Chapter Seventeen

Tori snuggled closer to the warm body, the scent of dust and aftershave and a hint of male musk, reminding her Connor had just come home from filming a commercial. It had been a midnight shoot, she recalled, her mind still groggy with sleep. They’d made love when he returned, then had dozed off.

She had to get up and go to work, she thought. Connor’s day was over, but hers was just beginning. If she didn’t hurry, she’d be late for a major presentation at the graphic arts firm where she was striving to make a name for herself.

Opening her eyes and trying to move, she realized Connor’s arm had her pinned to the bed. She eased away from him, not wanting to awaken him, but desperate to see what time it was. How late was she going to be?

She blinked twice, staring in disbelief at the dark head of hair on her pillow. Not Connor’s thick wheat-colored hair. Reality jolted her like a physical blow. She wasn’t in Los Angeles with Connor Anderson. Connor was dead.

For the love of God! The predawn events came back to her in a blinding rush. “Brody Hawke,” she whispered under her breath.

She remembered kissing the back of his neck … tasting him. Oh, Lordy, why had she done such a thing?

How had his arm gotten around her? The heat from his body had seeped through the flimsy gown and matching robe, telling her they’d been in this position for some time. She must have fallen asleep when she’d been watching him.

She tried to wiggle out from under his arm, but couldn’t budge him. Even asleep his strength amazed her. What if he woke up and found her like this? He’d jump to the wrong conclusion.

Evidently, he’d been half asleep and mistaken her for one of his girlfriends, pulling her close. If she got away from him now, he wouldn’t know the difference. She scooted down, twisting, but moving gently so as not to awaken him. His arm was like a dead weight, and she was getting nowhere. Worse, her gown and robe had hiked up to the top of her thighs.

His head whipped around on the pillow. “Hey, babe, things were just getting interesting. Don’t go anywhere.”

She couldn’t control her gasp of surprise. He was awake and studying her from beneath long, dark lashes with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. The dark stubble shadowing his jaw gave him a roguish, sexy look some women might have found irresistible.

She knew better. This man was trouble with a capital T. She might have temporarily lost her senses a few hours ago, but with the hazy light of the new day, her common sense returned.

“Let me up,” she cried. “My back was hurting, so I was resting for a minute. I must have fallen asleep.”

He snaked his arm around her waist and drew her into his hot heat, forcing her to acknowledge his powerful torso, the hard length of his legs, and his ability to shackle her with one arm. Before she could draw another breath, she realized the solid proof of his virility was rammed against her tummy.

Oh, my Gawwwd! She had a fully aroused male on her hands.

Tori squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think how to get out of this predicament. Well, she had no one to blame except herself. No one.

When she opened her eyes, she was nose to nose with Brody. This close, his arousal pressed against her soft flesh, he was more intoxicatingly virile than she could have imagined.

“Come on, angel, don’t give me that falling asleep bullshit. You kissed me.”

What could she say? She had kissed the back of his neck. Why, she would never know, but some wild impulse had driven her to do it.

“It was just a test to see if you were still awake.”

His eyes narrowed to dark blue slits that said he wasn’t buying that bridge. “Really? And just what were you doing licking me? You’re part cannibal?”

There was no way of explaining this, she thought, mortified beyond belief. No way at all. “I guess it was just a little game.”

“I get it.” The grin on his face would have tested a nun’s vows. “A game. Okay, works for me. My turn.”

He was breathing harder now, his eyes dilated with sexual hunger. His mouth came down on hers, stifling any protest. His lips were surprisingly gentle as his mouth parted over hers and his tongue traced the fullness of her lower lip. A bittersweet ache heated her thighs, then moved upward, and she knew if she didn’t end this quickly she wouldn’t be able to control her own emotions.

“Quit that!”

“What?” he asked, all innocence. “This?”

His lips reclaimed hers, more demanding this time. A shock wave of pure desire pulsed through her entire body. Get a grip, she told herself, before you lose control.

“Yes! That!” Twisting in his arms and arching her body, she tried to free herself. “Game’s over.”

“No, babe. The game’s not over until I say it’s over.”

He planted a tantalizing kiss in the hollow of her neck, one of the most sensitive spots on her body. In a series of slow, shivery kisses, his lips roved upward a scant inch at a time to the even more sensitive area around her ear. She thought she knew all about sexual arousal, but this was different.

