Page 28 of Colton's Last Resort

“Do I look like a politician’s son to you?”

“You could be the son of a shipping magnate. Or you could be an entrepreneur.”

“I knew I should’ve packed my sweater-vest.”

Defeated, she sat on the corner of her desk. “You’re not making this easy.”

He swallowed the inclination to apologize to her. Again.

Her chin snapped up. Her stare roamed his boots, his hair. As she perused him, it made him come to attention. “What’re you doing?” he asked, bracing himself for whatever thought bubble she’d conjured.

Prospects flashed across her face. They practically glittered. “When I first saw you, I thought you could be a rock star.”

“I can’t carry a tune.”

“You don’t have to,” she said. She crossed to him. “You’re not here to entertain. You’re here to get away from shows. Touring. The loud party atmosphere. You’re here to disconnect. Recharge. It’s a commonality many of our guests share, so you’d have a good jumping-off point for conversation.”

She was close enough he could see the beauty mark she’d tried to hide under her concealer. It lived, camouflaged, near the corner of her mouth. “And what band am I supposed to be from?”

“I don’t know. You could be a cover band, a good one that tours nationally. And you don’t have to be the front man. You could be a bass player. A drummer.”

“Maybe I just got out of rehab,” he muttered, his voice imbued with sarcasm.

“The people who know me will never buy that I’m dating an addict.”

“Speaking of people who know you,” he said, “Adam knows who I am. He won’t buy any of this.”

“Adam will have to know,” she agreed. “Josh saw you through a window two nights ago. If he remembers you, we’ll let him in on the scheme. If not, then I’ll tell him. I prefer not to.”

“Why?”

“Because he can be terrible at keeping secrets,” she admitted. “I love him, but he wears his heart on his sleeve. When would you like to start?”

They were really doing this—this fake dating thing? He took a long breath. “As soon as possible if I’m going to make headway.”

“Tomorrow morning, then. Be here at nine. We’ll have a champagne breakfast at Annabeth. That way, I can start introducing you as—”

“The boyfriend.” He shook his head. “If I saw you and me together, I wouldn’t buy it.”

“Not everyone’s a detective,” she said. “Most people take what they see at face value. They don’t analyze. If we play it off right...if we’re convincing...then you have free rein over Mariposa for the foreseeable future.”

“You’ll need to tell big brother,” he warned. “Tonight. He’ll need to play along, too. I have a feeling he won’t approve.”

“Let me worry about Adam.” She hesitated. “You should come earlier than nine. Can you be at my place at eight? To be convincing as a couple, we’ll need to establish history. Basic facts like where we met, how long we’ve been dating and so on.”

“Why not now?” he asked. Last time they’d been together like this, one-on-one, he’d been desperate to get away from her. Now the space between them was no longer a minefield of fresh-turned grief. It felt...warm and, yes, precarious. But he wasn’t alone. Here, with her, he wasn’t a victim to his thoughts and the self-blame that had plagued him since finding out Allison was gone.

Laura drooped like a flower without water. “I have a meeting tonight. It’s a family matter. My...father’s in town.”

Why did she pause before the wordfather? He still knew very little about the Coltons and Mariposa. He could use the time tonight to research. “Eight o’clock.”

“I’ll tell Roland you’re coming. You won’t have trouble getting in.” An indentation appeared between her brows.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t know how to say goodbye for a second.”

Amused, he wondered what path her thoughts had gone down. “No one’s looking. I think a handshake will do, Ms. Colton.”

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