fanned her temple, and she heard the humorless smile in his voice. “Can’t bullshit a bullshitter, darlin’.”
She realized she was squinting her eyes. You squint your eyes when you lie. She opened them wide. “I’m not.”
“So you’re asking me to believe Sally left you completely out of the loop on this one.”
“No.” Mel put her forehead to the door, a very weak part of her wanting to press her bottom back snug to his crotch, which was crazy. Crazy. “Yes.”
“Which is it?”
“No.” She had to tell him this much, he was going to find out anyway. And if she gave this freely, maybe he’d trust her enough to tell her what it was he needed with Sally. “Yes, I knew the deed wasn’t in the safe. No, I didn’t know why. I had just hoped it’d been misplaced, that’s all. And…”
“And…”
She let out a breath. “People might think the deed is still here. In Sally’s name.”
“People?”
“Employees.”
He went very still in surprise. “So no one knows what Sally did all those years ago? For ten years you thought you were working for her? Do you know how unbelievable that is?”
Yes. Yes, she did. “If your deed is real.”
“Oh, it’s real.” He spun her around, then held her still, looking at her for a long moment. “But what I want to know is, how a smart woman like you didn’t see through the crap.”
Wasn’t that just the question. Maybe because she’d been too busy keeping them afloat. Everyone here had counted on her. Still did. They were her family. And then there was the fact that she’d believed she’d been doing Sally a favor, Sally who’d given her everything. “The deed should have been here. We had no indication otherwise. And if your deed is legit, what took you ten years to show up?”
“You know my father died.”
“Yes.” The day Sally went after him, as a matter of fact. Bo would have been just eighteen. And alone. And, she thought, remembering how close he’d been with his father, undoubtedly devastated. “I was very sorry to hear it.”
His gaze met hers. “Despite what you thought of him?”
“I wanted him gone, not dead. What about your mother?”
“I’d been with Eddie since I was young.” There were memories in his gaze, unhappy ones, and her heart squeezed because she of all people understood unhappy memories.
He’d been alone. Eighteen and alone. She didn’t want to think about that, or how it softened her, not when she stood so close she could breathe him in, feel the strength of him in his every line. “What did you do?”
“I went into the military, and then to college. It wasn’t until I finally went home that I realized what had happened.”
“Which was?”
“That my father’s 1944 Beechcraft was gone, and so was his savings.”
Leaving him with nothing. She didn’t want to think about that, either. “And you assume Sally took both?”
“Not took. Conned.”
“Sally said your father conned her.”
“I’m going to be able to prove my story,” he said. “Can you?”
No. No, she couldn’t. “You have the quit deed. Possibly forged.”
“Not forged,” he said tightly. “And in any case, it’s not worth anything close to the Beechcraft and the half a mil savings.” He looked around derisively. “From what I see, this place is worth a fraction of what I lost.”
“So what do you plan to do?” she asked, feeling a bit wary.
“Oh, no,” he said. “Now you. Where’s Sally, Mel?”
She shook her head, reaching behind her for the handle. But he followed her out into the hall, and naturally, Ernest chose that moment to come back through with his damn cart, slowing at the midway point, watching them curiously.
At a long look from Mel, he sighed and kept moving, cart clanking. God. She had to get Bo out of here before he started waving that deed around. In spite of his saying otherwise, she didn’t trust him not to claim to own everything and everyone, inciting a general panic.
But the minute Ernest vanished around the corner, Al appeared, and by the look on his face, Mel knew Charlene had sent him to eavesdrop.
Damn it. North Beach Airport gossip could rival any small town in the country for fast-traveling news. Clearly, an APB had been put out. Get news on the stranger. With a frustrated sigh, she put her hands on Bo’s chest to shove him back into her office.
But as she already knew, the man couldn’t be budged unless he chose to be. Trying to choose for him was like trying to move a two-ton bull. A damned stubborn one. “In here,” she said with another useless push, exceedingly aware of the heat and hard strength of him beneath her palms as she listened to Ernest’s cart coming their way again. Crap. “Hurry—”
“Why, darlin’,” Bo murmured, bending his head so that his jaw brushed hers. “All you had to do was ask.”
Yeah, yeah. She followed him back into the office, watching over her shoulder to see who was looking, shutting the door to give them some privacy. “Now.” But one look at Bo had the words falling right out of her head.
He was unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing?” she asked weakly.
“You said hurry.” A wedge of sinewy, tanned skin appeared. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, exposing his chest, the defined pecs, the correlated ridges of his ribs, his belly—
“No.” She loved that spot on a man, so hard with strength yet so vulnerable, loved to put her mouth there—No. Concentrate! “Bo, I didn’t mean—”
His hands went to the buttons on his Levi’s.
Pop.
Pop.
“W-wait!” She forced her gaze up, up into his. “Seriously. I didn’t mean—” But at the laughter in his eyes she trailed off, her eye twitching. He was messing with her. And doing a damn fine job of it, too, standing there looking like sin on a stick. She was torn between the urge to kill him and wanting, with sudden, shocking violence, to gobble him up in one bite. It was so unfair that he looked as good as he did, that he sounded so yummy with that accent, that when he smiled, he looked even better. Where was the justice in that? She slapped her hands over her eyes. “Get your clothes back on!”
He let out another soft laugh that had her every erogenous zone doing a tap dance. But she had great control, and she waited until she heard rustling before lowering her hands, telling herself she was relieved that he’d gotten his shirt back on. Yep, very relieved. “And whatever
