Slow Summer Burn: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance (7 page)

No
, his brain had said.
She’s not for you
. He’d learned young that rich women with big yachts and expensive diamonds were temptations best ignored. Townies were only curiosities to them, and he and his brothers kept far away from the pricey boats that sometimes docked in Star Harbor. But when he helped Cameron get back to her boutique and she pressed herself to him, wrapped her elegant little hand around his waist to stay dry under the umbrella, he just couldn’t resist.

He asked her out, partly for her and partly for himself, just to show her that he was man enough to do it. And then he kissed her. For
him
. And damn, it had felt good. Though in the back of his mind he knew he still shouldn’t want it—want
her
—he’d do it all again. In a heartbeat.

Even if he knew that their being together was a short-lived dream.

Because deep down, he knew she was from a different world. And a woman like her could never be happy with a man like him. At least, not for long.

Val finally got back to his boat, the beat-up old houseboat he called home at least part of the time. At one point or another, each of his brothers had lived with him on the vessel, and as cramped as the quarters were, at least he’d had company. Now, whenever Seb was in town he
was at Lexie’s place, Theo and Avery had just purchased a place of their own—a little cabin in the woods—and Cole was staying with Julie at her house out on the bluff. Experiencing a twinge of sadness that the boat was empty, he went down into his cabin to change. Peeling off his wet things, he set them over a clothesline he’d rigged in the tiny bathroom.

After he was dry and changed, he threw on the only rain jacket he could find, a thick, lined affair that was more suitable for fall than for summer. He removed his laptop from the safe in which he stored it, put it into a waterproof carryall, and tucked it under the jacket. Now fully armed for the weather, he stepped off his boat and walked down the boardwalk until he hit Main, then turned left and walked away from the harbor. The rain was still pouring, but not as hard as it had been coming down a few minutes earlier.

He could just as easily have worked on his boat—he had a secure wi-fi connection and a comfortable workspace—but he wanted to check in with his brother. Not only would he be able to give Cole the latest information on the prescription drug sting operation he and the Sheriff’s Department were conducting, but he could clue him in that bigger forces were at play. Plus, he wanted some hot coffee. He could have gotten it at the LMK, but he wasn’t really in the mood to be scrutinized by any Star Harborians. In good time, he made it to the Sheriff’s Department.

“Hey, Rhonda Lee,” Val said by way of greeting as soon as he crossed the threshold.

“Val Grayson,” the woman said with a huge smile. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Val said, returning her smile. Rhonda Lee Petrelli was Cole’s secretary and dispatcher, and though her poufy blond halo of hair and lineless skin belied her age, she’d been around as long as he could remember. She knew everyone’s dirty history—including his own—but kept her lips sealed. He liked that about her. “Bobby still enjoying retirement?”

“A little too much. He’s decided to build a new deck this summer. Don’t know what the man’s thinking. There’s a reason he went into accounting.”

Val tried not to laugh. Rhonda Lee’s husband was always taking up some kind of home improvement project, despite the fact that he was all thumbs when it came to construction. “So what’s going on today?”

“Got two deputies out in the field. Shift’s about to change, but you caught Cole at a good time. Just head on back.”

“Thanks. Give my best to Bobby, as always.”

She gave him another smile. “I’ll do that. He’s always glad to hear from you.”

Val walked around Rhonda Lee’s desk and entered through a door to the office. It had an open floor plan, with four large desks in the center of the room and tidy bookshelves lining the walls. Around the edges of the space lay the conference rooms and Cole’s office. Hank Jacobs, one of Cole’s trusted deputies, was at one of the desks talking on the telephone, and his resonant voice echoed through the room. He was obviously busy, so Val gave him a brief wave before walking through the big room and giving a rap on Cole’s door frame.

“Enter,” his brother said, his head down as he jotted something in a notebook. Even from behind the desk, Cole looked large and in charge.

“Don’t you even want to see who it is?” Val responded, bemused.

“Always know it’s you. I can tell by your knock.”

“And my footsteps?”

Cole finished what he was writing, shut the notebook, then looked up and grinned. “That too.” He gestured with his hand. “Have a seat. Tell me what’s up.”

