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story carried a picture of the beaming couple, flanking a laughing Laine.
    Jesus, she was a knockout. Her head was thrown back with the laugh, her arms slung affectionately around her mother and stepfather’s shoulders. She was wearing some western-cut shirt with little bits of fringe on the pockets, which—for reasons he couldn’t fathom—made him crazy.
    He could see a resemblance to her mother now that they were side by side. Around the eyes, the mouth.
    But she’d gotten that hair, that bright red hair, from Big Jack. He was sure of it now.
    The timing worked, too well. Marilyn O’Hara had filed for divorce while Jack was serving a short stretch, courtesy of the state of Indiana. She’d taken the kid and moved to Jacksonville, Florida. Authorities had kept their eye on her for a few months, but she’d been clean and had worked as a waitress.
    She’d bumped around a bit. Texas, Philadelphia, Kansas. Then she’d dropped out of sight, off the radar, a little less than two years before she and Rob tied the knot.
    Maybe she’d wanted to start fresh for herself, for the kid. Or maybe it was just a long con. Max was making it his mission to find out.

CHAPTER 3
    “What am I doing? This isn’t something I do.”
    Jenny peered over Laine’s shoulder at their dual reflections in the bathroom mirror. “You’re going to have a drink with a great-looking man. Why that isn’t something you do is best discussed with a therapist.”
    “I don’t even know who he is.” Laine set down the lipstick she held before applying it. “I hit on him, Jen. For God’s sake, I hit on him in my own shop.”
    “A woman can’t hit on a sexy guy in her own shop, where can she? Use the lipstick.” She glanced down to where Henry was thumping his tail. “See, Henry agrees with me.”
    “I should just call the inn, leave a message for him, tell him something came up.”
    “Laine, you’re breaking my heart.” She picked up the lipstick. “Paint,” she ordered.
    “I can’t believe I let you talk me into closing a half hour early. I can’t believe how easy it was for you to talk me into it. Coming home to change—it looks obvious, doesn’t it?”
    “What’s wrong with obvious?”
    “I don’t know.” Laine used the lipstick, studied the tube. “I’m not thinking straight. It was that moment, that kaboom moment. I just wanted to yank off his shirt and bite his neck.”
    “Well, go to it, honey.”
    With a laugh, Laine turned around. “I’m not following through. A drink, okay. It’d be rude not to show up, wouldn’t it? Yes, it would be rude. But that’s it. After that, common sense will once more rule the day, and I’ll come home and close the door on this very strange interlude.”
    She held her arms out. “How do I look? Okay?”
    “Better.”
    “Better than okay is good. I should go.”
    “Go ahead. I’ll put Henry out in the mudroom. You don’t want to smell like dog. I’ll lock up for you.”
    “Thanks. Appreciate it. And the moral support. I feel like an idiot.”
    “If you decide to . . . extend the evening, just give me a call. I can come back and get Henry. We’ll have a sleepover.”
    “Thanks again, but I’m not going to extend the evening. One drink. I figure an hour tops.” She gave Jenny a light kiss on the cheek, then, risking eau de Henry, bent down to kiss the dog’s snout. “See you tomorrow,” she called as she dashed for the stairs.
    It had been silly to drive all the way home just to drive back to town, but she was glad she’d been silly. Though even Jenny hadn’t been able to talk her into slipping into a little black dress—talk about obvious—she felt more polished out of her work clothes. The soft sweater in forest green was a good color, and just casual enough not to send the wrong signal.
    She had no idea what sort of signal she wanted to send. Yet.
    There was a little bubble of panic when she walked into the hotel. They hadn’t actually confirmed they were meeting