a view of the Petoskey Bridge, as promised,” Leo said a few minutes later, after we’d ordered our food. I followed his gaze and had to admit he wasn’t wrong. Even having lived here all my life, watching the sky turn crimson and gold as the autumn rays glowed down from between clouds never got old. I regaled him with some bridge trivia, mostly to make conversation—not because I found it so fascinating, but visitors usually did.
“So, what made you take a job here on the island?” I finally asked. It was a question I’d been itching to get to because it was pretty unusual for someone to move here in November unless they were part of a construction crew scheduled to work on one of the hotels during the winter lull. Naturally the island was overrun with new employees during the summer—waitstaff, chefs, landscapers, and such—but Trillium Bay was excessively quiet during the off-season. Many of the hotels and restaurants even closed down for the winter so the owners could snowbird down in Florida.
Leo toyed with the edge of his cocktail napkin and paused before answering. “Well, I’ve been living in Chicago for the past couple of years, but the company I work for just went belly-up, and I suddenly found myself without a job. I’ve got leads on a few things, and I’m not too worried, but my family and I came here once when I was a kid, and I always thought about coming back.” He gave a little shrug, making it impossible for me not to notice how broad his shoulders were. Did I mention he was handsome? He was. Leo continued talking. “I figured now was as good a time as any to check the place out again.”
“You do realize there’s not a ton going on here over the winter, right?” That probably wasn’t a very mayor-like thing to say. The head of the tourist board would scold me for that, and in fact one of my missions was to increase our winter occupancy rates. Still, I felt as if I should warn him.
“That’s actually perfect. I’m looking for peace and quiet and solitude.”
Solitude? Well, that was a bad sign. He chuckled at my expression.
“Not complete solitude, obviously. Just a break from my regular work.”
“Okay, what kind of work do you normally do?” I took a sip of wine, a crisp chardonnay. I normally preferred reds but decided purple teeth would not be in my best interest.
“I’m in private security, mostly,” Leo answered. “A friend of mine started up a company after we did a couple of tours in Iraq. Great soldier, but not much of a businessperson, apparently.”
Well, that explained part of it. Leo was a soldier. Mark that in the “automatically sexy” column. Something about a person willing to selflessly serve their country was undeniably attractive. That explained the muscles, too. No wonder I had the flutters.
“Iraq, huh? Scary stuff. Thanks for your service.”
He shrugged it off. “Thanks for having dinner with me. I’ll have to let you know about breakfast, though. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m easy.”
I laughed, wishing I was easy. I wasn’t, but oh, if I was . . .
I lifted my glass in a salute. “Good to know you have such high moral standards. I promise not to pressure you into breakfast. Or anything else.” Oh, look at me, being all flirty and stuff. Must be the wine.
“Well, now, don’t be too hasty. You could at least try. Otherwise you’ll hurt my feelings.” His lips tilted into a grin, and good Lord. Did I mention he had dimples? Long dimples on either side of his mouth. As if I needed something else to draw attention to that mouth. If this guy bartended during the summer, he’d make a million dollars in tips. With his I’ll-take-care-of-you kind of charm and his let’s-go-to-bed-in-the-middle-of-the-day kind of gaze, visitors and local gals alike would be leaving him tens and twenties, not to mention their phone numbers. He was dangerous in all the best possible ways. The tremor that rippled through my torso was equal parts attraction and concern, because without much effort, I could see myself getting rather addicted to his . . . everything.
“So, you live in Chicago?” I said blandly, demonstrating my determination to steer the subject toward something less sexual. For my sake.
He laughed knowingly, clearly sensing my redirection. “Yep, for now, but my next job could take me anywhere. Or maybe not. I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll