LITMIR.BIZ

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Nigel had been clear he didn’t want to start the contract until Wednesday morning. He still didn’t understand why the man had hired a security group to protect him while he traveled if he didn’t want to use them as he traveled to Maine. He’d been cautious enough to hire Orion after he’d earned a few nasty anonymous letters at work. He clearly had felt threatened. Oliver didn’t think about it too much, though. He’d learned the hard way that most of the upper class was stubborn, and arguing with them did little to change their minds.

      Oliver tried not to dwell on the past as he arrived at the airport and then boarded his plane.

      Nigel Marks had been transported by way of his private jet; Oliver’s long legs were pressed against the back of a snoring man’s chair in coach. When he finally landed, stretched and turned on his cell phone, he wasn’t in the mood for the voice mail from Nikki.

      “Oliver, I received a call from the security guard who watches Nigel’s house. I think his name is George? Anyways, he found a woman lurking around early this morning and had the cops come pick her up. They are holding her on trespassing and potentially breaking and entering. George didn’t give me all of the details. He seemed too excited. I already talked to Nigel. He’s actually at work in the next town over and will be delayed until later this afternoon. He liked the idea of you going to talk to her to see if she’s a threat. Call me after you do.” She didn’t say goodbye. She was in business mode. Nikki the boss, not Nikki the friend.

      He hung up, aggravated.

      “Great,” he grumbled, making his way to baggage claim. “Not even in town and already having problems.”

      The town of Mulligan—a name that Oliver found humor in—was thirty minutes away from the airport via one dust-covered SUV. Oliver hated rentals. Due to the company’s track record, no agent was offered the rental insurance that was an option with each vehicle. In his line of work, there was a high chance they would receive damage in some form. Oliver knew from experience the rental companies were a pain to deal with when that happened, and as team lead, he was the one who dealt with it. The man he’d rented the car from had taken his sweet time passive-aggressively warning Oliver about how it would be unwise to bring it back in anything less than pristine condition. Every pothole he bumped through made him cringe.

      Thinking of the uptight man only dampened his darkening mood. He mentally ran through a list of questions he would ask Nigel Marks’s intruder as the vehicle’s GPS directed him to Mulligan’s police department. It wasn’t until he was nearing Main Street that his phone blared to life.

      “Quinn,” he answered, pressing the speaker button.

      “It’s Nikki.” There was no mistaking the annoyance in her voice. “I wanted to warn you that our intruder is a private investigator.”

      “A private eye?”

      “Yep. I finally got the chief on the phone, and he said she’s a local. And she’s feisty. Try to figure out why she was snooping around, but don’t make her too mad. If she’s a local, it might make the next three weeks unpleasant.”

      “Okay. Don’t tick her off. Tread lightly. Yada yada.”

      “The sheriff also made a point to warn me not to let her name fool you.”

      Oliver raised an eyebrow to no one in particular. “Her name? What is it? Candy? Bunny?”

      Nikki laughed. “No, even better. Darling.”

      Oliver almost swerved off of the road.

      Before he could stop himself, the image of a woman popped into his head. Dirty-blond hair, round green eyes, a button nose and a set of soft, curvy lips.

      “Come again?” he asked. He was already certain he’d heard Nikki wrong.

      “Her name is Darling. Darling Smith.”

      A silence followed before Oliver found his voice again. “I hate to say this, but I can almost guarantee she’s already pissed at me.”

      * * *

      FOOTSTEPS SOUNDED FROM the stairs, bringing Darling out of her haze of absolute annoyance. Derrick had been coming down a few times each hour to talk her ear off. She wished Nigel Marks’s lackey would hurry up and question her. Anything was better than staying any longer in the mildew-scented cell. As the steps got closer, she ducked her head and rubbed her eyes. She didn’t think she could take another round of Deputy Derrick.

      “If you’re going to keep bothering me, the least you could do is bring me a coffee,” she called when the footsteps stopped outside of the bars.

      “Well, I haven’t been in town long, but I’m sure I could find some somewhere.”

      Darling’s heart skipped a beat. Slowly she raised her head to look at the new speaker. She could only stare.

      Out of all of the town jails in the world, Oliver Quinn had picked hers to make a grand appearance in.

      It had been almost eight years since she had seen him, yet she recognized him instantly. Brushing six feet, the twenty-eight-year-old had broad shoulders and a stocky but muscular build, giving him the look of a well-toned soccer player. His blond hair was cut short but not too short, still covering the top of his forehead with a golden swoop. His amber-colored eyes and ridiculously soft-looking lips only added to the attractive angles of his tanned face. Not to mention a jawline that simply begged to be touched. For a moment Darling wondered why she ever had ill feelings toward the man who looked like an angel. But then, all at once, she remembered not only who he was but also what he had done.

      No matter how handsome he was, Oliver Quinn had crushed her heart. A fact Darling wouldn’t forgive or forget anytime soon.

      “Miss Smith, this is the security agent Nigel Marks sent,” Deputy Derrick said, coming up behind Oliver. “His name is—” He stopped, noticing Darling’s deer-in-headlights stare. “You okay?”

      Oliver, with a small smile attached to his lips, was about to interject, but Darling found her voice. Though she had to tamp down several less-than-pleasant responses.

      “Deputy Arrington, this is Oliver Quinn,” she said, standing. “We used to make out in my father’s Ferrari.” Derrick raised his eyebrow before looking at Oliver.

      “What can I say? Fast cars and pretty girls equal a winning combo in my book,” Oliver shot back with an easy laugh. It was not the response she had expected, but Derrick thought it was funny enough. When Darling didn’t show signs of joining in on their shared mirth, the deputy sobered.

      “Do you want me to stay down here during the questions?” Derrick asked her directly. They might not have had the best romantic relationship, but they did consider each other friends.

      “I can handle this one,” she answered. It earned another little laugh from Oliver.

      “When you’re satisfied she isn’t a threat, let me know,” Derrick said, turning to leave.

      “She isn’t a threat. You can let her out now.” Oliver moved aside and motioned to the lock. Derrick and Darling exchanged a confused glance.

      “You don’t want to question her?” Derrick asked.

      “I do, but unfortunately, I have to get back to work.” He looked at her. “I was thinking we could pick this up tonight?”

      Alarm bells as loud as the Monday-morning trash pickup rang in her head.

      “Like on a date?” she blurted, heat rushing to her cheeks.

      Oliver gave off another short laugh. “More like catching up with a few pointed questions concerning my client,” he said. Then, when she was about to decline fiercely, he added, “I need to make sure I was correct in saying you aren’t a risk. If you are, my client will press charges.”

      Both men looked at her, waiting for an answer.

      If Oliver was the only thing that kept her from receiving the potential wrath of Nigel Marks,

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