

She always said she was going shopping, which she did. It just wasn’t the entire truth. Her parents wouldn’t see the value of her spending time in a South Boston library.

She shook her head, curls whipping across her face. “I bumped the gate.”

One white eyebrow shot up. “Again?”

“An animal jumped out from the bushes.”

“Oh, Miss. Did you hit it?”

“No.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Could you...?”

“I’ll call the repair shop.” He tipped his head. “Your father would like to speak with you.”

She frowned, then forced her face to relax. She didn’t want a permanent furrow between her eyebrows, but it was hard. Nothing was right in her world. It had been off-kilter for months. “Where is he?”

“In his study.” Marcus headed up the left stairway with her packages.

Courtney’s heels clicked on the black-and-white foyer tiles. She longed to kick off her shoes, but she wasn’t sure what Father wanted. Had she done anything that might have irritated him lately? Last month it had been how late she was coming home, as if that mattered now that she was twenty-six. The month before he’d lectured her for a half hour about gossiping at the dinner table. And in February it had been the way she treated her new sister-in-law.

I can’t help that I’m not my perfect brother.

Outside Father’s study, she straightened her shoulders and smoothed the skirt of the red Versace sheath she’d worn to lunch with Gwen. Her eyes didn’t pop as much when she wore red. Now she wished she’d bought the dress in green, too.

She’d buy the green dress tomorrow. Better yet, she’d have them deliver it to the house.

Staring into the hallway mirror, she forced a smile onto her face and arranged her black curls so they cascaded over one shoulder. She was her father’s princess, even though he hadn’t called her that in years. The blasted furrow formed between her eyebrows again. She pressed on the hideous lines and took a deep breath. Opening the door, she glided into the room.

Father didn’t look up. He pointed to a guest chair and kept typing.

She stood next to the chair. Her dress looked so much better when she stood. She examined her manicure and waited.

Still not looking up, her father ordered, “Sit.”

Courtney gritted her teeth, but obeyed, moving around the chair. She slipped into her seat just as she’d been taught in the finishing classes she’d been forced to attend during high school.

Instead of crossing her ankles, she rebelled against the voice in her head and crossed her legs. By crossing her legs, she could admire the red soles of her Louboutin heels. They were a perfect match with her dress. She sat with her back ruler-straight, remembering the way the instructor had made her balance a book on her head.

Wasn’t she her father’s perfect daughter, dressed to the height of fashion? She folded her hands in her lap, but what she really wanted to do was thread her fingers through her pearl necklace. It had been a gift for her sixteenth birthday from her father, but Mother had probably signed his name to the card.

She could wait him out. She didn’t have anything else to do.

He looked up. Inhaled and exhaled. Twice.

Uh-oh. What had she done? He couldn’t already know about her car. She chewed her thumbnail, then quickly dropped her hand to her lap and twisted her fingers together.

His gray eyes narrowed and he held up an envelope. “Do you know what this is?”

Was he kidding? “An envelope?”

“Your credit card bill.”

She nodded, feeling her eyebrows coming together again. “Okay.”

“No. Not okay.” He pulled out the wad of paper. “Five thousand dollars at a shoe store?”

Shoes? She tapped her lip with her fingernail, longing to chew on it again, but she wasn’t fifteen anymore. “There was a sale.”

“So you spent five thousand dollars?” He spread out the pages, facing her. “We talked about this two months ago.”

“About what?” Whoops. She’d forgotten about that lecture. Paying bills wasn’t her responsibility. It was her father’s.

“About wasting money. About your shopping excesses.” He pushed back a black curl that slipped across his forehead.

She’d inherited her father’s hair, but she hoped never to see the white that peppered his. He might look distinguished, but women had to hide any sign of aging.

“It was an incredible sale.” She pointed to her shoes. “No one else I know owns this pair.” Or most of the shoes she’d picked up that day.

His face turned red. “Because they aren’t spendthrifts.”

“You always tell me to look my best.” It was all he’d ever expected.

“You have a mountain of clothes.” He pointed at the bill. “Two mountains of clothes based on the money you’ve spent. You’re done.”

“Done?” What was he talking about?

“I want your credit cards.”

“What for?” She couldn’t catch her breath.

“As of today, the endless spending stops.”

“But...”

He held out his hand and she dug into her Furla wallet. He stared at each card as she handed it to him. Pulling out scissors, he said, “Cut them up.”

“But what will I do?” If she couldn’t charge meals, drinks or clothes, what else was there?

“Get a job. Make your own money.” Her father threw up his hands. “Marry one of those worthless boys you hang around with and spend their money.”

He’d never been this angry. Ever. She swallowed and took the scissors and the first card. She cut it in half. Then half again. And kept going. The handle of the scissors imprinted on the base of her thumb. It hurt, but she couldn’t complain while her father glared at her.

“You now have a five-hundred-dollar credit limit on this card.” He held it out. “I expect that to be used for gas and parking to get you to job interviews.”

This couldn’t be happening. She leaned over the divide of his desk, touching his hand. Then she smiled, the smile that used to get her father’s attention. “Daddy, just last week you told me you liked the way I dressed.”

“Because that’s all you’re good at doing. Looking pretty.” He spit the words out and flipped her hand away.

She waved at her dress and shoes. “It costs money to look like this. Ask Mother.”

“You should have enough clothes to do that for years to come.” He stood, leaning on his fists. “I mean it. It’s time you got a job.”

Her spine slumped against the back of the chair. The imaginary book balancing on her head tumbled to the floor. The furrow between her eyebrows dug deep. “A job?”

“A job.”

Her heart hammered in her chest. “I guess I could be a—a personal shopper.”

He scowled. “You’re a Smythe. I expect you to get a worthwhile job.”

“Of course, Daddy.” With her spine as straight as a ruler, she left the room.

Worthwhile job? She swallowed back tears. She was qualified to do...absolutely nothing.

* * *

COURTNEY SHOVED THE throw pillows covering her bed to the floor.

How could she get a job? Her father hadn’t let her go to the college of her choice. She’d been accepted at Yale, Gray and Father’s alma mater. But dear old dad had forced her to attend Mount Holyoke, her mother’s college.

Daddy saved all his pride for Gray. Her brother had been on the dean’s list his entire college career. The first semester of her freshman year, she’d worked hard and made the dean’s list, too, hoping her father would relent and she could transfer. But he hadn’t been impressed. It wasn’t Yale, right? In rebellion, she’d gotten an English degree with an emphasis in Renaissance literature, and hadn’t paid attention to her grades. She’d gotten to read and that was fun. Would someone pay her to recite Shakespeare soliloquies?

She flopped to the center of her canopy bed, not caring that her shoes were on her white comforter.

A job.

She’d had one job during high school. When her aunt and uncle had gone to Europe for a month, she’d taken care of her two young cousins. Their cook had still been in residence, but she’d been responsible for the children. How would Nanny look on a résumé? Two consecutive summers of working for a few weeks should wow a perspective employer.

U won’t believe what happened, she texted Gwen.

No reply. Right, Gwen was getting a facial.

She touched her cheek. How would she pay for next week’s facial?

She’d talk to Mother. Her mother would calm Father down. She couldn’t live on five hundred dollars a month. Who did that to their only daughter?

Courtney hadn’t even known there was such a thing as a credit limit. She rubbed her forehead. Although last January, Laura had complained she had to watch her spending. Courtney and Gwen had quietly stopped hanging around with her. Since she and Gwen didn’t invite Laura anywhere, her entire posse excluded her.

She sat up with a jerk. Would that happen to her? Gwen’s text ringtone, “My Best Friend,” sounded. What happened?

She couldn’t tell Gwen. She tapped her nail against her lower lip. I hit the driveway pillar again.

Again?

Yes She should be adding tears.

Club 2nite?

Her heart pounded. What was she going to do? Can’t. Family dinner.

K. 2morrow?

I’ll let you know. She would avoid everyone until this crisis had passed. Mother would fix everything.

She stripped off her sheath and stepped into her closet to hang it with the rest of her red dresses. This was her haven, her beautiful clothes. Her armor.

She placed her heels in their spot next to the rest of the pairs that had caused this firestorm. She stroked her gorgeous new Manolo Blahnik boots. Okay, they hadn’t been on sale. Actually none of the shoes had been on sale, but it seemed like a reasonable excuse when she’d blurted it out.

Her fingers tapped her bare thigh. What could she wear that would make her look fragile and innocent? She twirled in a slow circle. Audrey Hepburn. White sleeveless blouse. Skinny black capris and black ballerina flats. She’d pull her hair up. Emphasize her eyes. She wasn’t as thin as the actress, but she was willowy. Who could punish Audrey Hepburn?

Maybe she should take up acting. She’d done that all her life.

Her hand shook a little as she added eyeliner and more mascara. Then she pulled her mass of black curls into a French twist.

She checked her appearance one more time before slipping on her shoes. The look worked.

Straightening her shoulders so an imaginary book lay flat on her head, she forced her feet into the glide. It was her term for the walk she’d learned in her finishing classes. Like a ballerina, she floated down the hallway to her mother’s sitting area.

Her mother worked at her desk, the tip of her Montblanc pen tapping her lip.

“Mother?”

“Courtney, what do you think about a fire-and-ice theme for the ballet foundation’s benefit?” Mother asked.

“In August?”

Mother nodded, her blond hair swaying.

When Courtney was a child she’d wanted her mother’s straight blond hair instead of her father’s curly black hair. Now she didn’t know what she wanted. Her life no longer fit. “I don’t think fire-and-ice will work. I assume you would want ice sculptures and since you’re using the terraces, melting would be a problem.”

