“Now you sound more like a cop than a P.I. Are we still on for the breakfast meeting tomorrow at nine?”
“We can make it later if you want.”
“No. I feel like I’ve wasted enough time. I need…we need to get back on Bree’s case.”
“Nine o’clock it is then.” Sensing her dismissal, he stepped back into the hallway.
“Good night, and thanks for helping out…again.”
“My pleasure, Madam Medium.”
Shaking her head, she shut the door on him. He stood with his head cocked until he heard both the dead bolt and the chain. So he sounded more like a cop than a P.I.? He’d have to change that because he’d never be a cop…never again.
* * *
T HE NEXT MORNING Kylie adjusted the showerhead so the hot water hit between her shoulder blades. Dropping her head, she braced her palms against the tile. That little swing from the third floor of Columbella had done a number on her muscles.
How much worse it would’ve been if Matt hadn’t rescued her.
And what a rescue. Landing on top of his strong, muscled body had almost been worth the ride.
She sighed and cranked off the faucet. If her adult self could go back and tell her teenage self that Matt Conner was making suggestive comments to her and sleeping down the hall, her teenage self would faint dead away.
Or who knows? Maybe her teenage self would have more sense than to fall for a bad boy in black motorcycle boots. She’d always thought Matt was totally hot, but if he had crooked his little finger her way like he’d done to so many other girls, she probably would’ve shot him down. Then. Now?
Now she had a job to do—two jobs if she ever hoped to find peace over Mom’s suicide. And now that Matt was involved with her other job, she’d have to find a way to work with him while keeping her thoughts above his waist. Unfortunately for her, he had plenty going on upstairs, too.
She stepped out of the shower and rubbed the steam from the mirror with her fist. She’d scrubbed the threatening words from the mirror last night before she went to bed. The hotel security guard wasn’t interested in seeing them, and Kylie had no intention of calling the police. She’d been around police departments long enough to know what the cops found serious enough to investigate. Even a small-town department like Coral Cove wouldn’t be interested in a few words scrawled on a hotel bathroom mirror.
Would Mayor Davis be petty enough to try to drive her away with lipstick? Probably.
As she put the finishing touches on her makeup, a loud knock on the door made her smear her pink lipstick onto her face. She’d have to try a different brand. This one obviously had a curse on it.
She squinted through the peephole at Matt, wearing cargo shorts and flip-flops today, lounging in front of her door. Annoyingly, her heart lifted at the sight of him.
She yanked open the door. “I thought we were just meeting at the restaurant. I don’t need an escort.”
His brows shot up. “Wow, wake up on the wrong side of the Ouija board this morning?”
She sealed her lips against the giggle threatening to humiliate her. “That joke’s getting a little old.”
“Really? Because I could’ve sworn a saw a smile light those green eyes of yours.”
Matt was more perceptive than she gave him credit for. That’s what must make him a good P.I. Was he a good P.I.? She knew next to nothing about him. Just that standing close to him made her heart race. And touching him made her body flush.
She threw open the door. “Okay, you’re mildly amusing. Let me grab my stuff.”
She scooped up her purse and swept open the drapes. “It’s sunny.”
“And it’s already warm. Going to be one of those picture-perfect days on the coast.”
“You’ve been already been outside?” She slipped her card key into the side pocket of her purse.
“Went for a run on the beach and took advantage of the hotel gym before the hordes descended.”
Her gaze swept up from his solid, flaring thighs to his broad shoulders that tested the fabric of his T-shirt. Of course he’d already hit the gym. A man didn’t get a body like that drinking beer in front of the boob tube.
When she finally made it back to his face, he met her gaze with a tilted grin. Oh, yeah, he knew she’d been checking him out. How could she blame him for taking the same inventory of her last night?
They stepped out of the elevator, and Matt nodded toward the front entrance of the hotel. “We don’t have to eat here. There are a couple of breakfast places on Main Street.”
“Okay. Let’s get out of here. The person who broke into my room might still be lurking around the hotel.”
Matt held open the door for her and she brushed past him. Even without the motorcycle boots, he towered over her and just about everyone else.
She stopped on the sidewalk and drew in a long breath of salty air.
“Growing up on the coast, that smell gets into your system, doesn’t it? Even down in L.A., I lived as close to the beach as I could get on my salary.”
“Lived? You don’t live in L.A. anymore?”
His jaw tightened. “I’ve been traveling for work. How about you? You left Coral Cove for where?”
“I’ve lived here and there. I’m up in Oregon now, Portland.” Truth was, she didn’t have roots anywhere. She had no siblings and her father had run out on her and her mom years before Mom’s suicide.
“How about the Whole Earth Café?” He pointed across the street at a small café with a blue awning.
“Looks fine to me. Must be new.” She stepped off the curb, but Matt grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
“Better not jaywalk here. I heard the chief is always looking for ways to increase the city’s revenues.”
“Wow, the bad boy of Coral Cove really is a reformed character. No jaywalking?”
They reached the corner and crossed between the yellow lines of the crosswalk. Matt grabbed the door handle of the restaurant and yanked it open, sending the little bell on the door into a tizzy.
Kylie clutched his arm. “Hold on.”
She tilted her head to the side to read one of the flyers posted in the window of the restaurant. Tapping the glass, she said, “It’s a flyer for the Coral Cove Music Festival.”
“Those have been up for a while. I’ve been seeing them all over town in the two days I’ve been here. Makes sense—it kicks off in a few days.”
A shiver of apprehension rolled through her body as she bent forward to read the small print at the bottom of the flyer. “Look. A Harlan Sloan production.”
Matt crouched beside her, his breath fogging the window. “Harlan Sloan was the concert promoter the year Bree went missing.”
“I see you’ve done your homework.”
“Did you figure me for a slouch?”
She shrugged. “Not really. What kinds of cases do you work mostly?”
“Let’s save this conversation for later.” He straightened to his full height and steered her into the small café.
The hostess waved them to a couple of empty tables on the right side of the room and they snagged one in the corner—better for plotting and planning…and working. Because this was a working breakfast, nothing more.
After the waitress