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kissed her, even on the cheek, she’d probably melt right into his arms. Still leaning away, Ari spied Lacey Walker across the dance floor in the center of the reception area. “You win if you can guess who she is.”
    “Easy. She owns the place. Built it, in fact. Husband’s the architect.”
    Ari’s jaw dropped. “How do you—”
    He put his finger on her chin, closed her mouth, and guided her face to his. “Forget the cheek. I want the lips.”
    As if she could say no. Ari inched closer, already anticipating the touch.
    “Hi there, Luke. Nice to see you again.”
    Lacey’s voice pulled them apart. So he knew Lacey Walker.
    “Cheaters never win,” Ari mumbled, making Luke laugh, low and sly. They both stood to greet the woman who did, indeed, own Casa Blanca with her architect husband, Clay, backed financially and emotionally by her three best friends from college.
    “Hello, Lacey.” Ari reached out to give the other woman a hug. “You’ve obviously already met Gussie’s brother, Luke.”
    “Just before the wedding.” They greeted each other with an easy hug. “Say, Clay wanted me to give you a heads up that the mason will be at the job site tomorrow morning at eight. He’s apparently anxious to meet you.”
    “Absolutely,” Luke replied. “I’ll be there bright and early.”
    Ari knew a little about building from her interior design classes. A mason would be the contractor who’d prepare the foundation…and level any uneven ground. Her heart tripped, the pearl necklace and its possible significance still tugging at her.
    “What are you thinking about building?” Ari asked.
    “No one’s thinking about it anymore,” Lacey said on a laugh. “Clay’s architectural firm handled the design for the house Luke’s building up on Barefoot Mountain.”
    “Barefoot Mountain?” Ari and Luke actually asked the question in perfect unison, but Ari sounded strangled, while Luke laughed at the name. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” he added.
    Lacey waved her hand. “Oh, you have to remember I’m a Mimosa Key local, born and raised. We used to ride dirt bikes on that hill when I was a kid, and it seemed like a mountain to us.”
    Dirt bikes? On a burial ground? Ari tamped down her reaction. She didn’t know it was a burial ground yet. But she had to find out.
    “And you really want to destroy a…local landmark?” Ari asked him.
    “Well, Cutter Valentine does,” he said. “And it’s his ten-thousand-square-foot estate home I’ve been hired to build.”
    “That’s what’s going there?” Ari almost choked. “A McMansion for a has-been ballplayer?”
    They both looked at her, instantly making Ari regret the exclamation.
    “He’s not exactly a has-been ,” Luke said with a wry smile. “Cutter’s retiring from a stellar career and is going to be managing the Barefoot Bay Bucks minor league team.”
    “And, frankly, it’s a godsend that someone is finally building up there,” Lacey added. “That land’s been in probate and court messes, and no one wanted to touch it after Hurricane Damien hit. But it turns out Cutter’s great-uncle willed it to him, and he let it sit because he didn’t want it.”
    “Then the opportunity for him to manage the Bucks came up,” Luke said. “It was serendipity.”
    Which Ari didn’t believe in. “Why didn’t anyone want to touch it before now?” she asked, her sixth sense sparking. Maybe someone knew what Barefoot Mountain really was.
    “Balzac Valentine died during the storm, in the house,” Lacey said. “One of the windows blew in and killed him.”
    “Oh, how tragic,” Ari said. “Why didn’t he evacuate?”
    “Lots of us didn’t,” Lacey told her. “That hurricane was headed straight north for the Panhandle, when bam !” She snapped her fingers and pointed to the left. “It turned and crashed straight into Barefoot Bay with cat-five winds. It happened so fast, most of us had no choice but to hunker down and ride it