Page 18 of Island Holiday

“You bought the rings. No one would’ve cared.”

He shrugged.

“Just tell me. Are you some kind of trust fund baby?” How else would he have money to toss around? Then a terrible thought popped into her head. “Or is it just going on the expense report?”

“Hardly.” He snorted. “I’ll return it or sell it, I guess.”

Her heart pinched at the idea of someone else wearing that ring. Then she scolded herself for the silly reaction. “Yeah, sure. He was all about the enduring value.” She moved back to her spot on the couch. Best if she got back to work.

“Who?”

“The salesman.”

“Guess I wasn’t listening.”

“You were busy saving our butts,” she said. Her attention had been split between chattering enough that they didn’t get kicked out and what a kiss that intense could mean between virtual strangers.

“About that.” She twisted around on the couch, much happier keeping the conversation focused on business. “Any idea who those guys were?”

“I assume they’re on Zimmer’s payroll. Unless you have enemies here who found you.”

She swallowed. “I have enemies in Charlotte, yes. But none that would’ve found me hours after my arrival in this swanky neighborhood.”

“Want to talk about it?” He held out two plates, both loaded with thick sandwiches and chips. He tipped his head to invite her to the table. “Can you grab the drinks?”

“On it.” She took the seat across from him. “Thanks for this.”

“It’s a sandwich. And my pleasure.”

Her stomach growled and she dug into the food. The man made an excellent sandwich. He seemed to excel at everything he put his mind to.

Like kissing.

Stop. She couldn’t keep torturing herself over something that could never be. They were too different. He was an office guy and she was forever on the move.

“So, about your enemies,” he prompted after a time. “No chance those two were connected to your past?”

She shook her head. “Has to be Zimmer.”

“All right.”

He didn’t press, just picked up the second half of his sandwich. She could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he respected her limits. Maybe that’s all she needed. “I move around because I’m scared. At least that’s how it started.” She took a long drink of her water. For a moment she considered something stronger.“Now, it’s as much a habit as anything else.” Under the table she twisted the napkin in her lap. “I’m not a trust fund baby either,” she began. “I was born to a family of con artists and thieves, but I didn’t like it. I loved school. Hated lying. They had the gene that allowed them to work a mark, but I never could see people the way they did.”

He gave a low whistle. “No wonder you went into finance.”

“What’s that mean?”

He plucked a potato chip off his plate. “Only that it’s hard to develop any people skills when those closest to you aren’t who they claim to be. You couldn’t know who to trust or when. Math doesn’t lie.”

It startled her to hear it distilled so simply. As the shock of his correct and swift assessment faded, a strange sense of peace settled over her. Not even her therapists had managed that so well. Something about Connor—so far nearly everything—put her at ease. Yes, she was wildly attracted to him, the kiss only emphasized that particular issue. But she genuinely liked him as a person and partner. A working partner.

“Nailed it,” she said. “Impressive.”

She ate a bit more, feeling her energy returning.

“Why are you afraid they’ll find you?” he asked.

She winced. “My boss wasn’t the first time I blew the whistle. I tattled as a kid, got an uncle sent to jail. My mom kept me around, but only as a tool to maintain her innocence in the matter.”

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