Page 13 of The Pretender

“The uncle.” Sounded like good ol’ Uncle Stephen had been busy.

“And your boss.”

Harris had been on the island less than a day and Kramer was the second person to raise the issue of Stephen’s payroll. Apparently the Wright family threw money at problems and people. Harris admitted he possessed many character defects but he didn’t get lured in by people who flashed money. If anything, that kind of entitled behavior made him more likely to liberate an item from a person’s home without them knowing. Taking art or an antique meant he never owed anyone a favor. He held the power.

“No, I was hired by the insurance company,” Harris said.

“Waste of time.”

Not the answer he expected. “Excuse me?”

Kramer threw out his free arm. “The island, the house, all the stuff here, belongs to Gabby. Why appraise anything? Just hand it over to her and be done.”

Interesting. Gabby might think no one believed in her innocence but Kramer sounded like a one-person cheerleading squad. Unlike Stephen, who managed to drop ten negative comments about Gabby in the ten minutes Harris spent alone with him, Kramer immediately rushed to her defense. If he thought she killed Tabitha or deserved to be punished, he sure hid it well.

Grumpy or not, the actions made Harris like the older man. “There are legal issues. There’s also the part about Gabby being disinherited.”

Kramer made a tsk-tsking sound. “Looks like you don’t know as much as you think you do.”

“I know about art.”

“Then you should stick to that.”

Yeah, Harris appreciated the other man’s style. Working around him was not going to be easy. “Is that a warning?”

“An observation.” Kramer lifted the rake’s spokes out of the grass. “But you’d be wise to follow it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

But Kramer was already walking away. He gave a wave over his shoulder. “You do that.”

Gabby debated venturing into a second discussion with Harris. The first one had her off balance. She’d gotten so good at ducking topics and engaging in subterfuge that when those go-to moves abandoned her, she got twitchy.

But the house wasn’t an option tonight and the guesthouse was off-limits, which left her with few refuges now that the sun had gone down. And he’d started a fire. She had almost no defenses against the famous Wright fire pit with its stone rock wall and submerged circle in the center of a special patio area built by the water’s edge.

Wishing she’d reached for a jacket, she wrapped her sweater tighter around her body and walked across the grass to the pit area. She didn’t have to announce her arrival because he watched every step.

The fire roared with life. He wore a zip-front sweater that molded to his arms, showing off every line. She’d never actually seen a muscle strain through clothing before but now she knew it was possible.

No way this guy sat at a desk valuing artwork all day.

The closer she got the more she could see. He had a bag of something on the bench next to him. The stick... and was that a marshmallow?

Ignoring seating protocol strangers usually followed and leaving a space, she sat down right next to him. The idea of yelling at him over a fire didn’t hold much appeal. “I’ve been watching you for the last few hours.”

He continued to twirl the stick as the edge of his marshmallow turned brown over the fire. “That sounds like a pretty boring day.”

“You have walked around the island and lingered around the outside of the main house. I’ve seen you by the water and at the boathouse.” Peeking in on him was no hardship. He moved with purpose. Long, sure steps that gobbled up the ground beneath him. Perfect posture and legs that went on forever.

She loved the way his pants balanced low on his hips, showing off his long torso. She didn’t know if he swam or rowed or played basketball, but whatever he did to earn a lean, muscular body like that, he should keep doing it becausedamn.

He looked at her and smiled. “You could have said hello.”

Uh-huh. He was missing her point. She guessed that was on purpose. “You didn’t go inside the house, Harris.”

“And...?” He went back to staring at his stick and toasting the marshmallow.

“Your job is to appraise antiques and artwork. We keep that sort of thing indoors.”

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