“I agree with you. But Dorothy loves it.” Mother set down her pen. “Maybe you want to join the committee and give us fresh ideas?”

Would it get her out of finding a job? “Maybe.”

Mother finally looked up. “That outfit looks good on you. Is it new?”

“The pants.” And shoes. Part of the infamous shoe purchases. She stroked the ballerina sculpture that graced her mother’s desk. “Have you talked to Father?”

“This morning.” She eased back in her chair. “Why?”

“He’s upset.” She moved to the coffee table and picked up the book her mother was reading. Some thriller. Not her style.

“About?”

“The shoes I bought last month.” She pointed to her feet. “But these are adorable.”

Mother stood. “He’s upset about a pair of shoes? That’s strange.”

“I bought more than one pair.” She turned, the words rushing out. “I showed you everything the day I bought them. You didn’t complain.”

Her blue eyes narrowed. “Did he put you on a budget?”

“Budget? He made me cut up my credit cards.” She ran and took her mother’s hands. “You have to help me. He said I have to find a job.”

“A job?” Mother shook her head. “He’s been listening to Gray.”

“Can you help? I—I can’t work.” She didn’t know how. “All my friends will abandon me. How will I hold my head up? Without credit cards I’ll be stuck in the house.”

“I’ll talk to him at dinner. We’ll work this out.” Mother wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go down and pour him his Jameson. Lord knows why he developed a taste for it. It’s Gray’s wife’s fault. But maybe it will mellow him out.”

Was it the darn Fitzgeralds putting this stupid job notion in her father’s head? It would be just like his brother’s wife and her sisters to be envious of her life and whisper things to Gray. What did men see in them, anyway? Gray had given up a relationship with her best friend, Gwen, for the woman he’d married last February. Courtney had suffered through being a part of the wedding party. She and Gwen had envisioned a totally different wedding. Classy. It wasn’t fair.

Courtney followed her mother to the library. Just inhaling had the tension in her shoulders easing. Two stories of books soothed her. Heading to the small bar, she added ice to a tumbler and poured Jameson from a Waterford decanter. She’d always liked watching Mother prepare Father’s before-dinner drink. Once she’d turned ten, serving her father’s drink had become Courtney’s job, but he’d never noticed.

“What would you like?” Courtney asked.

“Wine, please. Marcus should have decanted a shiraz.”

The correct stemware was set on a salver. She poured two glasses to the perfect center of the bell, then moved to her mother’s chair and handed her the wine.

Courtney swirled her glass, tipped and watched the legs. Then inhaled. Taking a small sip, she let the wine linger in her mouth. Chocolate. Peppers. She frowned. “Are you catching blackberry?”

Her mother repeated the wine tasting steps. “I am. You have a great palate.”

Maybe Courtney could become a sommelier. Select wine for her friends as they dined. She shuddered. That was not going to happen. Mother needed to fix this.

Father entered the room, swiped the tumbler off the bar and brought it over to the sitting area. “Thank you, Olivia. It’s been a long day.”

“Thank your daughter. She prepared it for you.”

He nodded, not even looking at Courtney.

She started to open her mouth.

Mother shook her head.

Biding her time wasn’t her strength, but Mother had married the man. She should know how to get him to do her bidding.

“How was your day?” Mother asked Father.

“Market tanked. One of the companies I was looking at acquiring found an angel to finance them.” He took a deep swallow of his whiskey. His glance shot over to Courtney. “The only good thing that happened was Gray cleared inspections on his Back Bay project. They should get the certificate of occupancy soon.”

Her brother scored another success. Rah. Family dinners always made her feel invisible. Gray was the only child her father ever talked about. Gray this, Gray that. Gray. Gray. Boring Gray. Why couldn’t her father recognize that she added color to the Smythe family?

Courtney asked, “Is he back in Boston?”

“No. He’s bidding on property near Savannah.” Father set his glass on the silver coaster on the coffee table. “He’s adding a Savannah office, too. Not just working out of Boston.”

And the perfection that was Gray continued. She slipped deeper into her chair, wanting to blend into the fabric.

Marcus entered. “May I serve dinner?”

Mother looked to Father, who nodded.

“Would you like another drink?” Courtney asked him.

He thrust the glass at her. She plucked ice cubes from the bucket and splashed another shot in the tumbler.

Father took the glass, then headed to the dining room.

Mother whispered to him. Please let her make a dent in his stubbornness.

Father sank into the head chair. Mother sat to his right and Courtney to his left. If Gray was here, he would have this seat. She’d be forced farther down the table. Who said there wasn’t still a hierarchy, like in the Regency romance novels she loved to read?

She was nothing.

They pulled cloches off their plates. Her stomach twisted. How could she eat dinner without a solution to the chaos her life had become?

“Can I ask why you took Courtney’s credit cards away?” Mother asked.

Thank goodness. Courtney cut a small piece of lamb chop. Mother would fix this.

Father pointed his loaded fork at Courtney. “I’m done supporting her shopping habit. It’s time she get a job.”

“You never asked her to work before.” Mother didn’t look at her. “Why now?”

“In the first six months of this year, your dear daughter has spent a hundred thousand dollars on travel, clothes, shoes and parties. Families live on that.” He slammed down his silverware. “She needs to discover what it’s like to earn a living.”

The lamb she’d swallowed formed a lump in her throat. Coughing, she grabbed her wine and swallowed. “I’ll—I’ll do better. Put me on a budget. Please, Daddy.”

“If you don’t want to work, then have one of those boys who fawn around your skirts marry you and take on your useless habits.”

Useless. Tears burned her eyes.

“That’s uncalled for,” Mother hissed. Her head snapped back and forth. She was probably worried the servants would overhear the argument.

“I’ve had it.” He emptied his whiskey and pointed at Courtney. “Gray is right. You need to stand on your own feet.”

Of course. Mr. Perfect. He’d caused this mess.

If Gray had been the impetus, then he should be the solution. In a soft voice she asked, “Gray is opening an office in Savannah?”

“Yes.” Father sighed.

“Maybe he’ll have a job for me.” She’d pretend to go to Savannah for work. At least until her father calmed down.

Her father’s gray eyes held hers for almost too long. “You plan on becoming a carpenter?”

She blinked. “He’ll need help decorating or answering phones or...” What else did people do in offices?

He snorted. “Good luck.”

“Why, thank you, Daddy.” Did she hit the last word too hard?

She could head to Savannah for a week or two. Time to escape Boston and take a vacation. “Will you up my credit card limit so I can drive to Gray’s and not have to sleep in my car?”

“Of course he will.” Mother glared at her husband.

Good. Mother could make this problem go away. Courtney would take a road trip.

CHAPTER TWO

“ARE YOU SURE this is all you need?” Kaden arranged a picture of the grandmother he’d never met on his grandfather’s nursing home dresser.

“I just want my own PJs, robe, clothes and a picture of my wife,” Nigel sighed. “But I’d rather be home.”

“Not yet.” Kaden’s chest tightened. He’d just checked his granddad into a highly-rated, long-term rehabilitation center. Even though his grandfather had come through the surgery like a champ, he needed care and physical therapy. Now to get Granddad to accept that he needed to stay here. “How does that look?”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “This darn hip made me miss Bess and Daniel’s wedding. The Fitzgeralds throw the best parties.”

They’d talked about this thirty minutes ago. Granddad’s pain meds messed with his memory. Kaden said, “There will be other weddings.”

“I’d like to see my grandson married.”

“Not on the horizon.” Kaden avoided his grandfather’s eyes. “Bureau keeps me too busy.”

“I can’t have you hovering by my bedside for weeks.” Nigel shook his head. “Head back to Atlanta.”

“We’ve had this conversation.” Kaden patted his shoulder. Bones protruded that hadn’t been there before. “I’m taking a well-earned vacation.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’ll go crazy sitting around.”

“I picked up something to while away the hours between your torture sessions.” Kaden dug in the bag, grinning. “I mean your physical therapy sessions.”

He set a chessboard on a rolling table. Aligning the pieces, he took a white and black pawn and mixed them behind his back. He held out his closed hands. “Your choice.”

Granddad tapped one. White.

“You open.” Kaden set down the pawns. “How many hours do you think we’ve played chess?”

“At first you couldn’t sit for more than fifteen minutes. What a squirmy seven-year-old you were.” His grandfather advanced his pawn. “But hundreds of hours, I guess. Maybe thousands?”

Kaden answered by advancing his own pawn and the game was on. The only sound was the felt of the pieces on the cardboard and the muffled echoes of voices in the hallway.

“When you were young, you never looked ahead more than one move.” Granddad moved his knight, threatening Kaden’s bishop.

Kaden could sacrifice the piece for his longer strategy. He moved his queen.

A big smile broke over his grandfather’s face. He pointed a long elegant finger at Kaden’s side of the board. “You’re getting trickier.”

“I learned from the best.” Kaden swallowed back emotions bubbling up into his throat. He’d learned everything from this man. His grandfather had shown him how to live with honor. He’d never learned that from his worthless parents. “Why did my mother turn out so...bad?”

Granddad sank into the pillows, pushing back his thick white hair. “You’ve never asked me that question.”

“Because I was so relieved to be saved from that...life.” Kaden got out of the chair and walked to the window that overlooked a small garden. “I was afraid you would send me back to them.”

“Never.” Granddad’s voice was low. “When your grandmother died, I was...lost. Your mother was thirteen. She needed me and I wasn’t there.”

“She knew right from wrong. She knew drugs were bad.”

“I should have helped her.” His grandfather inhaled. “I didn’t push through my grief. By the time she was eighteen and pregnant with you, she wouldn’t listen to anything I said.”

