antique bookcase on loan from Angel’s Rest that she used to display her line of lotions. Despite being engrossed in the conversation, something—some inexplicable change in the room’s atmosphere—caused her to glance over her shoulder.
Zach Turner had just walked into Heavenscents’ open house.
TWELVE
Zach couldn’t get Savannah Moore off his mind.
From the moment she’d fled from him and Reflection Point two nights ago, she’d haunted him. After nearly a decade in law enforcement he knew that 98 percent of the time you could count on a guilty person to claim innocence. He could count on one hand the number of times he wondered if the perp might actually be telling the truth.
Crazy at it sounded, he believed Savannah’s story. Was it good intuition or old-fashioned horniness?
Well, horniness certainly was a factor, but either way, he guessed, it didn’t matter. The fact remained that he did believe her and he wanted to get to know her better. A lot better. The woman appealed to him like no woman had in a very long time.
She was like a scrappy little terrier, a survivor who didn’t take crap from anyone. He felt sorry for her, and he suspected she’d hate it if she knew it. Betrayed by a lover. Framed by the man for a crime she didn’t commit? He’d like five minutes alone in a room with the son of a bitch.
A son-of-a-bitch cop. That really burned him. Dirty cops held top billing on his shit list.
Kyle Vaughn. Detective Kyle Vaughn, Zach had discovered. He’d testified against her at her trial. The sorry bag of crap. Zach didn’t know where this thing he had with Savannah would go, but having a dirtbag ex in the same profession as his own certainly wouldn’t help matters. She obviously held his job against him. Barney Fife my ass.
Zach intended to find out more about her case—he’d requested transcripts of the trial, for one thing—but first he thought he’d take the opportunity to investigate this business venture of hers … and score a glass or two of that fancy champagne Jack Davenport was passing around. When Gabi arrived at the sheriff’s office nearly late for her shift and babbling about Savannah’s success, he headed for Heavenscents.
He wanted to see Savannah in her glory. Hell, he wanted to see Savannah, period.
She was talking to the Brands when he walked in, and he enjoyed an unobserved moment of watching her. She looked gorgeous in a clingy red sweater and high-heeled shoes. She looked happy, too, and the light in her countenance put a smile on his face.
“Well, well, well,” Jack Davenport said, offering him a glass of champagne. “I recognize that look. So, you have a thing for our sexy soap maker?”
Zach shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m considering having a thing.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised after watching you at softball that night. I was a little afraid that you’d have to arrest yourself for violating the burn ban.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The two of you sent enough sparks flying around that I thought you might set the field on fire. So … what gives?”
Remembering the collision on the field, Zach gave a crooked grin. Maybe she sensed the men’s interest, because at that moment Savannah glanced over her shoulder and met his gaze. He lifted his champagne to her in a silent toast. She frowned and returned to her conversation.
“She’s not sure she likes me.”
“Woman has some sense.”
“Ass.”
Jack sipped his champagne. “She has spirit, too. That always makes a woman more interesting.”
“I agree.”
“I think you should go for it—if only because it would put an end to the matchmaking schemes of my wife and her friends.”
“That would be a good thing. I swear this town gets more like a reality TV show every day.” Zach was distracted by the sight of Ali Timberlake entering the room carrying a platter of chicken kabobs. “Those look good. I haven’t had dinner yet.”
“You should see if she’s got any of the crab cakes left. They’re spectacular.”
Zach filled a plate—including crab cakes—then spent a few minutes looking around Savannah’s shop. He liked what she’d done with this Victorian. Her displays were inviting, and she’d arranged them in such a way as to display a lot of stuff without having the place feel stuffy. But honestly, ten dollars for a ball of soap?
Judging by the way she appeared to be racking up the sales, she must know what she was doing. Gabi had admitted to spending over a hundred dollars tonight. Of course, his new