She wouldn’t touch that topic just yet. Sloane had a lot of time to work with. In a situation like this, premature questioning could raise suspicion. She needed to first put Emmitt at ease. Which meant she should get to knowhimon a personal level.
Sloane made a mental list of safe things to casually ask Emmitt about that evening. If it hadn’t been Emmitt with Anna that day at Jack’s Hardware Store—not that Sloane was ruling that out—then perhaps he had more brothers. One who fit the description better than Maverick did.
“You mentioned that you’re part owner of the inn. How did that come about?”
Emmitt glanced down at the control board with narrowed eyes before answering. “My siblings and I bought in on it at the beginning of this year. Well, spring, actually. So far, we’re all really glad we did.”
A timer on the dash buzzed, and Emmitt reached out to shut it off. “Looks like our time out here is about up. I’m going to head on back. We should clock an hour by the time we land.”
“Sounds good.” She nodded, realizing she should probably give him some feedback. “You are doing great, by the way. You seem quite confident as a pilot.”
Emmitt grinned. “Thank you. Iamconfident. People are putting their lives in my hands. I’d never take that lightly.”’
Sloane didn’t doubt it. It was that confidence that drew her to him. It was magnetic. Attractive. Interesting.
Emmitt skillfully maneuvered the change in course and headed back toward the inn. Sloane was glad that it was her “job” to watch him as they flew. It was quite the sight. One that definitely had her heart fluttering faster.
Witnessing someone in their element was fascinating. It was why people enjoyed sports, concerts, or the theater. Sure, there was the entertainment side of things, but at the heart of it, people admire others’ talents and skills.
And watching Emmitt pilot the helicopter with such precision…it went beyond fascination. It was sexy. And that wasn’t a word she used lightly. In fact, it wasn’t a word she usedperiod. But the definition fit. He was a capable, take-charge kind of guy, but not in an uptight sort of way. He seemed balanced, and she liked that.
A vision of the book he’d been holding came to mind. In a way, it proved her final thought correct. Sure, he might have playboy tendencies, but it took a balanced person to admit that and seek help for it. He knew he was bad, in a way, but he wanted to be good. Better.Thatwas attractive too.
Gracious, Sloane, get a hold of yourself.She had a job to do, and she couldn’t lose sight of it.
That was true. But for the first time in her career as a private investigator, Sloane was tempted to do something her brother did on nearly every job he took—she wanted to have a little fun along the way.
Perhaps she deserved a little fun.
Sloane took another quick glance at the gorgeous stranger by her side, wondering what it would feel like to be held in such strong, capable arms. A shiver of delight moved through her, both pleasing and disturbing her all at once.
No,she decided, unnerved suddenly. Deserving as she might be to have some fun, it could get her into a whole lot of trouble. Sloane couldn’t afford to get distracted or let herself go. Anything she did with Emmitt needed to be intentional and for the sole purpose of gaining intel. She would keep her mind set on that and leavefunfor another time.
Chapter 7
Emmitt paced the restaurant lobby as he waited for Sloane to freshen up. Before they’d even made it to the entrance of Lincoln’s Steakhouse, she’d voiced—in some French term—that she needed a restroom. It took asking for a translation to understand what she’d said and, if Emmitt were honest, he found that endearing.
He liked the way Sloane spoke. Not only the accent, which was beyond sexy at this point, but he was starting to like some of her funny speech patterns, like her apparent opposition to contractions. He was glad he’d decided against the Pub & Grill; he’d have been too likely to run into at least one of the women he’d met there. Plus, Holly, Ty’s best friend, was a waitress there. The last thing he needed was for a family friend to ask how the newlyweds were doing.
Besides, Lincoln’s Steakhouse had earned wide acclaim with its spacious eating area on the main and upper levels and its bar/axe-throwing section on the lower level. Also on that lower level were the restrooms, where Sloane had escaped upon their arrival.
Emmitt’s phone let out a buzz from his pocket. He retrieved the small device and saw that he’d gotten a text from one of the twins.
Maverick:We went freaking hard on leg day today. Mine are killing me. Feels like they’re on fire. If you lie and say yours don’t hurt too, I’ll assume I got a better workout than you.
Emmitt chuckled and texted back:My legs are burning today too. Probably more than yours since I pumped more iron.
Maverick:Very funny. I’ve got to know—how are things going with the French Hottie? Is she the dream girl you manifested or what?
Emmitt:Too early to tell.
The truth was, Emmitt wasn’t exactly viewing Sloane as his possible dream girl. She was there with a job to do, and he’d made it his job to meet her someplace in the middle. She’d been stubborn so far, but that’s just because she was one of those rigid, follow-every-rule types. So he’d lowered his expectations. He’d let her do her job, but if Emmitt could get her to give him credit for evenoneunearned hour, he’d view his efforts as a success.
Maverick:Sounds like you’re striking out if you ask me. I might have to take my shot with her this weekend. Is she coming to the party?
A hot dose of irritation pushed through him.
Emmitt:Yeah—as my date. Keep your mitts off.