“But you tried.” He remembered that much. Whenever Granddad called, his mother would throw the phone, or pots, or whatever was at hand.

“Too late. If I’d done more, maybe Kaleb would still be alive. I should have saved both of you.” Sadness filled his grandfather’s intense blue eyes. Eyes that had barely faded over the years.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kaden choked out. He was responsible for his brother’s death, not Nigel.

“You were seven.” Granddad shook his head. “Thank God your mother called me, even though all she wanted was bail. At least I rescued you from that Florida hovel.”

“You made me the man I am today.” Kaden would have said more, but his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Checking the caller ID, he said, “It’s my boss.”

“Go ahead.” Granddad closed his eyes, looking twenty years older. “I need to rest.”

Kaden’s heart took another hit. Walking to the opposite corner of the room, he answered, “Farrell.”

“Heather Bole’s kid was dropped off in Savannah.” Roger’s words were clipped.

“She’s here?” He clenched the phone. “In Savannah?”

“She was. Back in May.” Papers shifted on Roger’s side of the conversation. “The father is filing for full custody and wants to find Bole. He contacted the Savannah police a couple of weeks ago.”

“Is this guy involved with one of the gangs?”

“Nothing we can find,” Roger said. “The detective said this Forester guy was suspected of dealing in high school, but either he’s kept a low profile or he’s out of the life. Savannah cop thinks he’s clean, but I’d rather you make your own assessment.”

Kaden straightened. “This might be the break we need.”

“I know you’re helping your grandfather, but could you talk to the dad? I want the interview to come from my team. From you.”

And Kaden knew why. Roger’s ex-wife ran the FBI office in Savannah, Roger the Atlanta office. The Bureau was hard on marriages. Kaden had never had any problems with Margaret, Roger’s ex, but Roger carried a grudge.

He glanced at his sleeping grandfather. He could take an hour to talk to this man. “Sure.”

Roger rattled off the Savannah detective’s contact information. Kaden moved into the hall. When the man answered, he explained why he was calling.

“The father’s name is Nathan Forester.” Detective Gillespie gave Kaden a quick recap and Forester’s phone number.

Kaden peeked into his grandfather’s room, but he hadn’t moved. One more call.

“Forester,” the man answered. A saw squealed in the background.

Kaden introduced himself. “I’d like to talk to you about Heather Bole.”

“Do you know where she is?” The background noise faded.

“No. But we’re looking for her, too. I’d like to ask you a few questions. When would be convenient?”

They set up a time to meet and Forester gave him an address. “I’m in the carriage house in the back. Second floor. If you have trouble finding the apartment, just call or text.”

After hanging up, Kaden stared at the address. Why was it so familiar?

He searched the location and jerked when it came up. Couldn’t be. He was heading to Fitzgerald House.

* * *

“COURTNEY?” GRAY BLOCKED the doorway, not letting her inside. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprise!” Courtney faked a smile. “I’m here to visit you.”

“What?” Gray crossed his arms. “You never wanted to before.”

Why wasn’t he inviting her into his house? She forced a smile. “I’m here now.”

“Here? Staying at Fitzgerald House?” Gray’s words were as much a barricade as his body.

“I was hoping I could stay with you. With my family.” Courtney didn’t want to beg.

He hesitated, finally pulling her into a hug. His shirt was unbuttoned and his hair was damp. “No one told me you were coming to Savannah.”

“That’s why it’s called a surprise.” She poked him in the belly. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I was in Boston two weeks ago.” Gray frowned. “You were too busy to have dinner with me.”

“I’m making up for it now.” She went for perky, but her voice wobbled.

What if Gray wouldn’t let her stay in his carriage house? Last night, she’d splurged on a nice Charleston hotel. She wouldn’t have enough money on her credit card to pay for another hotel. Being short of money sucked.

“You want to stay here?” Cynicism filled his voice. “With Abby and I?”

“I want to spend time with you.” She wrapped an arm around her brother’s waist, hoping she didn’t sound desperate. She hated the panic that had crept into her voice over the last few days. “I thought it would be...fun.”

“Here? You want to stay here?” Gray stepped out of the doorway and led her inside—finally.

Abby, his wife, came down the central stairs, also looking like she’d just hopped out of the shower. Her strawberry-blond hair was wet and pulled back in a high ponytail. Did she not know that style was so nineties? Her green eyes glowed. “Courtney?”

Oh. Oh. She swallowed. Gray and Abby had been...oh.

Courtney hurried over and gave her sister-in-law air kisses. “Hi, Abby.”

Gray crossed his arms. “She’s here for a surprise visit.”

“That’s wonderful.” Abby gave her a hug. “It’s been months since you were in Savannah. Let me get our guest room ready.”

Abby headed down the main floor hallway.

Courtney tipped her head at her brother. “At least your wife is more welcoming than my own brother.”

“What do you want?” Gray asked.

“To visit.” She wouldn’t let terror fill her voice.

“Why?” He stared like he could peer into her brain and dig out her reason.

“Boston got...boring.” She wasn’t discussing her problems. Gray would be sanctimonious about her issues with Father. Holding out her keys, she asked, “Could you get my luggage?”

His blue gaze locked on hers.

She knew better than to look away. Instead, she smiled.

Gray snapped up the keys and headed to the door.

Okay, maybe her relationship with her brother hadn’t been exactly cordial since he’d broken up with Gwen. And maybe her bringing Gwen to Savannah and trying to get them back together hadn’t been well thought-out. But he was her brother.

Gray had gotten her into this mess. She shook back her hair and headed to the great room, sliding into a comfy leather chair. She would hide in Savannah until Father reinstated her cash flow.

Her call with Mother last night hadn’t given her any new hope. Courtney spun her gold bracelet around her wrist. She liked the way it made her hand look so petite.

How much could she sell it for?

“Little help here?” Gray called from the doorway.

She waited for Abby to come out of the guest bedroom. Nothing.

“Courtney, grab your bags,” he grumbled.

She pushed off the sofa. “You need a Marcus.”

“No, we don’t. Get used to it. And there’s no maids to make beds or clean the house.” He shoved her makeup case into her hands. “You have luggage for a month. What’s going on?”

“I—I didn’t know what kind of weather to expect.”

“It’s summer in Savannah.” Gray drew together his black eyebrows. “Hot and hotter.”

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.” She felt her own ridges forming on her forehead. Shoot.

While Gray went back to her car, she grabbed a suitcase and tugged it to the bedroom.

Abby smoothed out a pale yellow comforter. Better Abby than her. The Fitzgerald family had been making beds and running their B and B most of their lives.

“This is nice.” Gray and Abby’s home had that old carriage-house feel with aged wood floors and beams, but the guestroom was light and bright. Unlike in the bed-and-breakfast, antiques wouldn’t surround her here. “It doesn’t feel two hundred years old.”

Abby fluffed the green and pink throw pillows. “As much as I love Fitzgerald House, I wanted something different in my home.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.” Courtney needed Abby on her side if she was going to hide out in Savannah. “I probably should have called, but it sounded like fun to surprise Gray.”

“Well, you’re here now.” Abby straightened. “We’ll eat dinner in the main house around seven. You can tidy up or rest until then. I have to prep for the wine tasting.”

Gray pulled two more suitcases into the bedroom. Abby’s eyes flared open and she stared at Courtney for a long moment. With a shake of her head, Abby brushed a kiss on Gray’s cheek. “I’ll see you at Fitzgerald House.”

“Thank you, big brother.” God, she needed Gray and Abby to stop looking at her like she had two heads. “I’d better call Mother. The drive down here was fun, but you know how she worries.” She kept her voice super cheery. “Any message you want to pass on to Mother or Father?”

“Just say hello.” Gray followed his wife out the door.

Excellent. Maybe Gray wouldn’t talk to the parental units for a couple of days. She needed time for this problem to blow over.

Mother answered.

“I’m in Savannah.” Courtney settled back against the pillows on the bed. “Gray and Abby say hello.”

“I’m so relieved. That was a long drive by yourself.”

“It was...fun.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been alone for three days. If she’d had full access to money, it might have been even better. Unfortunately, each time she used her credit card she’d worried she’d run out of credit. Who could live that way? Mother had tucked cash in her purse, but Courtney might need that later. “Have you softened Daddy up?”

“I’m trying, honey. But he’s intractable.” Her mother sighed. “Maybe by taking a job with Gray, it’ll show your father that you’re changing.”

“Sure. Right.” Her chest ached. Was she losing her mother’s support? “Please keep working on him.”

“I will, dear.”

They talked for a few minutes, but Courtney’s brain wasn’t functioning. Mother had to succeed. She didn’t want to stay in Savannah. She wanted to go home.

* * *

KADEN PARKED BEHIND the B and B. Two carriage houses existed on the combined property. One was under construction, while the other looked like a home.

He found Forester’s number in his call log and texted him. I’m in the Fitzgerald House parking lot, where should we meet?

The reply came back: Coming down.

Kaden leaned against a shed near the parking lot, giving him a view of the entire courtyard. It stretched a full block from Fitzgerald to Carleton House. When the sisters had added the second mansion to the B and B, Granddad had been mighty proud.

After Nigel had turned sixty, he’d sold his construction business. Then he’d gotten bored with retirement. Now he worked as handyman and sometimes chauffeur for the sisters. Maybe after he recovered, he should actually retire.

A door on the second floor of the nearest carriage house banged open and a small boy dashed out.

The kid ran down the stairs, his shoelaces flapping. He could take a header and crack his skull open.

Kaden’s heart rate picked up and he hurried to the steps. Could he catch the kid if he fell?

“Josh!” a deep voice called from the top of the steps. “Slow down.”

“Miss Abby’s saving a treat for me,” the kid yelled.