She had no experience with a man like him. A walk on the wild side. That’s what it would be like to make love to Brody Hawke.

“Baby, I’m yours. I like this game,” he whispered his firm lips brushing her earlobe.

She could have opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but her blood had thickened like warm honey and her limbs were too weak to move. She realized she was sensual by nature, but her physical reaction had never been this overwhelming. Since when had she lost control of her own body?

Since meeting Brody Hawke.

There was no denying it. Now she was truly lost.

Lou sprinkled cheese on the frittata and smiled to himself. Wilson. Her last name came back to him unexpectedly. Katherine Wilson. An amateur ornithologist, or so she was telling the other bed and breakfast guests while he prepared their morning meal. He could hear them talking from the nearby dining room.

Katherine glanced through the doorway and caught Lou looking at her. He winked just to see what she would do. Damn all. She winked back.

Before he knew what he was doing, Lou had too much cheese on the frittata and had to scrape some off. Keep your mind on business, he told himself. The bald guy on the right was from Elite Travel, the most prestigious of the travel magazines. Austin Glasell thought Lou didn’t know who he was, but Lou hadn’t been an investigative reporter for nothing.

Glasell had checked in and paid cash, arousing Lou’s suspicions. It didn’t take much brains to check all the travel websites. Glasell had his picture plastered all over Elite’s home page.

Lou walked into the Victorian dining room with its immense cherry wood table and served the frittata garnished with wedges of fresh cantaloupe and sweet local strawberries. An impressive presentation, if he did say so himself. His light, fluffy popovers were already on the adjacent sideboard with an urn of coffee and a selection of the finest teas.

“Smells scrumptious,” declared one of the guests.

“Fabulous,” seconded another.

“Hhmm,” murmured Glasell noncommittally. “Do you know the Hawke family?”

The unexpected question surprised Lou. If the travel writer had spoken to anyone in the valley, he would know Tori was engaged to Elliott Hawke, but Lou didn’t like to boast about his connections.

“I know them.” Lou moved the platter of sausage he’d made himself from the sideboard to the table. “Everyone in the valley knows the family.”

“I was going to hike over there this morning,” Katherine said with another smile in his direction. “I understand there’s a unique hawk’s roost on their property.”

“So I hear,” Lou responded. He’d been there, of course, but he knew Gian Hawke had been rabid about strangers wandering around on his property. Lou didn’t know how Elliott felt, but he didn’t want to encourage this woman.

“If you take the fire road, you can get to the roost, can’t you?” asked Katherine.

“I guess.” Lou busied himself refilling coffee cups. How in hell would she know that? The fire roads weren’t a secret, but they weren’t on most maps. In places they were overgrown with brush, and it was always a fight with county bureaucrats to keep the narrow dirt roads clear in case of fire.

“Ornithologists always know the secret trails,” Katherine said. “Off the beaten path is where you find the rare birds.”

Something about the way she said it disturbed Lou, or maybe it was the glint in her eye. Last night during cocktails, Katherine Wilson had been coming on to him. He had the feeling something else was behind her flirting.

Normally, Lou would have joined the guests for a cup of coffee, but Glasell’s presence made him nervous, and Katherine put him on edge. To add to his worries was the troublesome news he’d received late last night from Sheriff Westcott. He wandered back into the kitchen to soak the pans.

He’d wanted to discuss the situation with Tori, but she’d been in bed with Brody, which only added to Lou’s concerns. The itch was back, the niggling feeling he used to have when he was about to break a big story.

He didn’t want his daughter caught in the middle of this mess, he thought, peering out the window at the carriage house. Tori hadn’t even opened the door to let out Piny, who usually appeared each morning to beg from his guests. What was going on out there?

Maybe he didn’t want to know.

He turned to go back to his guests to see if they needed something and found Austin Glasell at his elbow.

“Hawke’s Landing is closed this week because of Gian Hawke’s death,” Glasell said. “Do you think you could get me a private tour?”

Normally, he would have refused, but Lou didn’t want to see the Silver Moon bashed on the pages of Elite Travel or dragged through the muck in cyberspace at their website.

“Let me make some calls. I’ll do what I can,” he promised the bald travel writer.

“Me, too,” piped up Katherine, who’d come into the kitchen carrying her empty plate. “I’d like to walk around the vineyard and see if there are any unusual birds.”

