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“That’s two questions,” Devon parroted drily. “But they’re related, so I’ll let them slide.”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime. I can’t officially work with my father. I don’t have a PI license. But I do have a great head on my shoulders. And I’d do anything for my family. So if I had a way of figuring out who killed Frederick and put my mother’s life in danger, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“Meaning, yes, you’re in this with your father.”
“Meaning I have faith in Monty. He’ll get to the bottom of this. I’m just the icing on the cake.”
“You’re hedging. And, for the record, you’re a hell of a lot more than just icing.”
Devon wasn’t about to be sidetracked. “So, are you going to call your grandfather now, or wait till I’m home?”
“Is that your next question?”
“No. It’s a follow-up to yours.”
Blake looked amused. “That sounds like a rule breaker to me. But I’m in a generous mood. The answer is, I’ll wait till you’re home. Then I’ll report in. What you really want to know is, what am I going to say. Guess that’ll have to be your next question.”
“Uh-uh.” Devon plunked her snack tray on the nightstand, folding her arms across her breasts. “That’ll come later, when I’ve given you something worthwhile to report. Right now, all you’ve got is confirmation of what you already knew.”
“True,” Blake acknowledged. “The same applies to you.” He set aside his own tray. “Okay, here’s something you don’t know. I’ve wanted to meet you for months. Ever since last August. It was a Sunday morning, around six. I was up at the farm for the weekend. I’d gone riding. I was walking back to the house when I spotted you exercising the horses with your mother. You were wearing a light blue shirt and tan riding pants that fit you like a glove. I ogled you like a horny teenager. I planned on asking your mother for your phone number. Then Chomping at the Bit swung into full gear, and my personal life went on the back burner. So last weekend, even though the timing sucked, I was thrilled to see you walk through the door.”
Devon couldn’t help but smile. “Was I worth the wait?”
“Oh yeah. And then some.”
She licked her lips, blurting out a question she didn’t even realize she’d formulated. “Blake, do you know who’s following me?”
His amusement vanished, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”
“Ever since last weekend, I’ve had the feeling I’m being watched. At home. At work. I thought maybe you knew something about it.”
“Not a thing.”
She
tilted back her head and gazed at him. “Is it something your grandfather would arrange without telling you?”
Blake fell silent.
“I’m not trying to entrap you,” Devon clarified. “I’m just…a little unnerved.”
“Have you mentioned this to your father?”
By opening up, she was taking a risk and she knew it. But she’d just slept with this man. She had to trust her instincts a little. “No. I didn’t want to worry him. Not without evidence. Why? Should I?”
“Yes,” Blake surprised her by saying. “I don’t like the idea that someone’s shadowing you. Sure, my grandfather might be behind it so he can find out if your mother shows up at your door. But whoever killed Frederick could be behind it, too.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Devon said tonelessly.
“Hey.” Blake caught her chin between his fingers, held her gaze with his. “Yes, I want to get at the truth. And yes, I want to protect my family and my company. But that doesn’t mean I’d endanger you. I wouldn’t. Trust me on that much.”
“I do.” She didn’t look away. “But I need to trust you on more.”
“Such as?”
“Such as, how do you know so much about the inner workings of Monty’s investigation? He’s not big on sharing. Yet you’re aware of his questions about the company cars, about Philip Rhodes’s supposed suicide, and probably a whole lot of other things I’m not mentioning. How?”
