LITMIR.BIZ

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shrugged. “Sure. Can’t see any reason I’ll need a double.” He glanced at Kate, and the first semblance of a smile lifted his lips. “At least not for the first week.”

      Her mouth dropped open, but nothing quick or smart emerged.

      He faced Vanessa. “Where do you recommend I go for breakfast tomorrow?”

      Concern flitted into her gaze. “You haven’t enjoyed the breakfast here?”

      “It was fine, but I want to venture out. Discover a bit more about this little town.”

      Little town? Kate shifted. The derogatory way he referred to the Cove niggled.

      “Well, there are some good cafes on the seafront, a bakery if you want some ridiculously delicious pastries and superb coffee. Other than that, the Christie offers full English, but they’re kind of pricey.”

      He sipped his beer. “Great. Thanks.”

      Kate drained her drink. Suspicion whirled inside her about this man and his motives for being here. Mac Orman brimmed with confidence. His whole character screamed that he knew where he was going and what he was doing.

      Yet, something about his cold gaze told her he wasn’t quite as self-confident as he made out. If his interest in the fund-raiser was anything to go by, he could be the caring type.

      He nodded toward his empty glass. “Could I get another one of those?”

      Vanessa picked it up. “Sure.”

      “And one for the lady.”

      Kate flinched. “Me?”

      He nodded, his gaze steady on hers.

      Damned if the man thought he could faze her. She lifted her chin. “A rum and Coke would be great. Thanks.”

      Vanessa grinned. “You’re so funny, Kate. As transparent as a sheet of glass.” She shook her head. “I’ll go grab those drinks.”

      Kate shot a glare at Vanessa’s turned back before taking a deep breath and facing Mac. She forced her mind to the matter at hand rather than wondering if he was ever going to take off his leather jacket so she could see what was underneath. “What sort of work are you in?”

      “Work?”

      “You said you were here on business.”

      “Business, yes. Work, no.”

      Kate frowned. “What does that mean?”

      “It means I have business with someone.”

      The band finished, and he clapped, his gaze shrewd as he stared at the trio. “Are they local?”

      Perplexed and more than a little frustrated by his change of subject, Kate glanced toward the band. “No, but they play here every other month, or thereabouts.” She studied his profile, her unease intensifying. “So, this someone is who brought you here...to this little town?”

      Vanessa slid their drinks on to the bar. “Right. I’ll leave you two alone. I need to get some work done before that husband of mine bursts a blood vessel.” She leaned closer to Mac and lowered her voice. “He’s always a little overly suspicious of the good-looking guys who come in here. He’s got a bark like a Doberman, but he’s as soft as a teddy bear. Just don’t tell him I told you that.”

      Vanessa walked away, and Kate studied Mac’s turned cheek.

      “To answer your question...” He picked up his drink. “I’m looking for someone.”

      Inexplicable protectiveness wound through her for the people in the Cove. “Who?”

      “That’s not really something you need to know.”

      Her senses screamed with warning as he faced the band once more, his jaw tight as he watched them pack up their gear.

      “It’s personal.”

      His clipped, no-nonsense tone stopped further words from spilling from her too often unstoppable lips. She snapped her mouth closed.

      The atmosphere was strained between them, and her mind raced as she ran her study over his neck and shoulders. Would he bring trouble to town? Looking to wreak some kind of vengeance? To right a wrong? He certainly bore the expression and stance of someone incredibly pissed about something.

      Her best friend, Izzy, often accused Kate of running full-throttle and letting her overactive imagination leave her sanity behind. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the foreboding running through her. Her past made her suspicious. She didn’t like people making judgments. Assuming things when they had no idea. But she was doing exactly that with Mac. He wasn’t to blame for her ex. For her mother. For her sister.

      She drained her drink, wincing as she swallowed. She needed to get out of here before Mac said anything else. She needed to leave the guy the hell alone. “Okay, well, it was nice to meet you. I’d better get home. I have a full day tomorrow.”

      “Sure.” He kept his gaze averted and took another drink. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

      “Maybe you will.”

      With all the poise she could muster, Kate slipped from her stool and brushed past him, deftly weaving through the thinning crowd and out the door.

      She was known throughout the Cove for her lightning wit and her savvy comebacks, not to mention her no-holds-barred fund-raising strategies. Yet tonight, this stranger had reduced her to a suspicious crime-busting detective at best...or a dumbass, suspicion-fueled idiot, at worst.

      She pulled her phone from her purse and texted Izzy.

      Just met a man who could be here to cause one hell of a stir for someone in the Cove. I’ll pop by the gallery tomorrow morning xx

      * * *

      MAC RETURNED TO his room, but once inside, he found everything annoying, even the window’s sea view. He tipped his head from side to side. The tension in his neck and shoulder muscles indicated sleep would be a long time coming.

      The feisty woman, with her dark brown eyes and thick, curly brown hair, had been a welcome diversion, but now she’d gone, guilt had returned for the reason he was here and the task he had ahead of him. Kate Harrington’s questioning had only increased his determination to confront Marian. The doubts he was doing the right thing by telling her about the man her son had been, would not make Mac hesitate any longer.

      He strolled to the window and opened it, breathing in the cold night air. Restless, Mac stared at the remaining three or four cars visible in the lamplight as the bar emptied for the night. His conscience pulled at him to call his mother. It wasn’t unusual for days to pass without him calling her, weeks, if he was on the road with some band or other. But if he called her now, her instincts would tell her something was up.

      The last thing he wanted was to rouse his mother’s suspicions.

      He closed the window and walked to the desk. He retrieved one of the envelopes and shook its contents on to the bed.

      A photograph of his father landed face up and Mac picked it up. His dad smiled at the camera, one arm slung comfortably around Mac’s mum’s shoulders and his other hand resting lightly on Mac’s older sister’s waist. His fourteen-year-old self stood tall beside her, his chest puffed out and his first guitar proudly held in front of him.

      Happy times. Good times.

      His smile faltered as loss snagged his chest.

      Times that would never be repeated now his father was dead. The futile hope his mother and father might one day reunite crushed. According to the dates in his father’s notes, he hadn’t yet started his search for his birth mother when this picture was taken. And it had taken many years after before he’d finally found her.

      Exhaling, Mac dropped the letter, damning the cardiac arrest that had taken his father just three months before. Walking back to the desk, he picked up

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