“You won’t be eating anything if we end up at the ER.” A man came down the steps with a little girl on his shoulders.

When the boy was safely on the stone walkway, Kaden released the breath he’d been holding.

The man hadn’t noticed him yet. But the girl stared holes in him. She had fluffy blond hair. Heather’s kid? She looked younger than he thought a four-year-old should be, but what did he know?

When the man and child reached the bottom of the steps, Kaden stepped closer. “Forester?”

“Agent Farrell?”

Kaden nodded. He glanced around. Luckily, the courtyard was empty. “Just Kaden, please.”

Forester swung the little girl off his shoulders. “Issy, go join Josh in the kitchen.”

Issy. Short for Isabella. Heather’s kid.

The little girl bit her lip, staring at Kaden.

Did she guess she wasn’t safe around him? Somehow kids saw right through him. He forced a smile. She backed closer to her dad and clung to his leg.

“Hang on. Let me take Issy inside.” Forester pointed to the door the boy had run through.

Kaden moved to a small ironwork table next to a fountain. If guests tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, the splashing water would muffle their voices.

Forester didn’t take long. He returned and held out a hand. “I’m Nathan.”

Kaden had reviewed Nathan Forester’s profile. He was part owner in a family construction company. That explained the sound of the saw in the background when Kaden had called this afternoon.

Nathan took a seat and stretched out his legs. He didn’t say anything, just waited. The guy’s eyes were clear. He didn’t look like he was a user, but the smartest dealers didn’t use their own product.

Kaden opened his phone to a picture of Bole. “Do you know this woman?”

“It’s Heather. Heather Bole. I met her when I worked in Atlanta. We dated about five years ago. Not for long. Then she took off with some guy.” He glanced over at the kitchen door. “Just before summer, she walked into my work site and dropped off Issy. Isabella. Said she’s my daughter. Which I didn’t doubt for a minute.”

“This was May?” Kaden leaned forward. The timing fit.

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t know about your daughter before?” Kaden asked.

“Her mother never told me.” Nathan ran his fingers through his hair, his lips forming a straight line. “After Heather dropped her off, Issy barely spoke.”

Didn’t speak? “Did Heather say where she was heading?”

“She said she’d gotten a DUI and was ordered into treatment, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.”

“Was Heather with anyone?” Kaden pulled up a picture of Hector Salvez. “Maybe this guy?”

“There wasn’t anyone with her or in the truck when I chased her down the street.” He closed his eyes. “What mother doesn’t tell the father of her child about their daughter and then dumps her with a birth certificate and barely any clothes?”

Kaden’s nostrils flared. One just like his own mother. “Did she say where she’d been? What she’d been doing?”

“No.” Nathan opened his phone and scrolled to a photo, tipping it so Kaden could see the screen. “Issy keeps drawing this picture. Do you know anything about that?”

The paper had stick figures on it. A small yellow-haired person was squashed under a bigger stick figure with black hair and a beard. Red slashes covered the bigger stick figure.

Kaden swore. “She was there. Poor kid.”

“You know what this is? Where this is?” Nathan’s fists pressed against the table.

“Border of Georgia and Florida,” Kaden said. “It’s a drug house. There was a shooting. Three dead.”

Nathan pushed away from the table and paced to the fountain and back. Leaning his fists on the table, he growled, “And Issy was there? In a house filled with drugs and guns?”

Kaden took in the fire in the man’s eyes. The tension in his body.

“Based on the blood smears, we suspect someone about the size of your daughter was at the scene.”

“Oh, God.” Nathan collapsed into the chair, clasping at his neck. “I... Could you talk to her therapist? Maybe this new information will help. I want Issy to feel safe. Be safe.”

“Sure.” Kaden wasn’t sure what more he could tell a therapist, but Nathan was suffering. He was so upset it made him think the guy was clean. “Do you have any idea where Heather might be?”

“I’ve racked my brain for months, trying to recall everything she ever said.” Nathan blew out a big breath. “I think she grew up in Alabama.”

“Mobile.”

“If Heather’s involved in drugs I will never let her touch Issy again. I want full custody.”

“I understand.” Kaden stared the man in the eye. “But you have a track record with drugs and dealing, don’t you?”

“In high school, small-time. I was a screwup.” Nathan gripped the table. “But I’m not anymore. Haven’t been for a decade. Run me.”

“Already did. We haven’t found anything to indicate you’re still involved.”

Forester backed off, his shoulders easing. “You won’t find anything. I have a daughter. My fiancée has a son. I’m not screwing up anything with her or the kids. They’re everything to me.”

Kaden was starting to like the guy. He handed him a business card. “If you hear from Heather, let me know.”

“I will.”

The kitchen door creaked open and Abby walked over to the table. “Nathan, we’re ready to eat.”

“Are we done?” Nathan asked him.

“Yes.”

“Kaden?” Abby asked. “I didn’t know you and Nathan knew each other.”

“Hi, Abby.” Kaden stood. “We just met.”

Nathan’s eyebrows shot up. Then he gave a short nod.

“Is Nigel settled at the rehab center?” she asked.

“Yes.” Kaden grimaced. “He already wants to go home.”

She patted his shoulder. “He’s right where he needs to be.”

Nathan stood, too. “You know Nigel?”

“He’s my grandfather.” Pride filled Kaden’s voice.

“Wonderful man,” Nathan said. “Sorry he fell.”

“Thanks.”

“Kaden?” Abby asked. “Have you had dinner?”

He didn’t remember having lunch. “No.”

“Then join us,” Abby said.

“I...” Kaden couldn’t think of the last time he’d sat down to a meal that hadn’t been with his granddad or other agents. Usually he ate takeout or a nuked dinner alone. “That would be nice.”

“I’ll hold dinner for you then.” Abby pointed at a door. “Come into the kitchen when you’re ready.”

Once Abby left, Kaden touched Nathan’s arm. “I need to keep the fact that I’m with the FBI between us. I’m only in Savannah because of my grandfather.”

Nathan raised his eyebrows. “Are you undercover?”

“My...cover is on a need-to-know basis.” Like all task force members.

“Sure.” Nathan nodded.

“Thanks,” Kaden said.

It wasn’t only the task force policy of secrecy. His job was on the line. Roger had fired a loose-lipped co-worker two months ago.

And if Roger’s ex-wife got wind he was talking to people in her jurisdiction, it would add fuel to their personal war. He’d hate to be caught in their crossfire. Secrecy was the best policy.

* * *

COURTNEY KICKED A suitcase out of the way. She missed having maids to clean and iron her clothes. Sure, she packed and unpacked her own bag when traveling, but for this trip, she’d taken more clothes than normal. Help would be nice.

If she complained, Gray would roll his eyes. Why had she painted herself in this corner? She needed her brother’s help, but Gray was suspicious of everything she did.

If she could hide for a week or two, Father would calm down. Mother promised. But waiting meant getting through tonight’s dinner and being around Gray and the love of his life. Gag much?

Her brother tapped on the door. “You ready to walk over for dinner?”

She pushed off the bed. “I guess.”

He peered at her luggage spread through the room. “You didn’t unpack.”

“I...freshened up after the drive.” She brushed a curl off her cheek. She’d been reading and lost track of time. “I’ll work on it tonight.”

“How long are you staying?” he asked as they headed into the courtyard.

She clenched her hands into fists so she didn’t gnaw on her thumbnail. “A couple of weeks?”

“Weeks? Did your clique dethrone you as queen?” He slapped a hand on his chest. “How will they know who to snub and what club is hot? How will they decide what party to attend without your...wisdom?”

She shivered. Gwen would take over. Her friend would love that. “You don’t have a high opinion of my life.”

“Nope.” He was so...blunt.

They passed a stone sculpture of the three Fitzgerald sisters set into a crumbling wall surrounded by flowers. “I suppose you think I should be more like the Fitzgeralds. Setting my hooks into men who can finance their B and B.”

Gray grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. “What?”

“Ouch.” She tugged and he released her. “Abby set her hooks in you and you bought her a mansion. Bess just married a contractor. You don’t think she has to pay full cost for the work they do at the B and B, do you? And what about Dolley? She made a play for that photographer. Now her photos are published.”

“How can you think that? The Fitzgeralds are the hardest-working family I know,” Gray spat out. “I admire what they’ve done. You should emulate, not scorn, them. None of the trust-fund babies you run with could survive what they’ve survived.”

“But—but Abby married you and you bought her all this.” She waved her arms around the B and B.

“Because I love her.” Gray raised his hands. “I want to help her make her dreams come true. But she’s the one with the ideas and work ethic.”

“But...” The Fitzgeralds couldn’t be so...so virtuous.

“I’ll warn you once.” Gray’s blue gaze froze her in place. “If you’re nasty or mean to Abby, or her sisters, or their husbands or fiancés, hell, to any B and B staff, you’re gone.”

Her stomach flopped. Gone? Where could she go? She couldn’t afford anything. “You’d choose them over me? Your own sister?”

“Absolutely.” He crossed his arms, his face as hard as the driveway pillars at home. “Are we clear?”

“Yes.” Her voice shook. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t her life go back to normal? “But...”

“No. No buts.” He exhaled. “Sometimes I wish we’d grown up poor. Then maybe you would have used the brain I know you have.”

He was as relentless as a boxer in the ring, but she wouldn’t let him see how much he’d hurt her. She’d had plenty of practice with their father. “I’m glad we aren’t poor.”

He set his hand on her back and directed her toward Fitzgerald House. “I want you to do something with your life.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you went to Yale.” Bitterness bled through her words.

“Your education was good.” He squeezed her shoulders. “There had to be a reason you chose literature as your major.”

