Deception. Carol Ericson
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and try to get that hunk of junk up top.”
Mia hugged herself and hunched her shoulders. “I could’ve been part of that junk.”
“But you’re not.” Dylan snaked an arm around her again, his fingers tangling in her hair.
Her lips twitched into a smile, but her brow furrowed. “Don’t worry about dinner. All my money and credit cards are probably floating in the ocean about now.”
“No problem. You can pay me back.”
“Just like the brother I never had—but really, I’m not hungry.” She slugged him in the shoulder, and he winced—not because she packed a powerful punch, but the reference to being a brother had just cut him off at the knees.
He gave her a little shove from behind toward his squad car. “Wait for me in the car…and watch where you’re walking with those bare feet.”
After consulting with the accident scene investigators and his officers, Dylan slid into the car and eyed Mia slumped in his backseat. “You could’ve sat up front, you know, so you don’t look like a suspect.”
Sitting up, she curled her fingertips into the wire mesh that separated the front seat from the back. “Wasn’t sure I was allowed next to all those gadgets.”
“I trust you.” He wheeled his squad car to the edge of the turnout. “Where are you staying?”
“I’m at the Sea View Motel.”
As he pulled onto the highway, Dylan knitted his brows. “That’s in the other direction. What were you doing on this stretch of the highway?”
“I went to the house.”
“Columbella House?”
“Is there any other?”
“It’s dark.” He adjusted his mirror. “What did you hope to find there?”
She flopped back against the seat again. “I don’t know. Just had a burning desire to see it.”
“Are the lights on out there?”
“I had a flashlight. Of course, that’s with my purse, shoes and laptop now.”
“What did you get out of the visit? Did the ghosts of past St. Regis family members clue you in on what you should do with the house?”
“No, but whatever I do is going to be a monumental feat. The place is a mess.”
Dylan swung into the parking lot of the Sea View. He’d have expected Mia to stay at one of the more luxurious hotels in town or along the coast. The Sea View was decidedly low rent.
“Oh, crud.” Mia slapped the seat. “I don’t even have a key to get into my room.”
“Stop at the front desk. I’ll vouch for you.”
They crowded into the small office and tapped the bell on the counter. Gladys Hofstedter came out of the back, and shut the door on the TV blaring behind her. Her eyes popped when she took in the occupants at the counter. “Hello, Mia, Chief Reese.”
Looked like Mia didn’t need him to vouch for her. She and Gladys were already on a first-name basis. “Hello, Gladys.” She folded her arms on the counter. “You’re not going to believe this, but the brakes on my rental car went out, and my car went off a cliff near Coral Cove Drive.”
Gladys gasped and covered her mouth. “Are you okay?”
“Chief Reese got there just in time.” Mia patted his arm. “But all my stuff was in that car—purse, money, credit cards, room key.”
“Well, that’s not a problem, dear.” Gladys pulled open a drawer and fished out a key with a white tag on it. “You can have this one.”
Mia jiggled the key in her palm. “Thanks, Gladys, and don’t worry about the money. I’m good for it.”
Gladys’s plump cheeks turned pink. “I know you are, dear, and isn’t it nice to have another Chief Reese at the helm? He’s not back one month and he’s performing rescues.”
The skin on the back of Dylan’s neck prickled with heat. He knew taking Dad’s place in Coral Cove would come with its challenges, but he didn’t figure being treated like some kind of returning hero was one of them…especially since he was far from that.
Mia clenched the key in her fist and banged the counter. “Yep, I’m glad his tenure coincided with my visit.”
“Well, I’m going to get back to my show.” Gladys made a half turn toward the door that led to her living quarters. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”
Reaching for a small refrigerated case, Dylan said, “How about a couple of sodas?”
“You can have those on the house, Chief.” Gladys winked.
“Not allowed to take a bribe, Gladys.” Dylan shoved his hand in his pocket, drew out three crumpled bills and dropped them onto the counter. “That about do it?”
“That’s fine.” Gladys swept the money into her hand and shuffled back toward the closed door. “Have a nice evening.”
“Since you’re not hungry, how about a drink?” Dylan held out one of the bottles to Mia.
“That’ll do. Thanks.”
He gestured around the motel office. “I can’t believe every other hotel in town was booked up, what with the tourist season coming to an end.”
Mia shrugged and twisted the cap off her soda. “Almost every other hotel in town is a chain. Gladys worked for my grandparents once, and she’s trying to stay in business.”
He choked on his soda and it fizzed in his nose. Mia St. Regis had a few compassionate bones left in her body? She’d been that way as a girl, although her imperious attitude sometimes overruled her compassion. The last time he’d briefly seen her in Coral Cove, the summer her boyfriend ran off with her twin, she’d seemed…brittle. And that was even before Marissa absconded with the boyfriend.
She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Don’t believe everything you read about me. I thought you knew me better than that.”
He held open the door for her and inhaled her expensive perfume as she brushed past him. “I used to know you.”
“I’m the same old Mia.”
He followed the sway of her hips and the swirl of her skirt around her thighs as she strolled outside. She perched on the seawall and crossed her legs, swinging one slim stem back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm.
He straddled the wall and took another swig of soda. The sea breeze tossed Mia’s dark hair and carried a hint of jasmine from the untidy bushes that scrambled along the base of the seawall. For the first time in a long time, knots unraveled in his shoulders and his jaw didn’t ache from tension.
She pointed the neck of her bottle at the ocean, a deep, inky-blue relieved by lines of whitecaps on the horizon. “This is another reason why I wanted to stay here. Can’t beat this view, and you don’t have to share it with a patio full of drunks like you do at the ritzy places down the coast.”
“Are you going to turn Columbella House into another hotel with patios for drunks?”
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet.”
“Holt shouldn’t have written that article in the Herald about you. It got some people riled up.”
She took a sip of soda, and he tried not to fixate on the way her lips wrapped around the bottle.
“So what is it the good residents of Coral Cove want me to do with Columbella House?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Depends on who you ask. Some of the younger people and new business owners would like to see you turn the property into a resort. A lot of the older