Val settled into the chair in front of Cole’s desk and took the opportunity to examine his brother. A month ago as the authorities were closing in on Max Wright, Max shot Cole in the shoulder. Still, Cole looked like he was in good shape. He’d lost a bit of muscle mass in his arms due to the fact that he couldn’t hit the weight room with his arm in a sling, but he seemed well rested, even more so than before the shooting incident.

And Val would know. When Cole had stayed with him on his boat, Val heard his brother yell every time he woke up during the night—a symptom of the post-traumatic stress disorder he’d brought home from Afghanistan and worked hard to keep under control. Cole’s PTSD had intensified when he’d gotten involved with Julie Kensington, but once he’d accepted that he needed help and had gone back to see his shrink, things had turned around. Sure, his brother was still intense, but he was much less haunted. Now, when Cole smiled, his bright blue eyes smiled too—something that no amount of therapy could have accomplished. It was Julie who had worked her magic and gotten his brother living again.

“You’re looking good,” Val said, unable to keep from commenting.

Cole stared back intently. “You know why.”

Yeah, he sure did. Without warning, a vision of Cameron Stahl flashed through his mind, hitting him right in the gut. Just as quickly, he shoved it away. The thought of having a woman
of his own was one thing, but the aristocratic beauty was beyond his grasp. A guy could dream, but that’s all it was—a dream. And the sooner he got his desires back under control, the better.

Frowning, he returned to the task at hand: getting his brother up to speed on the sting operation. “The agents my team sent undercover are in place. One is posing as a pharmacist, and two are doctors. Your guy, Pete Thawley, is in deep as a pharmaceutical rep. He’s doing a good job so far. Max Wright wasn’t able to get them vetted by the top dogs, but he was able to get us the weak links to help slip them in.”

“So he’s earning out his deal, then?”

“Hardly. In my opinion, anyone who shoots my brother doesn’t deserve a deal. But Colin thought it was worth giving Max partial immunity in exchange for his help setting up the sting. There are bigger things at play now.”

Cole sat upright in his chair. “Are you telling me you’ve zeroed in on a potential lead?”

“Yes. I can’t tell you much because of its sensitive nature, but let’s just say we have one major target in sight. Even if we get enough evidence from the sting to take down the prescription drug operation, we’re going to want to wait until we have enough to take down this guy, too.”

“Big player?”

“You have no idea.”

“Let me guess—scandal, corruption, political fallout?”

“Something like that.”

Cole gave him speculative look. “Hmm …”

“Don’t even try to guess. It’ll get you—and me—in a whole lot of trouble.”

Within a split second, Cole was back to his usual professional self. “Can’t have that happening. I appreciate you keeping me in the loop. I’ll tell my guys. Pete’s out front, but Kip, Jason, and Hank are working their asses off behind the scenes. Do we have any kind of end in sight?”

Val sighed. “Not yet. But I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Good.”

“Can I work out of your office for the rest of the day?”

“Sure thing. I can get you set up in the small conference room. Would that suit you?”

“Just fine. I like it here. Only thing missing is good coffee.”

“Can’t beat Lexie’s, that’s for sure.”

“No way, no how.”

“Guest password for the wi-fi is on the table in there. Let me know if you have any problems.”

“Will do,” Val said, rising. “Catch you for a drink after work? Or are you still on those pain meds?”

“Quit taking them after a couple days. Made me groggy. Besides, I have other ways to ease the pain now,” he said with a grin. “So yeah, I can have a drink. We can walk down to the Nail at, say, eighteen hundred?”

“Sounds good.”

For the next four hours, Val immersed himself in work. After doing some maintenance work on his other active cases, he turned his focus to the drug operation. He interfaced with his team, then followed up with the FBI. He spent a couple of hours mapping out a plan of attack for the round-the-clock surveillance. It was tough going, but he loved it. Leading an operation was like putting together a particularly challenging puzzle; each piece needed to be placed just right or nothing else fit or made sense.
This
was why he did what he did. Because he craved the challenge. Craved the satisfaction of making the gears turn all together toward a common goal. Failure was not an option for him. Lives and communities were on the line, and he wouldn’t let anyone down.