“I love literature.” In addition, she could run her sorority without worrying she would fail a course. Would sorority president look good on a résumé?

“I endured English classes,” he said. “Too much reading.”

“That was the best part of my degree program.” She loved escaping into someone else’s life. It was more fun than her own. Changing the subject, she asked, “Do you always eat at the B and B?”

Gray shrugged. “On the nights Abby runs the wine tastings.”

“But there are all those...strangers at the B and B.”

“You mean like when you eat in a restaurant?”

“Oh.”

Courtney followed him through the garden’s winding paths. Lush green plants cascaded over rocks. Palm trees of all sizes shadowed beds filled with red, yellow and pink flowers. She barely recognized any of the plants. She was as out of place here as a palm tree would be on the banks of the Charles.

She wanted to go home. Wanted to have someone else deal with money and cars and let her deal with managing her friends.

Gray held the screen door. The scents as they walked into the large kitchen were amazing. Lemon, basil, licorice? And fish.

Gray hurried to his wife like he hadn’t seen her in weeks. A mob of people filled the room.

She straightened. She’d thought it would only be Abby, Gray and herself. Instead, Abby’s family was here. The three sisters were connected at the hips. Now it wouldn’t be a quick meal. She’d have to chat with people who thought she was a bitch.

She shook back her curls. What did it matter? She’d be back in Boston and away from here soon enough.

Dolley, the youngest sister, said something and Liam, the documentary maker she’d latched on to, laughed along with the rest of the adults. Everyone but her.

What would it be like to laugh freely and not care if the laugh lines became permanently engraved on your face?

They were talking about Bess and Daniel’s honeymoon. Courtney hesitated next to the kitchen sitting area.

The boy who’d been in Abby’s wedding sat next to a little girl. What was his name? “Jason?”

He looked up from scribbling in a sketch book. “I’m Joshua. Josh.”

“Hi, Joshua Josh.” She sat across from the kids. “What are you coloring?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m drawing.”

She could see ears and the body of a dog forming under the pencil strokes. “Is that your dog?”

“It’s Carly, my uncle’s dog. But Papa says we get a dog as soon as our house is ready.”

“You’re very talented.” She looked over at the tiny blond-haired girl. “What are you working on?”

She held up a coloring book.

“Issy doesn’t talk much. ’Cuz of stuff,” Josh said. “She always colors princesses.”

“I see that.” Pink exploded over the page. “Very pretty.”

Issy pointed to the page she wasn’t coloring.

“You want me to color with you?” Courtney asked.

Issy’s brown eyes brightened.

“Thank you.” She knelt on the opposite side of the coffee table and picked a purple crayon from the pack. “Do you know your colors?”

The little girl nodded.

Courtney held up the crayon in her hand.

“Purple,” the little girl sang.

“Right.” Two princesses were on the page. “Which dress should be purple?”

Issy tapped one.

As they worked, Courtney asked her to name the colors each time she changed crayons.

A blond woman came to the sitting area. “Hi, Courtney, can I get you something to drink?”

Courtney looked up. Everyone in the kitchen had wine or beer. “Umm, a glass of wine? Whatever everyone is drinking.”

“We’re having prosecco.” The woman smiled. “I’m Cheryl.”

“Cheryl. Thanks.” She pushed the crayons back to Issy.

Gray would expect her to socialize with the adults, people who despised her. She’d rather play with the kids, but she stood. “Thanks for letting me color.”

The kitchen door opened again. This time it was a stranger. The man’s dark brown hair was short. She’d never been enamored with the clipped look, but it made his steel-blue eyes stand out.

She arranged her hair so it draped over her shoulder.

“Am I in the right place?” the stranger asked.

“You are. Kaden, come in.” Abby took his hand and pulled him into the center of the kitchen. “I was afraid you’d changed your mind about dinner.”

The hottie shook his head. “No, just my clothes.”

He wasn’t dressed in jeans or shorts like the other men. He wore nice Dockers and a polo. Not the best quality, but not the worst, either.

Cheryl handed Courtney her prosecco. Turning to the stranger—Kaden—Cheryl asked, “How is Nigel doing?”

Nigel. The name rang a bell. Was that the old guy who worked for the B and B?

“Complaining he wants to go home.”

“Oh, dear.” Cheryl bit her lip. “He can’t. He needs physical therapy, right?”

Kaden nodded.

Courtney wished she’d worn one of the sundresses still packed in her bags, but her white top and coral capri pants were dressier than any other woman’s outfit in the room. She moved toward the cluster of people standing near the table, swaying her hips a little.

“Hi, Courtney.” Dolley nodded in her direction, no smile on her face.

“Courtney,” Bess said. “I didn’t know you were here.”

The two Fitzgerald sisters looked at her, waiting for an explanation. Courtney wouldn’t let her teeth grind. “I surprised Gray.”

“Oh.” Bess shoved her long red ponytail over her shoulder. Didn’t the Fitzgeralds realize men preferred women’s hair to be cascading around their breasts? It fueled their imaginations.

Liam wrapped his arm around Dolley’s waist. One of the twin brothers set a hand on Bess’s shoulder.

“Daniel, you remember Gray’s sister?” Bess asked.

He nodded, drinking his beer.

“Good to see you again, Daniel,” Courtney lied. Twin One identified.

Everyone stared at her. Were they waiting for her to speak? Or was it her clothes? Could she help it if she was beautiful? Sure, the Fitzgerald women had their...charm. But she’d been taught to highlight her assets.

“People, meet Kaden.” Abby introduced him to everyone, even Cheryl—an employee—and Nathan, Twin Two, who was apparently engaged to Cheryl and father of Issy.

When Abby introduced her, Courtney set her hand in Kaden’s, letting her fingers linger. “Lovely to meet you.”

His eyebrows arched a fraction. “Nice to meet you.”

Oh, my. Her belly did a lovely slow roll. He was a good-looking man.

Kaden turned and said something to Daniel.

She let her hand slip to her side. Her breath hitched on a bubble of panic. Men didn’t turn away from her.

Everyone talked in groups, excluding her. They talked in shorthand. She couldn’t keep up. Courtney rolled her shoulders. Who cared? These people weren’t part of her world.

“Let’s eat,” Abby said.

Cheryl and Abby laughed and talked as they brought platters and bowls to the table. Everyone was part of a conversation. Everyone but her. Even Kaden slipped into the flow.

She waited until someone told her where to sit, then glided into the chair next to Josh. Since she sat directly across from Kaden, maybe she could figure out why he hadn’t flirted with her.

She waited through grace, then passed dishes, asking Josh, “Can I serve you?”

He nodded and pointed to a large piece of fish on the platter. “I caught a big fish on the Fourth of July.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. A red fish. My mom cooked it.” He added quinoa salad to his plate and passed the bowl to her. “It was the biggest fish of the day.”

“That must have been fun,” she said. “I’ve never fished before.”

His brown eyes went big and his mouth dropped open. “Mr. Gray, why hasn’t your sister ever fished?”

Gray glanced over. “My sister doesn’t fish.”

“That’s just wrong,” Josh insisted.

Gray winked at him. “She might mess up her hair or clothes.”

Everyone laughed. At her.

Heat spread across Courtney’s face. “Father never took me fishing,” she explained.

There’d been so many boundaries in her life. Fishing was something only Gray and dear old Dad had done. It was not one of the restrictions she’d wanted to breach.

“I can teach you.” The kid looked from under his long blond eyelashes up at Daniel. “If we can take Uncle Daniel’s boat out.”

“Josh,” Cheryl admonished.

“I guess we could fish from shore somewhere.” The boy shot an innocent look at Courtney. “Do you wanna go tomorrow?”

This time she laughed with everyone. “I don’t think so.”

She joked with Josh and ate a fabulous dinner because, of course, her brother had married someone who was not only a businesswoman, but also an incredible chef. What sister wouldn’t be miffed that her sister-in-law overshadowed her in everything? Except beauty.

She glanced across the table. Kaden wasn’t even trying to attract her attention. Her stomach churned around the small bites of food she’d been able to swallow. She couldn’t take his indifference any longer. “Did you grow up in Savannah?”

Kaden looked up from his plate. “What?”

“Did you grow up here?”

“I spent most of my childhood down on Tybee.”

Josh leaned over the table. “I bet you fished down there.”

“My grandfather and I fished.” A smile broke across Kaden’s face, a dimple appearing on his cheek. My, my. He was handsome. “We’d take his boat into the intercoastal waters.”

“I don’t know what that is, but can you take me fishing?” Josh asked Kaden.

“As much fun as that sounds, I’m here to take care of my grandfather.”

“What happened to Nigel?” Courtney could almost pull up an image of a dapper older man with thick white hair.

Kaden’s smile slipped away. “He broke his hip.”

“Oh.” That didn’t sound good. “Is he okay?”

“He came through surgery well.” Kaden shook his head. “Now he needs physical therapy and time to heal.”

She nodded, not really understanding what healing from a broken hip entailed. “How is he handling being hospitalized?”

“He’s not in the hospital anymore. He’s in a rehabilitation center.”

“Oh.” She was so out of her depth.

“I like Nigel.” Josh bounced a little in his chair. “He let me help paint the walls.”

“Yeah. He’s a good guy.” Kaden’s face softened.

“I know Nigel told us you live in Atlanta, but what do you do there?” Gray asked.

Kaden blinked. “I followed his example.”

“Construction?” Gray waved his hand around the table. “We’ll have to talk.”

“So how long are you staying?” Dolley called down the table.

Courtney waited for Kaden to answer.

“Courtney?” Dolley asked.

“Oh, me?” She shook her head. “I’m not sure. A couple of weeks?”

