Busted (Promise Harbor Wedding) - By Sydney Somers Page 0,38
town the second he knew he had a shot of getting in to the NHL and had hardly looked back as far as she knew, returning only a few times since high school graduation.
Nothing good could come from giving in to a silly crush on a guy itching to leave Promise Harbor behind all over again.
Creak.
Her eyes flew open, but she didn’t bother to move an inch. “Another felony to add to the list, I see.”
Lounging against the doorframe, Jackson propped one arm overhead, a key in his hand. “Coach still hides his spare key under the mat. Didn’t think people still did that.”
“So you decided to let yourself in?”
“Well, I knocked first.” He crossed to the radio on the ledge by the window, and turned the volume down. “Guess you didn’t hear me. Funny how that works.” His gaze roamed the bubbles barely hiding her from view.
She resisted the urge to sink lower in the tub. Barely.
“Plus,” he continued, “I had hoped to catch you in the shower. This is actually much better.” He grinned.
“Out.”
Grabbing a chair, he turned it around backward and straddled it. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Do the words time and place mean anything to you?”
His only response was a lazy once-over, his attention lingering just a beat longer at where her breasts were buried in bubbles.
“You need to go.” It was a pointless demand, and she knew it. Everything about the plain white T-shirt, faded jeans—the knees almost worn out—and the arms crossed over the top of the chair said, When I’m good and ready.
“We need to stay together.”
“No.”
“It’s a mutually beneficial situation.”
Hayley snorted.
“Just while I’m still in Promise Harbor.”
“Absolutely not.” When his gaze fell to her chest, she realized she’d risen a few inches above the bubbles. She slid back down, sloshing water over the edge of the tub. “No,” she repeated, more firmly this time. God, she had enough on her plate without throwing a fake boyfriend into the mix.
“Would you reconsider if I told you two women harassed me on the way over this morning?”
“That’s just awful,” she said in mock sympathy. She looked over the side of the tub in search of a towel.
“C’mon, Hayls. You owe me after last night.”
“Shit. I really did fry a few of your brain cells, didn’t I?”
“Are you going to make me beg?”
Her cell phone rang, saving her from answering Jackson. Unfortunately for her, there was a hockey-pro-turned-pain-in-the-ass in the way.
He nodded to the phone. “Want me to hand that to you?”
“Please.”
“No problem.” He grabbed the phone and offered it, withdrawing it the second she reached for it. “Have lunch with me.”
“Can’t.” Even though it was Sunday, she had a lot to do.
“Work.” Jackson read the screen on her phone.
She shrugged. “I’ll call them back.”
The phone continued to ring in his hand. “Could be important. Didn’t you say something about already being on your captain’s shit list?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Just lunch. That’s it.” He waved the phone at her.
Sticking to the promise she’d made herself not to get roped into anything she didn’t have time for, Hayley put an end to Jackson’s negotiations.
She stood up, water sliding down her body and taking with it the protective camouflage of bubbles. She had both the towel and her phone in her hand by the time Jackson managed to get his jaw off the floor.
Cell phone clutched between her teeth, she left the bathroom, wrapping the towel around herself as she went. With her back to him, she didn’t need to worry about him noticing the flush of red heating her face.
“Detective Stone,” she answered, tucking the phone to her ear. She kept her bedroom door ajar, listening as Jackson’s steps thunked down the stairs. Instead of stopping at the front door, though, he walked deeper into the house.
Of course it wouldn’t have been that easy to send him on his way.
“We’ve got a missing bridesmaid, Hayley.” Mabel Standish, dispatcher, sounded almost giddy at the news.
“What bridesmaid?”
“Sophie Brewster’s girl, Greta. Seems she vanished like the bride. Sophie asked specifically for you.”
Hayley thought of the work that needed to be done around the house, and inwardly groaned. So much for a day off.
“Tell her I’ll be by to talk to her as soon as I can get there.”
“No problem.”
Hanging up, Hayley tossed her phone on the bed and got dressed. Her hair was still damp when she ran her comb through it and tugged it back into a ponytail. Once she’d finished getting ready, she jogged down the