silver hoop earrings and a long silver necklace.
A peacock. Her unique, colorful ensemble—topped off with purple laces on her left shoe and neon green laces on her right—reminded him of a beautiful peacock with its feathers spread in all their glory. That made him want to smile, which only made him irritated. She’s a suspect, Colton. Get a grip.
“Just checking the place out,” he said, seeing no benefit in giving up his cover just yet, not without knowing where Eddie was and whether she’d warned him. “I was curious what was down this way.”
“Right. Was there a problem with your room at the inn? Is that why you followed me?”
The accusation in her tone, in every line of her body, swept away his earlier amusement. She was the one accepting stolen property at best; in league with the robbery ring at worst. And she was acting as if he was in the wrong? He was tempted to take his handcuffs out of his back pocket and put an end to this charade right now. But there was too much on the line to let his anger, justifiable or not, rule his actions. He needed to play it cool, try to calm her fears and, if possible, make her trust him.
He stopped directly in front of her. “Okay, you caught me. I didn’t actually go into my room. I changed my mind and thought I’d explore the area first. And when I noticed you going in here, I figured—” he smiled sheepishly “—I hoped, maybe I could catch you and convince you to have breakfast with me.” He braced an arm on the wall beside her and grinned. “After all, you did ask me to take off my clothes. Sharing a meal is nothing compared to that.”
Her eyes widened and her face flushed. Good. He’d knocked her off balance. And hopefully deflected her suspicions. If he could get her to believe he was interested in her, then maybe she’d think his earlier questions had been an excuse just to talk to her.
It wasn’t as if he really had to pretend. He was interested in her. If he wasn’t on the job right now, and didn’t believe she was mixed up in criminal activity, there’d be no question about his intentions—he’d pursue her like a randy high school teenager after his first crush. Because Silver Westbrook was exactly the kind of woman he liked—beautiful and smart. And unlike his last fling, Camilla, Silver was a Florida native. And she was blue-collar, like him. On the surface, there didn’t seem to be any reason to keep them apart.
Except for a little thing called grand theft.
“That is why you came in here, right?” he said. “To eat?”
Now she was the one looking as though she was worried that he’d caught her in a lie.
“Of course,” she said. “Yes, I’m here for breakfast. Starving. Let’s find a table.”
She practically ran to one of the empty tables near the bar, and Colton followed at a more sedate pace, trying not to let it bother him that she seemed so anxious to get away from him. Man, he really needed to focus here—on the case, not on the way she made his blood heat as he sat across from her.
They quickly ordered. Just a few minutes later, a brawny man in his mid-to late-thirties helped the overworked waitress by bringing Colton and Silver’s food to their table. Faded tattoos decorated his massive arms, intricate patterns of loops and swirls that meant nothing to Colton. But the ink did—it looked homemade, like the kind convicts used in prison.
Colton nodded his thanks while he studied the man’s face, automatically comparing it to the wanted posters back at the station. The cook nodded in acknowledgment, his dark eyes hooded and unreadable as he returned to the kitchen through a doorway behind the bar without saying a word.
“Who is that guy?” Colton asked.
Silver shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve ever talked to him. I think his name’s Cato. He’s one of the new guys from out of town that Freddie hired to help out with our little tourist boom.”
“Freddie?”
“Fredericka Callahan. She owns the place.” She waved toward one of the larger tables on the opposite side of the room. “She’s the elderly redhead arguing with the elderly bald guy.”
“Arguing with a customer doesn’t seem good for business.”
“Labron Williams isn’t a customer. He owns Gators and Taters on the other side of the street, a little farther down toward the B and B. I’m pretty sure he came in here just to gripe with Freddie.”
“Gators and Taters?”
“Uh-huh. They like each other.”
“The gators?”
She rolled her eyes. “Freddie and Labron.”
He glanced toward the rather odd-looking pair. Freddie was built like a linebacker. Labron would probably blow away in a stiff wind and was a foot shorter than her. And while Freddie’s unnaturally bright shock of red hair was rather loud, it had to compete with Labron’s bald pate that reflected like a headlight beneath the bright fluorescents overhead, as if he’d just applied a thick coat of wax and polished it until it shone.
“But they look like they want to kill each other,” Colton said.
“That’s because they like each other.”
She casually took a sip of water as if nothing about their conversation seemed strange. Then again, maybe to her it didn’t.
“Why did you ask about Cato?” She set her water glass down and pinned him with her silvery gaze.
Colton was still trying to figure out why two mature adults who “liked” each other would face off like a pair of pit bulls over a bone. But Silver’s question about the cook had him focusing on what was important—not blowing his cover as a tourist.
“No reason. I was just curious. He doesn’t seem to fit in with everyone else around here.” He waved toward the waitress. “Neither does she. Too young. Did Freddie hire her from out of town, too?”
“No. That’s J.J., Jennifer junior. She’s lived here all her life. She’s J.S.’s daughter, on summer break from college. She graduates next semester from the University of Florida. A year late, unfortunately, but at least she hung in there.”
The young waitress was old enough to have already graduated from UF? Thank God. Now he didn’t feel quite as bad for noticing her figure. “J.S. Jennifer...senior?”
“No, silly. Jennifer Sooner. She used to live closer to town but just built a cabin about five miles southwest of here, not too far from Croc Landing.”
Croc Landing. Why would someone name a place Croc Landing around here when there were only a few hundred crocodiles in south Florida and probably a million alligators? He decided not to ask. No telling where that conversation might lead.
He took a bite of eggs, and was pleasantly surprised at how fluffy and delicious they were. Maybe ex-con Cato had learned some cooking skills while he was in prison.
As the two of them ate, the silence between them grew more and more uncomfortable. For his part, he kept thinking about the case and was annoyed that the intriguing, sexy woman across from him chose to be a criminal. For her part, he supposed, she was trying to figure out why he was here and who he really was.
By the time J.J. arrived with the