She had her nerve, Lou thought. They both did, but he mustered a smile and nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement outside the kitchen window. Maybe Tori had let Piny out. He looked more closely.

“Oh, shit!”

Elliott Hawke and his cousin Rachel were coming up the drive toward the carriage house.

“Tori’s car is still in the lot,” Elliott told Rachel as they walked toward the carriage house. “She’s here, but I don’t see any sign of Brody.”

“Maybe he’s come and gone.” Rachel was beginning to think this wasn’t one of her best ideas. There had been no sign of Brody at the accident scene. Who knew where he was? Insisting Brody had wrecked the car, then came to cry on Tori’s shoulder could backfire. “You’ve got to admit the crash looks suspicious. Even Sheriff Westcott said so.”

“Elliott! Elliott!” Red-faced and huffing, Lou Edwards came thundering out of the back door. “What are you doing here this early?”

Why was Tori’s father shouting so loudly? Elliott wondered. “I’m looking for Tori.”

Lou halted, breathing way too hard for a man his age, blocking Elliott from going up the steps to the carriage house. “She’s still asleep.”

“Isn’t she going to work soon?” Rachel asked before he could.

“Later,” Lou responded. “It’s early yet.”

Two guests had walked outside the back door. The bald man looked vaguely familiar, but Elliott couldn’t place him. In his mind’s eye, he kept seeing the crash scene, and the vise around his chest cinched tighter. What had happened to his brother?

“Elliott Hawke?” called the bald man as he walked toward them. “I’m Austin Glasell.”

Elliott bit back a groan. The prick from Elite Travel who did an article each year ranking Napa Valley vineyards. He ruthlessly picked apart the tastings that followed vineyard tours, ranking them with stars. Hawke’s Landing had always received four stars, the highest honor, but that could change. What he didn’t need right now was a bad rating from America’s foremost travel magazine.

“I’m glad to meet you finally.” Elliott hoped he didn’t sound as phony as he felt. “Smart man. You’re staying at the best B and B in Napa.”

“Austin Glassel from Elite Travel?” Lou said. “What an honor.”

What a joke, Rachel thought. Everyone brown nosing each other. When was she going to get a break?

While they were talking about the recent harvest, Rachel went up the steps. She peeked through the lace curtains on the door. Hot damn!

Luck was with her—big time. Tori was in bed with some man. They were thrashing about so much it was hard to tell who it was for a second. Brody Hawke, she realized as he kissed Tori so passionately that Rachel pretended for a second it was Elliott kissing her.

Brody Hawke in bed with Miss High and Mighty Victoria Anderson. How lucky could Rachel get? At first she thought finding Brody dead would suit her purposes, but this was much, much better.

The men behind Rachel were still discussing the relative merits of French versus California wines. Rachel took the moment to plan her course of action. Outrage was her first thought, but shielding Elliott from the truth would be perceived as a more protective, compassionate approach. Of course, she would fail to keep the ugly truth from the poor guy.

“Tori must have ridden her bike to work,” Rachel said as she rejoined the group at the bottom of the carriage house steps.

“That’s right,” Lou said hastily. “She left some time ago.”

A lie. Rachel decided Lou Edwards knew exactly who was in his daughter’s bed. That’s why he’d come flying out of the kitchen.

“I thought you said she was asleep,” Elliott told Lou.

Unexpectedly the door to the carriage house opened halfway and out romped the Labrador. Piny whipped his tail through the air, heading directly for Lou.

“Dad?” Tori called softly, peeping around the door.

Her hair looked as if she’d been caught in a cyclone, and her nightgown was hanging off one shoulder. Only a complete idiot would missed her swollen lips and wide dilated eyes.

Rachel grabbed Elliott’s arm. “Let’s get out of here. You don’t want to see this.”

“See what?” Elliott asked. Everyone around him was acting weird. Why would they say Tori wasn’t here when she plainly was? The light dawned and with it came the crushing sensation he’d experienced when he’d first learned he had a twin brother.

“Is Brody in there?” he heard himself ask, although he didn’t recognize his own voice.

“Brody? Ah-ah—”

The door swung open, cutting off Tori. Brody stood behind her, wearing nothing but ripped trousers, riding low around his hips, exposing his navel.

Leaving nothing to Elliott’s imagination.