one door open to reveal a full-length mirror on the inside panel. Complimentary padded hangers dangled on the rack inside. Stems of flowers flowed out of crystal vases on the dresser, the cut glass shooting sunshine into his eyes. Irises and hydrangeas blessed the room with their sweet, earthy scents.
He couldn’t remember what he’d expected. Something more feminine. Chintz or pastels, something out of a Pottery Barn catalog...but certainly not this. A sense of comfort came over him—swift, almost foreign. “It’s...perfect.”
Small dimples dug into her cheeks as she smiled. “I’ll let you settle in. When you’re ready, I’ll give you a tour and explain mealtimes and other activities.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Savitt,” she said as she walked around him to leave.
Instinctively, his hand reached up to brush her arm. At his touch, she froze, her face tipped close underneath his. Inches hovered between his lips and hers.
“Please,” he murmured, hardly able to grind the words out. “Call me Cole.”
An uncertain grin peaked the corners of her lips. His eyes drifted to them. A long, seductive chain heated and coiled, winding from the center of his torso around his navel.
She closed her eyes, breaking the connection and shaking her head as if to clear it. “Downstairs,” she said again. “I’ll see you downstairs.” And retreated.
When she shut the door behind her, Cole dropped his bag to the floor and blew out the breath he’d unknowingly been holding under her gaze. It wasn’t strategy or anything other than the blood he felt humming too closely to the surface that had made him want to lean over and taste that sweet, smiling mouth.
Damned if that was the way he was going to go about this errand. His job was to find out if the owner of Hanna’s had any investors and what her financial situation was. He wasn’t going to sink to Tiffany’s level and use the attraction he felt simmering between himself and Briar to get the information he needed. He’d bring out the detective he’d been before his life had gone to smithereens to get what he needed out of her.
And, no. The detective slumbering inside him didn’t think that kissing the innkeeper was a wise way to initiate his under-the-table investigation of Hanna’s Inn. As pretty as Briar Browning was...after Tiffany’s complete and utter betrayal, there was no way he’d risk entering even a harmless flirtation.
CHAPTER TWO
BRIAR CAUGHT HERSELF thinking far too deeply about the stranger in the bay suite. Especially after he chose to forgo lunch in the dining room and took off with a roar on his Harley.
As far as she could tell, Cole Savitt was a middle-aged man with no wedding ring, and apparently he carried all he needed for two weeks in a single backpack.
And when he’d taken off his sunglasses and she got a gander at the pain riddling his dark eyes, her heart reached out to him unequivocally. And...his broad shoulders and trim torso fit his leather riding jacket really well, too.
She cleared her throat and gave herself a mental shake. Damn her heart. It’d always readily reached out to the wounded.
There was no doubt in her mind Cole Savitt was a wounded man. But that kind of information was above and beyond what she needed to know about her guest. All she had to do was make his two weeks at Hanna’s as pleasant as possible. In the year she’d worked here, she had never failed to please anyone under the inn’s roof.
She hadn’t offered more than breakfast in bed to any guests, either, and she wasn’t about to start now.
Too much else to worry about.
In addition to Hanna’s Inn, Briar owned the adjoining property. At two stories, the building was painted white to match the inn. It held three shop spaces in addition to a roomy apartment on the back half of the second-floor interior. She rented the living space to her cousin, Olivia Lewis, who managed the adjacent first-floor bayside bar, Tavern of the Graces.
Briar leased the street-side shop space to Adrian Carlton, single mother and proprietor of Flora, Fairhope’s finest floral shop. Above it, the third commercial space sat on the second level, overlooking South Mobile Street and had been empty for years. Thankfully, someone had finally taken notice.
As Briar stood aside, listening to the clack of heels over tile, a potential investor, Roxie Honeycutt, strolled slowly around the room, doing her final walk-through. The woman had been eager to sign the lease and institute Belle Brides—a bridal boutique that would house the woman’s own line of bridal couture. But Briar had insisted on the final formality.
Roxie sighed, whirling to face her. She looked utterly chic in a strapless summer dress the color of money and matching peep-toe pumps. “I said it once, I’ll say it again. It’s absolutely perfect.”
Briar held back a sigh of her own, one of immense relief. “I had an exterminator give it a once-over. No termites or other pest problems. Though I wish I’d had the time to give it a fresh coat of paint.”
“Oh, the color will change, anyway,” Roxie explained, waving a hand. “I’m thinking pink. With vintage white mirrored accessories. Typical, maybe. But I advertise my gowns on a red-based pink backdrop and it really makes the designs pop.”
“I’m sure you’ll make the space look fabulous.” She shook Roxie’s hand. “Welcome to the building.”
Roxie beamed, her commercial-straight teeth as perfect as her Victoria Beckham coif and cornflower-blue eyes. “You’ve just made me the happiest woman this side of the Mississippi. Opening my own shop has been a dream for so long, I can hardly believe I’m finally doing it.”
Dreams, Briar thought. It had been so long since she’d contemplated her own, she could hardly remember them. They had slipped through her fingers so quickly, she was no longer sure what she wanted. “When will you get started?”
“I’m hoping to open before July, just in time for the big holiday rush. So as soon as possible.”
“Well, if you need any assistance at all the other girls and I will be more than happy to help you settle in,” Briar said. “Shall we sign and make it official?”
As they stepped out, Briar locked the dead bolt while Roxie stood back, eyeing the shop face. “I had a bit of a brainstorm last night. I never sleep when I’m excited. Drives my fiancé, Richard, to insanity, me pacing up and down the halls at all hours. If you’re up for it, I think we could come up with a package deal.”
Briar leaned against the rail overlooking the small parking lot. “How so?”
“On top of designing, I’m a licensed wedding coordinator. I plan ceremonies, receptions, book caterers, photographers, venues, florists, etc. What I was thinking is we each shave a percentage off our prices for my couples—offer them my services and attire along with your honeymoon suite at a discounted rate.”
“Have you thought about adding Flora to the package? Adrian’s done weddings, and her bridal arrangements are divine.”
Roxie held up a discerning finger. “And don’t forget the Tavern. I love that wide veranda on the back. It’s just big enough for a reception space. With the right lighting, trimmings and that amazing natural backdrop of the bay, it’d be breathtaking.”
“I like it,” Briar admitted. Something buzzed beneath her skin. Something that felt an awful lot like possibilities. Could this be what the inn needed to stay afloat? “You should discuss it with the others.”
“We’ll all have to sit down for drinks sometime this week,” Roxie said as she descended the steps to her waiting Lexus. “Who knows? This could be a lucrative venture for all of us.”
The wild roar of an engine snagged their attention. Briar’s stomach fluttered as Cole Savitt zoomed in on his motorcycle, coming to an abrupt halt under the magnolia.
As