Intuition. Carol Ericson

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      “It’s not exactly a visit, not social anyway.” She ran a fingertip along the rim of her glass. “And the stuff with my mom…it’s not my primary purpose for being here.”

      He waiting politely, taking another sip of his beer, but she didn’t finish her thought, and he was left wondering about her primary purpose for being in Coral Cove. Instead, she wiggled her fingers in the air, signaling the bartender. “We’ll close out now, unless…” She threw a glance his way.

      “No, I’m good, and I’ll get this.”

      “That’s not necessary. In fact, I owe you.”

      As she reached for her purse, her cell phone rang. She checked the display and said, “Excuse me a minute. I have to take this.”

      She swiveled away from him and hunched over the bar.

      Boyfriend? Husband? He hadn’t even asked. Didn’t want to know.

      He lifted his hip from the bar stool to retrieve the card to his room and leaned toward Kylie, not that he was trying to eavesdrop or anything.

      Her low, musical voice reached his ears. “Nothing yet, Mrs. Harris. I’ll call you as soon as I have something.”

      A muscle ticked in Matt’s jaw. Mrs. Harris?

      Kylie clicked her phone off and dropped it back into her purse. “Sorry. I was supposed to call that person earlier and got completely sidetracked.”

      “By your mother.”

      “Uh-huh.” She made a grab for the check. “I really didn’t take that call to avoid paying the bill.”

      He scribbled his signature and room number on the bill and shoved it toward the bartender. Harris, common name. There were lots of Harrises in the world, right?

      The man on the bar stool next to Kylie’s spun around, a fake smile claiming half his face.

      “Kylie Grant, right?”

      Kylie jerked back from the man’s eager-puppy-dog enthusiasm. “That’s right. Oh, you’re Tyler Davis.”

      “Correct.” The man’s teeth gleamed in the low light of the bar. “Mayor Davis now.”

      “Mayor of Coral Cove? That’s—” she turned to Matt and rolled her eyes “—impressive.”

      “I heard a rumor about your presence in town, Kylie. Is it true?”

      “Depends on the rumor.” She narrowed her eyes and Matt almost felt sorry for Mayor Davis as a chill settled on the bar.

      “Not a good idea, Kylie.” Davis wagged his finger in Kylie’s face and Matt felt like breaking it off. “We should let sleeping dogs lie.”

      “And murdered dogs? Should we let those lie, as well, Mr. Mayor?”

      Matt drew his brows over his nose and tried to catch Kylie’s eye, but she’d zeroed in on Davis.

      “The girl ran off. There was never any evidence of foul play, and with the Coral Cove Music Festival about to get underway we don’t want any bad publicity surrounding the event.”

      Matt froze and his jaw tightened. What the hell was Davis talking about?

      Kylie’s lip curled. “You were mayor at the time Bree Harris disappeared, too, weren’t you? You and that Chief Evans. That’s why there was no evidence of foul play—you and the chief weren’t looking for any.”

      Davis hopped off the stool. “Just don’t stir up any trouble for the festival. This town has endured enough this summer. We deserve to end it on a high note.”

      Kylie muttered something under her breath as Davis sauntered away, stopping to shake hands with a couple by the window.

      Matt planted his hands on his knees and swiveled around to face her. “What are you doing in Coral Cove, Kylie?”

      She blew a wisp of hair from her face. “I guess you can’t keep secrets in small towns, or at least not many. I’m here to investigate the disappearance of Bree Harris. She fell off the face of the earth at the time of the music festival three years ago.”

      Matt squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t happening.

      She touched his forearm and he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was the first time she’d voluntarily touched him all night…and it felt good. At least it would’ve if she were here for a different reason.

      “What’s wrong with you? Ever since that joke of a mayor stopped by, you’ve looked like a volcano ready to blow its top.”

      He skimmed his fingers through his hair. “You’re in Coral Cove to do a job, and that job is finding Bree Harris. Did her parents hire you?”

      She tilted her head and her long hair slid over one shoulder. “Well, sort of. Her mother hired me. Why? What’s wrong?”

      Matt smacked the bar and shoved to his feet. “What’s wrong? Bree Harris’s father hired me to do the same job.”

       Chapter Three

      Kylie dropped back onto the leather stool from which she’d half risen. Matt Conner was here for Bree Harris? She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead.

      Matt Conner. What had she heard about the bad boy of Coral Cove High through the grapevine over the years? She’d been so preoccupied by her mission and so disoriented from her fall and so distracted by the way Matt’s jeans hugged his…

      She shook her head. She’d never bothered to ask him what he did for a living.

      Cop. That’s what she’d heard. LAPD. The ludicrousness of Matt becoming a cop had even filtered into her universe.

      She grabbed her drained wineglass and dumped the final few drops of wine down her throat. What was a cop doing out of his jurisdiction working a three-year-old missing persons case?

      He’d been watching her through dark slits of eyes, his sensuous lips a stern line. At what point during this wild night had she noticed his lips?

      “I-in what capacity are you here?” She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of revealing how much she knew about his life since he’d left high school. She’d already done that and hadn’t liked the smug look on his face.

      He crossed his arms over his massive chest, and Kylie swallowed. Hadn’t he been tall and skinny as a teenager? Now he was tall and…built.

      “I’m a private investigator. Mr. Harris hired me to look into Bree’s disappearance.” He shifted back, almost straddling the stool. “He didn’t tell me I’d have a partner.”

      A P.I., not a cop. The grapevine was wrong.

      She grabbed her purse from the bar and hitched it over her shoulder. “I don’t work with partners.”

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