“You’re not sure? Oh, right. You don’t have a job to go back to,” Dolley said snippily.

“No, I don’t. I miss my brother. I saw him a lot more when he lived in Boston.” Courtney hoped she sounded convincing. “If the mountain won’t come to Mohammad...”

The three Fitzgerald sisters’ reddish-blond eyebrows went up at the same time. Dolley said under her breath, “Well, bless your heart.”

“We’re glad you’re here,” Abby choked out, glancing at Dolley.

“Thank you.” She knew what Dolley meant. The bitch. They didn’t want her here. Well, news flash, she didn’t want to be here, either.

Everyone returned to their conversations, excluding her again. She didn’t care about remodeling or houses or Abby’s restaurant. Even Josh focused on Kaden and fishing.

Would dinner never end? Please, Mother; I want to come home. Convince Father to let me out of purgatory.

CHAPTER THREE

COURTNEY’S FLASHING BLUE eyes haunted Kaden as he headed up the Carleton House stairs to his room. She was a beautiful woman, but she knew it. Her moves were choreographed down to each flip of her hair. Was there anything interesting behind her stunning jewel-like eyes?

Kaden tugged off his shirt and threw it into the closet, then patted his full stomach. He couldn’t remember eating a better meal. No wonder his granddad raved about Abby’s cooking and hospitality. The Fitzgeralds were great. They’d invited him, a stranger, to a family dinner.

The sisters and their partners had all visited his granddad. Every day someone brought him food, flowers or company.

How did Courtney fit in? It was obvious she and Gray were related, but she had that uppity Boston accent he’d heard only when training at Quantico.

He slid open his phone and called Roger, updating him on his conversation with Nathan.

“So Forester hasn’t seen Bole since she left her kid two months ago?” Roger asked. “That’s hard to believe.”

“I believe it. The woman let her daughter come to a gun battle.”

“But two months without seeing her kid.” Roger rattled the ice in his glass, probably bourbon at this time of night.

“We never thought she was a devoted mother.” Kaden pulled a water bottle from the fridge in his suite.

“What if you stayed near the B and B? Heather has to come back sometime. If you’re there, you could grab her.”

“I’m here for my granddad.”

“I thought he was doing well,” Roger said.

“He is, but broken hips are dangerous.”

“I’ve met your grandfather. He doesn’t act like a seventy-five-year-old.”

“He stills needs to heal.” Kaden opened the French doors and stood on the balcony, staring down at the courtyard. The scent of flowers and growing plants filled the humid night. If he could smell the ocean, he’d be home.

“You have plenty of vacation available, but both you and Heather’s kid are staying at the B and B.” Roger exhaled. “Maybe you can do both.”

“What about Margaret?” Kaden asked.

“This is our case. My ex doesn’t need to know you’re there until we make an arrest.”

Kaden took a deep breath. It was their case. He wanted to keep Issy safe. Not by being her bodyguard, but by locking up her mother. “You know I don’t...work well with kids.”

Silence filled the line. “Losing the Malcolm twins wasn’t your fault. It was a kidnapping.”

Kaden closed his eyes, but it didn’t stop the bloody crime scene photos of the little boys from filling his head. If he’d made the money drop sooner, linked the gardener faster, maybe the twins would still be alive. “I don’t want to be responsible for a child’s life.”

“Then think about this assignment as finding the mother. It’s Bole we want.”

Bole. Did his need to get her off the street outweigh his fear that children got hurt under his watch?

“This keeps you on the team,” Roger said.

He gripped the railing. “Is that a threat?”

“I need all the man power I can muster to clear drugs off the street.” Roger didn’t expand on his threat.

Kaden punched the pillar. He was not getting booted from the task force. No way.

“I’ll talk to my grandfather.”

* * *

COURTNEY TOOK ANOTHER SIP, but her prosecco had gone flat. “Mother, you have to get Father to relent.”

“Courtney, he just discovered your car was repaired before you left for Savannah.”

“It’s those stupid gates.” She headed deeper into the garden. “Can’t you suggest he have them moved farther apart?”

“No one else has trouble with the gates.” Her mother’s voice was more stern than normal.

Courtney scuffed her toes along the stone walk. “That doesn’t mean they’re not a problem. But this time I swerved for an animal.”

“Courtney.” There was a scolding tone in her mother’s voice.

“It’s the truth. An animal jumped out and I swerved.”

“Of course.” Her mother sighed. “I think you should stick with your plan and work for your brother. Your father isn’t budging.”

“Tell Daddy I’m sorry about the car. I’ll watch for animals and be more careful turning the corner.” But she wasn’t going to commit to working for her brother. By escaping to Savannah, she was buying herself time. That was it. “I’ll call tomorrow. Please work on Daddy.”

“It’s best if I let the issue rest. Besides, he’s traveling for the next few days.”

“A few days? But I want to come home.” What was she supposed to do in the meantime? “He’s not coming to Savannah, is he?”

“He’s heading to Toronto and then Montreal.”

“Good.” She didn’t want Father and Gray comparing notes. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Think about the direction of your life. Think about what makes you happy,” Mother said, before saying goodbye.

Happy? The direction of her life? Ever since Father had practically ignored her getting on the high-school honor roll, her life had been circular. She’d worked so hard to make straight As. Dear old Dad had dismissed her accomplishments. Even when she’d set out to prove she was as smart as her brother, he’d scoffed at her dean’s list accomplishment and then crowed about Gray’s summa cum laude.

She tugged on her curls. The only praise he’d ever given her had been for her looks. Right after college she’d tried modeling, but the agency had suggested she lose ten pounds. Not going to happen.

She sank onto a bench. Laughter floated from a Fitzgerald House balcony. The fountain splashed. A cricket chirped near Carleton House and something scurried through the bushes.

Shouldn’t these sounds be soothing? Instead, they highlighted how alone she was. Mother wanted her to find direction? She didn’t want to think that deeply. She just wanted to go home.

What made her happy? Coloring with the kids had made her happy. Chatting with Josh at dinner had made her happy. Did that mean she wanted to be a mother?

She shook her head. At twenty-six she was too young to think about having children. And the idea of marriage... She rolled her shoulders, but couldn’t get rid of the itch at the base of her neck.

There wasn’t a man she’d dated longer than a month or two. No one held her attention. Most groveled too much, or were more interested in getting close to her father or Gray. Some only wanted her as arm candy.

She tapped her nail against the bench. But not Kaden Farrell. He’d barely glanced at her all through dinner. That never happened.

Kaden’s dimple had only appeared when he’d talked about fishing and his grandfather. She shuddered at the thought of slimy fish making someone happy.

Mother wanted her to find her direction? If she had to hide in Savannah, she would get Mr. Kaden Farrell to look in her direction and ask her out. That shouldn’t be so hard.

* * *

KADEN HANDED HIS granddad a towel.

“Thanks.” Granddad wiped his upper lip. “Wouldn’t want the ladies to see me sweat from my physical therapy.”

“You already have a fan club?”

“There are some lovely ladies here.” His grandfather settled into the wheelchair. “But I told you, you don’t have to spend all day with me. Head back to Atlanta. I don’t want to pull you away from your work.”

“I want to be here.” Kaden had so much to live up to. Granddad always put other people’s needs first. He pushed the wheelchair into the sunroom. “Want something to drink?”

“Water, please. My therapist might be lovely, but she’s a dictator.”

Kaden laughed and headed to the coffeepot. He poured a mug for himself and then a glass of water.

“Thanks.” His grandfather took a long drink. “What’s on your mind?”

“How do you do that?” Kaden asked.

Granddad pointed between Kaden’s eyebrows. “Whenever you want to discuss something, or something’s weighing on you, you get this crease between your eyebrows. I wouldn’t suggest you ever try gambling. It’s a big tell.”

“I’ll remember not to play poker with you.” He pulled up a chair so they sat facing each other.

“What’s bothering you?”

“You know Issy from the B and B?” Kaden asked.

“Sweet thing. Nathan’s daughter. Little girl doesn’t say much. Mother just up and dropped her off.” Nigel shook his head. “Never told Nathan about her.”

“She’s...connected with one of my cases.”

“Issy?”

“No. The mother.”

Understanding broke across his granddad’s face. “The mother’s in the drug world?”

Kaden nodded. “We’re pretty sure Issy witnessed a murder right before the mother dropped her off with Forester.”

“Poor kid.” Granddad closed his eyes. “Thank goodness Nathan has her now.”

Kaden took a deep breath. “My boss thinks the mother will come back for Issy.”

“You can’t let that happen. You know what her life must have been like.” Granddad’s fingers squeezed around his wrist. “Will the Bureau protect her?”

“They asked me to do that.”

“Perfect.” Granddad clapped his hands. “That’s better than watching my PT.”

“I’m supporting you.”

“And I appreciate that, but you can’t watch me 24/7.” Granddad snapped his fingers. “You know what you could do?”

Kaden frowned. “What?”

“Take over my B and B duties. You’ve got the skills. You could help the sisters and stay close to Issy.”

Take over Granddad’s work? “But I’m here for you.”

“Haven’t you been telling me I’m right where I belong? You’re twiddling your thumbs when you could be working to make sure that little girl is safe.” Nigel slapped the arm of the wheelchair. “Put that mother away and get those drugs off the street.”

Kaden swallowed. “You’re the only family I have left.”

“I know and I’m so sorry.” Granddad caught his hand and held on. “I should have worked harder to find you and your brother. I will always regret that. I was so mad at your mother for being weak.”

Kaden was still mad at his parents for being drug addicts. After his grandfather had taken him in, they’d both died of overdoses.

“You have a chance to make sure this little girl doesn’t go through what you went through.” Granddad’s slate-blue eyes were filled with regret. “You can make a difference. Make up for my screwup.”

“You didn’t screw up. My parents did.” And so had he. He hadn’t kept his brother safe. Could he keep Issy safe or would he make the same mistake? “I’d have to work undercover.”

“I’ve never told anyone what you do—just like you asked.”

“The secrecy policy is for the safety of our families. I would never forgive myself if someone hurt you because of me.” Kaden rubbed the back of his neck. “The Fitzgeralds think I followed in your footsteps for work.”

“Construction?”

“That’s what they assumed.” Kaden squeezed his grandfather’s hand. “Saving people is what I meant.”

“It’s important that you do this.” Smiling, Granddad touched his heart.

Love warmed his soul. “I love you, too.”

“If you have the possibility of getting one more drug ring out of commission,” Granddad said, “that’s more important than pushing my wheelchair around this rehab center.”

“I’ll...think about it.” But with Granddad’s support, Kaden already knew the answer. He was going to keep his eye on Isabella Forester.

* * *

“YOU WANT TO pick up Nigel’s duties while he’s healing?” Abby pushed the plate of cookies and bars closer to him and topped off his coffee.

“It was my grandfather’s suggestion.” Kaden picked up a tiny filled cookie. “He’s worried about the B and B.”

“Nigel is so thoughtful.”

“I think so.”

“Okay.” Abby tapped the table. “You could move into the apartment next to Cheryl and Nathan.”

“Where’s that?”

She pointed across the courtyard. “The second story of the carriage house.”

“But I thought a restaurant was going in there?” He took a bite and raspberries, cream and sugar filled his mouth. He moaned and took another cookie.

“The restaurant takes up about half of the building.” She pushed her ponytail off her shoulder. “If it really takes off, we’ll expand to the remainder of the first floor. But right now there’s an empty apartment.”

“That would be great.”

“There are two bedrooms, but no washer and dryer.” Abby grinned. “And one bedroom has this incredible princess-and-castle mural. You should like that.”

“Right.” He couldn’t help smiling. Abby was the kind of woman who made a man relax. Unlike her sister-in-law, Courtney. “Let me show you the apartment.” Abby pulled a key from a rack.

He followed her across the courtyard and past a set of stairs. “When does the restaurant open?”

“Nathan has promised I’ll be able to have a guest week right after Labor Day.” She unlocked a side door. “I’ll open the week after that.”

They headed up wooden steps that creaked and moaned. “Good security.”

“What?” She frowned.

“Creaking stairs. Hard to sneak up on anyone.”

She laughed, but he wasn’t kidding.

Abby unlocked the door and flipped on the light. “There’s furniture, too.”

The apartment was clean and included a reasonable-size living room and a small kitchen, including a table. The first bedroom was indeed fit for a princess. The mural was a work of art. A castle filled one corner of the wall. Princesses in bright gowns danced on a hill with bunnies and ponies.

“You can sleep in here.” Her eyes twinkled.

Kaden just shook his head. “Let’s see the other room.”

The bed in there was large.

“This should work. Thank you.”

Abby handed him a key. “I should let Nathan know I won’t need his crew to fill in at the B and B.”

“I can do that.” It gave Kaden a chance to tell Nathan his real purpose.

Abby headed back to Fitzgerald House and Kaden went down to the restaurant and found Nathan.

“Any place we can talk in private?” Kaden asked.

“Sure.” Frowning, Nathan led him to a room behind the bar. “What’s up? Is there news on Heather?”

“No, but since I’m here, my superior wants me to keep an eye on Issy. We think Bole will come back for her daughter.”

Nathan paced the long narrow room. “I won’t let her near Issy.”

“Understood. But if the only access to Isabella is here, I want to be around to catch Bole.” And put the evil woman away. “That’s why I’m taking over my grandfather’s duties at the B and B.”

“Good, good. I want her safe.” Nathan tugged off his cap and ran a hand through his hair. “Issy’s just coming out of her shell. I don’t want that bitch anywhere near her. What do you need from me?”

“Her schedule.” Kaden nodded. “I’d like to talk to the person in charge of her day care and any other place she goes each day.”

“Of course.” Nathan’s voice cracked.

“I’ll be undercover. No one can know I’m with the FBI.”

Nathan winced. “I can’t keep this from Cheryl.”

Kaden tapped his fingers against his thigh. “Will she keep this secret?”

“She can. She will,” Nathan vowed.

“Fine. I should spend more time with Issy.” He didn’t let Nathan see the shiver that ran down his back. “Maybe tonight?”

“Let’s have dinner again,” Nathan suggested. “That way she’ll know you’re a good guy.”

“Okay.” This better not be a mistake. He didn’t want Issy hurt. Not on his watch.

* * *

“COURTNEY?” GRAY CALLED. “Let’s go.”

“Almost ready.” She rubbed lotion on her pink skin. She’d sat in the garden reading, not noticing the time. Apparently, she’d stayed past her sunscreen expiration. She cringed at the idea of getting wrinkles or dry flaky sun-toughened skin. Mother would have scolded her soundly.

She’d gotten about half of her clothes unpacked, including the sundress she wore today, and then started reading and that was that. The book was wicked good.

Don’t use that expression. It is not how we talk.

Well, she wasn’t wicked smart like Gray.

She dressed and headed down the hall. Time to face her brother.

Gray waited in the entry, wearing a slate-blue polo shirt and shorts with enough pockets in them to go wilderness hiking. He stood with his legs spread, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

She blurted out, “You look like Father.”

“Thank you.” He raised one black eyebrow over his blue eyes, eyes that were the same color as the ones she saw in the mirror every day. It wasn’t fair. She couldn’t achieve her brother’s lush eyelashes without careful layers of mascara.

As they moved through the courtyard, Gray waved at two couples sitting at a small table.

“Do you know them?”

“They’re guests.”

But customer service was Abby’s job. She frowned, then blurted out, “You’re...different here.”

“What do you mean?”

She pushed out a breath. “When you and Gwen were dating, she always complained you never made time to do the things she wanted to do.”

“Gwen didn’t acknowledge I worked for a living.” He snorted. “I couldn’t be at her beck and call for parties and outings.”

It still irritated Courtney that he’d thrown over her best friend for a gold-digging Fitzgerald sister. She and Gwen had grown up together. They were best—

Courtney blinked. She hadn’t spoken to Gwen since leaving Boston. Shouldn’t her best friend have checked in? Told her how devastated she was without her?

What were her friends doing? She hadn’t checked social media, not wanting to know life continued while she hid in Georgia.

She and Gray stepped into Fitzgerald House. The kitchen bustled and the smells were amazing. It reminded Courtney of her favorite Mexican restaurant over in Back Bay. Salad plates lined every surface and Cheryl, Abby and someone she didn’t recognize worked side by side.

“Hey, handsome,” Abby called out.

“How’s the event going?” Gray asked.

“They loved the appetizers. Salad course is going up now.” Abby tipped her head and Gray bent and dropped a kiss on her lips.

“We’ll head into the library.” Gray brushed hair off Abby’s cheek. “We could eat someplace else.”

“Give me a half hour or so.” Abby nodded at Cheryl. “Nathan and the kids are coming. And Kaden will be here, too.”

Kaden. The handyman’s hot grandson. Courtney straightened her shoulders. Time to get her flirt on.

“Come on, brat.” Gray moved to the swinging door. “We need to talk about why you’re really here in Savannah.”

Uh-oh. She didn’t let the irritation in Gray’s voice alter her small smile.

In the library she stalled, perusing the offerings. Peeking at Gray’s stony expression, all she wanted was a drink and a place to hide. Preferably in Boston.

She put an enchilada on her plate and added a stuffed pepper, chips and salsa. When she spotted a pitcher of margaritas, she poured a glass. Hard alcohol might get her through Gray’s inquisition.

“Front parlor.” He didn’t wait for her response, just led the way, carrying his own plate, and took an armchair. She sat on the edge of a small sofa, across the coffee table from him.

“This smells so good.” She took a chip and ran it through the salsa. “Num. Your wife is so talented.”

“Don’t suck up. I know your tricks.” His gaze was glacial. “When were you going to ask me about a job?”

Never. She sampled her drink and let the sweet taste slide down. Darn it, Abby even made great mixed drinks. “A job?”

He leaned across the table. “I talked to Father.”

“Oh.” She needed to regroup. “Mother’s working on him. He’ll relent.”

“I don’t think so.” He sipped his drink. “Father wanted to know how you were working out.”

“Just fine. It was a long drive, but I’m recovering.” She looked at her brother over the rim of the glass.

“He wanted to know how you were settling into my new office.” He pointed at her with a stuffed jalapeño. “Stop playing stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”

She shoved her plate out of the way and stood. She paced to the doorway and back. Maybe she’d taken the wrong tack. Maybe Gray could help her out of this mess. “He was mad because of some shoes. Shoes.”

“Five thousand dollars’ worth of shoes.”

She waved her hand. “You have to pay for quality.”

“And you ran into the gate again.”

She slipped back into her seat. “It was because of an animal this time.”

“Right.” Exasperation wrinkled his face. “You have to do something with your life.”

“With my fabulous literature degree?” She rolled her eyes.

“You chose your major,” he snapped.

“But I didn’t choose my school.”

“Sure you did.” He frowned. “You chose Mother’s alma mater.”

“I wanted Yale.” She bit her lip.

“With our history there—” his black eyebrows formed a straight line “—you didn’t get in?”

“I was accepted.” Of course her brother would think that she hadn’t had the grades, that she hadn’t been smart enough. “I test very well.”

Gray rattled his drink. “I don’t understand.”

