He gave Nutmeg's head another rub. "She's right. Just messing with you, Nutmeg."
Nutmeg leaned into Nash's hand, his adoring doggy eyes full of appreciation for all the attention.
Nash returned both hands to the wheel and steered the SUV into the marina parking lot. "I'm not sure Nutmeg is much of a guard dog. I'm pretty sure he'd become immediate best friends with anyone who petted him."
Yes. The lovable Maltipoo trusted too easily. Lena envied—just a tiny bit—his blissful ignorance of the evil in the world. Must be nice. "He might be a little naïve. That's okay, though. He's a sweetie."
Nash drove past the main pier and slowed. "Okay. I'll park behind the ice cream shop. You'll be out of the yacht's line of sight."
"Okay," she said, "but Emil wouldn't recognize me if he saw me."
"Why not?" Nash asked.
"I know him mainly by reputation. Through business and through Cassidy. The only time we were in the same room for an entire evening was at a Halloween party, and I was wearing a mask."
"No offense, Lena, but he’s probably resourceful. I’m sure if he were interested, he could find images of you.Besides, you don’t know that Cassidy hasn’t shown him a picture of you."
"I doubt she has."
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
"Because . . ." How much should she say? She didn't want to open this can of worms. Although she could see how it was somewhat relevant. She could stick to the highlights.
"Cassidy knows how he feels about my family, my parents, my uncle, my great uncle. Their real estate business has butted up against some of his interests in the past. There’s a lot of bad blood. I’ve never interacted with him personally, but I guarantee you there’s animosity there. He made an exception for Cassidy because Cass doesn't work with my family's business—that's the Ashworth business, on my dad's side. Cassidy is my cousin on my mom's side. Anyway, she understands the feud and doesn't want to remind Emil who she’s related to. She's said that more than once."
"Ouch," he said. "Sorry she said that."
"Not really," said Lena. "I'd do the same."
The perplexed look on his face was killing her. She didn’t want to tell him any of this. All of a sudden, it had seemed relevant. But now she needed to change the subject.
"It doesn’t matter. The point is, she wouldn’t want to show him a picture of me, so we don’t have anything to worry about. I’m just the dog-sitter. If he notices I’m here with you, give him the same story you gave Delphine. That Nutmeg and I are along for the ride to pick up some supplies."
She knew he wanted to ask more, but he didn’t.
He parked in a shady spot near a grassy area dotted with palms.
"I’ll leave the car running," he said, "so you’ll have the AC. I shouldn’t be long. I’m going to try to plant more than one bug but we’ll see how it goes."
"Okay, good luck," she said.
She watched him walk around the ice cream shop, toward the pier. Nash Stone intrigued her on so many levels. His crisp white shirt couldn't obscure the strength in his shoulders or the muscles in his arms, but it wasn't his athletic physique that made her feel safe. It was . . . something else.
Nutmeg jumped down onto the floorboard, and then back up on the seat and back down on the floorboard again. He was whimpering. Perfect timing. She needed to let him walk around in the grass. Pronto.
Nash would have a fit, but only if he saw her. Surely he didn’t want Nutmeg to do his business in the SUV. She’d stay on the grass by the trees. She couldn't see Emil's yacht from their shady spot. Shouldn’t be a problem.
She clasped the leash on Nutmeg, and they hopped out. Nutmeg was very happy to be in the grass, but he sniffed around for a ridiculous amount of time before taking care of the business that seemed so urgent just moments ago.
The weather was gorgeous. The ocean view, breathtaking. She pretended, for a moment, that she was on vacation. Isadora was really the most lovely island she’d ever visited, and she’d been to a few. It was quiet, sparsely populated, unspoiled. The water was a magnificent, translucent blue-green.
She kept her distance from the tranquil waves for now, but maybe this evening she and Nutmeg could take a walk on the beach back at Emil's house. Surely that would be safe, right? If not, she could ask Nash to come along.
Her stomach did a half-flip at the thought of a walk on the beach with Nash. On second thought, that wasn’t a good idea. He was kind and patient and respectful and handsome, and she was beginning to trust him. But he was working undercover investigating Emil Van Horn, and she was only here to find Cassidy. She needed to get her cousin home and figure out what she was going to do about the rest of her problems.
Cassidy’s safety came first. One crisis at a time. And she didn’t need Nash Stone and his attractive smile complicating things.
Nutmeg continued to sniff around the bases of the palms like a bloodhound. She hated to end what looked like an enjoyable outing for him, but it would probably be best if they were safe inside the car before Nash came back.
