Dead Right (Stillwater Trilogy #3)(19)
Author: Brenda Novak

He raked his fingers through blond hair that was a bit too long and beginning to curl at the ends. “They lost the rest.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He had to be kidding—about more than his luggage. He looked like a…a surfer. About six feet tall, he had icy blue eyes, a lean, rugged face and a great tan. Worse, the hint of beard covering his jaw made him appear too lazy to be cunning or perceptive. And his rock-hard body indicated he spent more time swimming in the ocean than sitting behind a desk.

“No joke,” he said. “But they told me they’d drive it to Stillwater as soon as they find it. Hopefully, it’ll get here sometime tomorrow.”

What have I done? She’d been expecting someone driven, maybe even ruthless. Someone capable of solving a mystery that had stumped Stillwater’s best and brightest for twenty years. Instead, she’d hired a beach bum with a guitar—for one thousand dollars a day!

“Right.” She barely managed to stifle a groan. He was wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt over another T-shirt, a pair of faded, holey jeans and…flip-flops.

Flip-flops! Frowning, she rubbed her forehead.

“I said they’d drive it out,” he repeated, watching her curiously.

“I heard you.”

He hiked up the computer bag he carried on one of his impressive shoulders. “So…what’s the problem?”

Dropping her hand, she decided to be honest with him. “Tell me your father or your older brother is here somewhere.”

One eyebrow, much darker than his sun-streaked hair, slid up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re too young,” she complained.

“Too young for what? I’m thirty-two. How old do I have to be?”

“Older than that. I’m thirty-six and I certainly don’t feel equipped to handle this…this mess. Besides, you’re too—” she motioned to his guitar “—God, you could pass for Keith Urban. I don’t need someone who’s drop-dead gorgeous. And I sure as hell don’t need someone who can sing. I need a P.I. who’ll take my problem seriously, who’s so dedicated and tenacious that he won’t give up, no matter what.”

His scowl darkened. “I liked the drop-dead gorgeous part, but I’m more offended than flattered by your other remarks.”

“I don’t care. This isn’t fun and games to me, Mr.—Hunter. See? Now that I’ve met you, I can’t even call you Mr. Solozano. Mr. Solozano would be your father.”

“I could go out and buy some wing-tip shoes, a magnifying glass and a trench coat. Would that help?” he asked sarcastically.

“So now you’re a comedian, too.”

“Should I have taken you seriously? How does my appearance preclude my ability to do my job?”

“Every available woman in Stillwater will be coming on to you, wasting your time—which is really my time, since I’ll be paying for it.” She couldn’t admit that she might be tempted to come on to him herself, that he’d be a distraction she didn’t need. Especially since she still wasn’t over Kirk.

“It doesn’t matter who comes on to me. I’m not interested.”

“On the phone you mentioned an ex-wife.”

“And now you know why.”

When she hesitated, he said, “So where do we go from here, Ms. Barker? Can you get past your attraction to me? Or do you want to sacrifice your retainer to compensate me for my trouble and send me home?”

Both questions were so shockingly blunt, Madeline didn’t know which to answer first. Money won out. “Sacrifice my retainer? Are you crazy?” she cried. “And I’m not attracted to you! I’m already involved.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

The fact that she’d just lied about being involved, of course. Not only was she flying solo at this point, she was beginning to miss the emotional and physical comforts a man could offer.

She swallowed hard. “You’re not attracted to me, are you?” If it was all one-sided—her side—she should be okay. She certainly wasn’t about to lose the five thousand dollars she’d given him.

It was his turn to hesitate. His gaze flicked over her a second time but quickly returned to her face. “I told you. I’m not interested in any woman.”

“Right. The ex.” She took a deep breath. “That’s good news.”

“I’m glad you’re happy.” He rubbed his hands. “So…are we on?”

“Let’s see how it goes this week,” she replied. “If you’re as good as you’re supposed to be, I should be able to tell fairly soon.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said dryly.

She started to lead him out, into the rain. “There’s one more thing.”

“I’m dying to hear it.”

Putting up her umbrella, she raised her voice against the rumbling motors and the security guard telling everyone to move along. “People where I live are very…conservative. If you alienate them, we won’t have a chance.”

“Why would I alienate them?”

“I’m just telling you that Stillwater isn’t California.”

He gave her a salute. “Consider me warned. Somehow I’ll keep my liberal self in check.”

A minute earlier, he’d said he wasn’t interested in her—or any other woman. But when she glanced back at him, she caught him checking out her behind. “I thought you weren’t interested,” she said.

He grinned. “Doesn’t hurt to look.”

Chapter Six

Hunter sat in the passenger seat of Madeline Barker’s economy car, watching the windshield wipers jerk across the glass and thinking that a woman driving a 1992 Toyota Corolla probably couldn’t afford him. “Your windshield wipers might actually work if you’d replace the blades,” he said.

She sent him an irritated look. “Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome.” Drumming his fingers on his knee, he cursed the moment he’d decided to come to the South. What was he doing here? He should be in Hawaii, sitting on the beach. But despite the rain in Tennessee and an unusual and slightly worrisome reception by his new client, Hawaii didn’t sound as appealing as it should have. He’d spent most of the last month on Oahu, taking pictures of an elected public official who’d flown his children’s babysitter there for a torrid affair. Without Maria, Hunter had no desire to go back so soon. What was the point? He wasn’t the type to lounge on the beach all day—not unless he was doing it for a reason, as with his last job, or he had someone with whom to share the sun and sand.