“Father wouldn’t allow me to go to Yale because I wasn’t a serious student.” She stared at her food, not wanting to see the pity on Gray’s face.

“I didn’t know. I would have argued for you. Helped you.” Gray tipped up her chin with his finger, forcing her to stare into sympathy-filled eyes. “But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have had a different degree program.”

Arguing with Father for months on end had sucked the motivation right out of her.

“So, you’re working for me.” He tapped her nose.

It was something he’d done when she was young, when she’d been upset. He’d been good at cheering her up. She tried to smile. “I could lay low until Mother convinces Father that this is ridiculous.”

“You work for me, or you leave.” He forked a piece of enchilada into his mouth. “Since I haven’t finished the build-out on my office space, we’ll work out of the house. You start tomorrow.”

He would make her leave? “Can’t you tell Father I work for you, but I don’t actually do anything?”

“No.” Pity filled his face again. “We start at seven thirty. That means you’re up, moving and have eaten your breakfast.”

“Lovely.” She had to keep this from happening.

He pointed at her plate. “Are you going to eat that?”

Her appetite was gone. “It’s all yours.”

She headed into the library and refilled her margarita glass. Lord let her catch a horrible disease by tomorrow.

* * *

KADEN STEPPED INTO the Fitzgerald House kitchen and sniffed. Then sniffed again. His mouth watered at the scent of peppers, limes, tomatoes and onions.

Nathan waved from the table. “You got my message.”

“Hey, Kaden.” Abby set a dish on the table. “Grab a chair.”

He took a seat across from Issy, hoping she would get comfortable with him.

Gray and his sister came in through the swinging door. Damn, Courtney was gorgeous. His system absorbed the hit of her beauty like Kevlar absorbed the energy of a bullet.

Courtney’s gaze slipped over to him. She looked shell-shocked. Then her smile emerged like a mask. Odd. She hadn’t smiled much last night.

Gray sat next to Kaden and slapped him on the back. “Good to see you again.”

“Thanks.”

“Kaden’s taking on Nigel’s duties while he’s recuperating,” Abby called over. “He’ll stay in the carriage house apartment.”

Cheryl pulled out pans of enchiladas from the oven and nodded to Kaden. “It will be nice to have you nearby.”

Courtney’s pretty mouth dropped open. “Don’t you have a job?”

“I’m...between assignments.”

Her lips pursed, making an almost perfect pink circle. She touched a line forming above her eyebrows and it disappeared. “You’re a handyman?”

She made it sound like it was worse than selling drugs on the street.

“I learned from the best,” he said. “My granddad.”

Gray glared at his sister. “Abby will feel better knowing you’re handling Nigel’s work.”

Kaden turned away from Courtney’s derision and back to Issy. “I saw the beautiful mural in your old bedroom. Did you paint it?”

She giggled. “Daddy did.”

Josh stuck his thumb to his chest. “I helped.”

“It’s wonderful.” And pink. Very pink.

“Daddy’s painting a mural in our new house,” she whispered.

“Your daddy’s very talented,” Kaden said.

She tipped her head against her father’s chest. “I love Daddy.”

How could Heather have ever put this little girl in jeopardy?

“Eat,” Abby insisted. “Your next course is almost up.”

They dug in. Kaden asked Issy about school, but Josh answered for her.

Courtney caught his eye from across the table and winked at him. Winked? What was going on? Then she put her hand on Josh’s arm and asked, “How did you learn to draw so well?”

Courtney and Josh tucked their heads together, leaving Kaden free to talk to Issy. He envied Courtney’s ease with the kids.

“So when do you go to kindergarten?” he asked Issy.

“Not ’til I’m...” She held up her hand, fingers spread out.

Her father rubbed the girl’s back.

“Five?” Kaden asked, to keep the conversation going.

She nodded and ate more of the mouthwatering food Abby and Cheryl kept bringing to the table.

What else could he ask a kid? “Josh says you’re getting a puppy when you move.”

Issy nodded. “Like Carly.”

He shook his head. “Who’s Carly?”

Nathan explained, “My brother’s dog.”

“Love Carly,” Issy whispered. The kid never spoke very loud.

“That should be nice.”

“We won’t get a dog that big, right, short stuff?” her father said.

The girl tipped her head at her father and batted her eyes. “Maybe.”

Everyone at the table broke out laughing. Even Courtney. He frowned. She hadn’t laughed the previous night. She’d worn a stunned expression on her beautiful face. Now it was more...sultry. He’d never described a woman that way.

With a head full of ebony curls and brilliant blue eyes, Kaden imagined Courtney had flaunted her own childhood cuteness. She’d probably wrapped adults around her finger back then and men now.

Gray and Nathan talked about the restaurant construction. Courtney chatted away with Josh.

Kaden was stumped. How did you talk to a kid? What else could they talk about?

“Josh, no drawing at the table.” Cheryl brought something fragrant to the table. “Pollo verde.”

“What’s going on?” he asked Abby.

“There’s an engagement party in the ballroom.”

“That’s why we’re eating here,” Nathan added. “Abby and Cheryl always make enough to feed the crew so we benefit.”

“And Mrs. Gonzalez gave me some of her family recipes.” Abby wiggled her eyebrows. “The pollo verde is hers.”

Gonzalez? His body went on alert. Gonzalez family members were lieutenants in the Salvez cartel. The father, Jose, had worked his way up to underboss. Was it possible cartel members were in the Fitzgerald House ballroom celebrating?

He touched the gun under his shirt. He couldn’t overlook the possibility that Hector Salvez might be upstairs with Heather Bole. His heart pounded.

Kaden slid away from the table. “Excuse me.”

Stepping next to Abby, he whispered, “Nigel said one of my jobs will be to set up for events. Do you mind if I peek into the ballroom?”

Her reddish-blond eyebrows snapped together. “Sure.”

“Third floor?”

She nodded.

“Let me take you up,” Cheryl volunteered. “I can see how things are going.”

“Thanks.”

Cheryl led him to a back stairway. As they neared the third floor, she asked, “Does this have to do with Issy?”

What could he reveal? “Gonzalez is a name associated with the case. It’s a long shot, but it’s possible Salvez, Bole’s partner, is here.”

Cheryl swallowed. “Do you think Heather is here?”

“Only one way to find out.”

In the service hallway, trays of stainless steel covers and dirty dishes were neatly stacked on carts. The muffled clinking of silverware and the hum of voices came through the door. “How many guests?”

“The estimate was one hundred.” She swung open the door.

“Will I be able to see most of them from here?”

“About half. We can stop here and then go around to the ballroom doors.”

Stepping inside, he scanned the ballroom, looking for any of the faces he’d memorized from the Mexican cartels operating in Georgia. He didn’t recognize anyone. And no sign of Bole, either.

“Let’s check from the entrance,” he said.

The main doors were open. And at least one man looked familiar.

There were two tables of adults near the back, with two older men at each table. No one noticed as he zoomed in with his phone camera.

“That’s all I needed.”

Now he had to wait to see the actual photos. And he wasn’t good at waiting.

* * *

COURTNEY SWIRLED HER GLASS, but her margarita was gone. The glass clinked as she set it on the courtyard table.

Look what her life had come to. She couldn’t remember ever drinking alone. All because of dear old Dad. Gray insisted she be ready to work at seven thirty—in the morning. Back home she wouldn’t get up until nine or later.

She missed her friends, missed Boston and missed a home where she didn’t have to think about getting up at dawn. “Damn it! Why is my life so screwed up?”

Footsteps echoed along the path. They stopped on the other side of the hedge and a hand reached through. A deep voice asked, “Everything all right?”

The handyman.

“Just...getting away from the lovebirds.” She jerked her head up to Gray and Abby’s window.

Kaden came around the plants and scanned the area. “Were you talking...to yourself?”

Here was someone to take her mind off her troubles. The soft lighting in Bess’s garden set a seductive mood. It barely lit her quarry, the hot Mr. Kaden Farrell.

She shook her hair so it cascaded over one shoulder. She excelled at wrapping men around her finger. “My life is in a bit of an upheaval right now.”

His eyebrows lowered. “That’s hard to imagine.”

She moved closer, swinging her hips. “I’m bored. I don’t suppose you know of any nightclubs or someplace we could have some fun?”

She set her hand on his chest. His muscles bunched under her fingers. She smoothed her hand up to his shoulder. Nice.

“I don’t have fun.” He caught her hand and pushed it away.

She stumbled into his body and looked up into his icy blue eyes.

His gaze flicked down to her lips and stayed there.

Her stomach fluttered. The hum of attraction was so much nicer than wallowing about having to work for Gray. She licked her upper lip. His nostrils flared. She stood on her toes so he wouldn’t have to bend too low to kiss her.

He stepped back. “Stop.”

Kaden was rejecting her? A handyman? She wanted to curl into a ball and hide. Instead, she whispered, “Stop?”

“I’m not here to entertain you.” He set a heavy hand on her shoulder, keeping her from moving closer.

“But we could... You’re a long way from Atlanta. Don’t you want...” Me? She never stumbled and stammered.

“It’s late and I need to...rest.”

He was making excuses? This couldn’t be happening. A handyman!

“No one ignores me,” she whispered. Louder, she snapped, “Just...just...stay out of my way.”

He pointed at her. “You’ve got it.”

A man had never looked at her with that kind of...animosity. The bushes rustled as he stomped away.

She slumped against the nearby palm tree. Why was her life out of control? She’d been ready to kiss him, and he’d shut her down.

The jerk! No man did that. Not to her. Somehow, she would figure out how to bring Mr. Kaden Farrell to heel.

And then she would treat him like the dog he was.

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