Page 9 of Evidence of Secrets

“She’s not for you.” Jake Summers had sidled up to Hank.

“What the hell does that mean?” Jake owned Neptune’s Navel Tiki Bar, close to Salt & Sea but on the marina side of the Riverwalk. Jake usually kept his opinions to himself. So why say something now? Was Jake interested in Laura himself?

But Jake was wrong. Laura was gorgeous, just his type.

Besides, Hank hadn’t been with a woman in a few days. It was past time to scratch that itch.

Jake’s blue eyes narrowed as he watched Laura at the bar. Then he turned to glare at Hank.

“It means Laura’s not a one-night stand,” said Jake. “She’s the kind of woman that wants to fall in love and have kids.”

Okay then. The one thing Hank knew about himself was that he loved one-night stands. Sure, he was a love ’em and leave ’em guy, and why not? He didn’t want to get married; that boat had sailed. He loved women and sex—especially sex—and always showed the women a good time. And he always stayed at their place and never more than a few days.

It was perfect—for him.

“How would you know?” Hank asked.

“Ah. A gentleman never tells,” said Jake, looking every bit the smug asshole he was sometimes. Hank resisted the urge to punch his lights out.

Laura intrigued him. She was a smart businesswoman who owned a successful bistro. Hank knew most of her friends; they were kind and down-to-earth. Something about her lithe body, chestnut-brown eyes, and mahogany brown hair spoke to him. She was about five-foot-eight, a perfect height for his six-foot-two height. Add the pouty lips and nice rack, and she was perfect.

Shit. He was a horndog through and through. Still, if he got the chance, he was asking Laura out. No—not if he got a chance. Hank didn’t get to where he was in life by being wishy-washy. He would ask Laura out soon. See where it led. It could be a one-night stand or several months. Who knew? Long-term? Not a chance.

Romance on his mind didn’t stop Hank from yawning. Over the years, he’d been at many fundraisers, and they were all the same.

Although this was the first one KnightGuard Security had organized.

The women’s shelter was a pet project for Sam Knight. He’d been at the shelter many times instructing women and kids how to protect themselves, and they were very appreciative.

It made him sick to his stomach to think of someone hurting another person who was weaker and vulnerable. Lord knows, he was familiar with that. He was that rich kid. The skinny kid with pimples. The kid with no self-confidence in elementary and middle school. And the bullies zeroed in on him.

Years later, here he was. Holding a whiskey in one hand, watching all the beautiful people socialize. Ice clinked in glasses, and soft piano music played in the background. People greeted each other, laughed, circulated to the next group, then repeated. Not him.

He came as a courtesy to Sam. But he didn’t have to mingle, hence the reason he was hugging the corner of Salt & Sea. It was the perfect corner, too, away from the bar in a little nook along with his own private tree. Hank noticed lots of tall, green plants and potted trees separating different areas of the interior. They gave the bistro an illusion of privacy, but it was still welcoming.

Hank saw Joe Harkin standing in another corner, watching his wife, Claire, work the crowd. Joe spotted him and gave a small chin up. Yep, the two of them were the life of the party, all right.

“Hors d’hoeuvre?”

Hank looked up quickly. He didn’t see the server approach him. Some bodyguard he was.

Apparently, Joe had noticed his surprise and smirked.

“Uh. Thanks.” Hank took the offered napkin and picked up some sort of tart. Thinly sliced gold, green and red tomatoes had been arranged in a circle. He popped it in his mouth and moaned. It was delicious. He tasted olives. Hank smacked his lips. There was a cheese base he couldn’t identify. Goat cheese, that was it! Clever.

He glanced at his watch. Another hour and he’d leave, whether or not the fundraiser was over. A cold beer and his balcony were calling. While relaxing there, he’d plan how to get together with Laura and see where that led. Hopefully, she’d go out with him.

CHAPTEREIGHT

Jaimie hustled out of the kitchen with a tray of phyllo triangles stuffed with crab. This was her fourth, no, fifth time refilling her tray. She’d eaten before coming tonight, but the scent of seafood, garlic, cheese, and basil made her stomach growl. The servers weren’t supposed to snack on the party food now, but after? After, they were invited to gorge on whatever was left. Jaimie noticed Laura was generous that way. Maybe she was too generous.

The fundraiser was in full swing, and she was grateful for her previous restaurant experience. How servers stood on their feet for hours, taking orders, schlepping a heavy tray full of meals out of the kitchen, filling water glasses, bringing alcoholic beverages, dealing with demanding customers and still smiling was beyond her. Going undercover was stressful enough.

Laura seemed to have everything under control, although a couple of times, Jaimie noticed a frown on her face when she talked to the chef, who was gesturing around the kitchen. She tried to get closer but still couldn’t hear what they were saying. It appeared to be bad news.

“Can I have a napkin?” A middle-aged woman stared at her and smiled. Jaimie handed her a napkin, and the woman reached for two of the triangles. Gah, she needed to keep her mind on her duties, not lurking around the room.

This crowd was a hungry bunch. The charcuterie trays were decimated, and another server brought them back to the kitchen to refill. The guests must have gone through much of what Laura ordered because the servers didn’t fill the returning trays with the expensive cheeses and meats like before. Jaimie wondered if that was what the chef talked to Laura about.

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