Around five-forty-five, he emerged from the conference room, clear-headed but a bit bleary-eyed from staring at his computer screen for so long. That damned paperwork again. Thanks to his legal training, he was skilled at it, but it never became less annoying to do. Jason Ulner, a dark-haired deputy, was on desk duty now, and he gave the man a brief nod.

Cole came out of his own office. “Just finished up. Need anything before we go?” he asked.

“Nope,” Val said. “A cold beer sounds pretty good right about now.”

“You said it. Wish Theo and Seb were around.”

Val grunted as they walked into the front room. Rhonda Lee was still there, her huge head of hair bobbing as she explained something to a younger woman, who also sported a gargantuan blond bouffant.

“ ’Night, Rhonda Lee. ’Night, Betty. See you in the morning.”

“Who’s Betty?” Val asked as soon as they were outside. At some point, it had stopped raining, though there was still dampness in the air. The Sheriff’s Department was directly across from the Star Harbor Green, and the dark, rich smell of earth, stirred up by the heavy rain, wafted on the evening breeze.

“Rhonda Lee’s niece. Lives in Falmouth. Nice girl. She’s getting trained to be a dispatcher. We have someone working nights, but he’s not as good. As Rhonda Lee’s getting closer to retirement, she thought it might be smart to have someone ready to take over.”

Val nodded. “She must like you.”

“I treat my staff well,” Cole said simply.

They turned and began to walk down Main, toward the water. “Getting back to Seb—when’s he coming to open his new restaurant?”

“Saturday’s opening night, but he’s been scrambling to get everything ready. I don’t think he even has a name picked out yet. We’re all getting together on Thursday night to help with the setup. I won’t be able to do much in the way of heavy lifting, but I plan to do some painting.”

Val groaned. “This Thursday? Damn. Wish he’d told me.”

“What?” Cole said, eyeing him. “You got a hot date?” When Val pursed his lips together, Cole just blinked. “Holy crap. You
do
have a hot date! Who is she?”

Val just kept walking.

Rather than push him, Cole wisely shut his mouth.

They hung a right at the boardwalk. The harbor was beautiful tonight, the light fading over the horizon, clouds hanging low, that crackle in the air, the aftermath of a summer storm.

“Let me drop my laptop off at the boat.”

“Gotta lock up the Holy Grail, huh?” Cole said with a smile.

Val laughed. “Good one.” He
was
totally obsessed with the security of his gear, especially his laptop and his weapons, which if compromised would have far-reaching consequences.

Val secured his laptop onboard, then rejoined his brother on the pier. They walked down the boardwalk to the Rusty Nail, reaching it in a matter of moments, as it was only a pier away from where his houseboat was moored. The building itself was unassuming—a typical boardwalk structure, worn from the pounding it had received over the years from sea and
weather. The paint was faded and peeling, and the door, marked only by a small placard above the frame, looked like it had seen better days.

If you didn’t know what was inside, you’d never enter. Which, Val suspected, was just the way the proprietor, Andy Neiman, wanted it. Not that Andy was unfriendly—far from it. It’s just that he understood that locals would want a place to call their own. And in the Nail, he’d built just that.

Cole shot him a smile as he pushed open the door. Once inside, Val took in his surroundings. Royce Hogan, the town’s mayor, sat with his wife, Trina, in a booth off to the side. Someone was racking up the pool balls in the back room, and a few elderly fishermen sat at the polished wood bar. Other than that, the place was empty.

Cole walked up to the bar, Val right behind him.

“Ah, the eldest two Grayson brothers,” Andy said with a twinkle in his deep brown eyes. “Enjoy the storm this afternoon?”

Yeah, he’d enjoyed it all right. Enough to kiss a woman he had no business kissing but couldn’t seem to get off his mind. Yet he couldn’t exactly say that to Andy. Couldn’t tell him that he’d soaked himself to the bone trying to forget what he shouldn’t want, even as he knew he had to see her again. So he stayed silent and gave Andy a short nod.

“Worked through it,” Cole said. “Too much going on. Definitely need a break. What do you have on tap?”

“Decided to branch out a bit. Got one from California called Anchor Steam, which you might like. But of course I have the usual stuff, too.”

Val shrugged. “I’ll try the Anchor Steam, Andy. Thanks.”