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“Snooping?”
She grinned. “Yeah, I have to look behind the bar and inside things. If you could move to the other side of the bar, that would be great.”
While the area behind the bar was a good size and meant for two people to work at once, it would be a tight fit. I lifted the counter and turned to the side as I reached her. There was no doubt that my body would brush against hers as I moved past her, and I suddenly wanted nothing more, but I also didn’t want to be a douchebag. This was Candy Winston, after all.
“Unless you want me to dream about more than kissing that mouth”—I cleared my throat—“I think you might want to move.”
She raised a brow, and I nodded to the area. “If I try to get past you, the two of us could end up in a compromising position.”
“Oh!” She jumped out of the way, and I noted her cheeks turned just a wee bit pink as I stepped past her with a chuckle. Too bad she wasn’t the daring type.
CHAPTER THREE
CANDY
How can you know someone for most of your life and never notice them, and then one day, something happens, and you can’t stop noticing? That’s a little how I felt as I tried to focus on my task.
I knew Bollard, but he was several years older than me and closer to Cara’s age than mine. If you had asked me what I thought of the man a week ago, I wouldn’t have had much to say, but now, I wanted to go over to the bar, throw myself on a stool, and start asking questions.
I forced myself to stay focused, although I was acutely aware of him cleaning on the other side of the room. I left and went into the main dining room, taking my time as I took measurements and photographs. Then I studied the walls, ceiling, and floors for cracks, nail pops, and other things that could suggest a structural issue. I frowned when I located a few hairline cracks near a doorway, then around a second one.
Back in the bar area, I took measurements and photographs and then noted a crack in the ceiling. I jotted down notes, took a few more pictures, and then moved to the bar to inspect that area. Only Bollard was back there, and as I joined him I noticed how cozy it was.
When he said something about turning around and kissing me, I was tempted to throw caution to the wind and plaster one on him. It wasn’t something I would have done before, but for some reason, I found Michael Bollard quite interesting today.
Perhaps it had been the frustration and anger I had seen in his eyes. Since I was the type of person who always wanted to help others, my need to calm him began to percolate under my skin. However, kissing him would not help anyone, nor would we be up close and personal.
I waited until he was away from the bar, and then I did my inspection, finding only a few things that probably wouldn’t matter much to the buyer.
I typed my notes, then backed out from behind the bar to take a picture of the area. I stepped back again and found myself suddenly against something warm and firm. A hand landed on my hip. I began to step forward, but his hand slipped around my waist, and he held me in place.
“Are you trying to tease me, Candy?”
“No,” I replied as I forced myself not to tense.
His nose brushed the side of my neck. “You sure?” The breath from his words skittered over my skin and caused goosebumps to pepper my arms. “Because we seem to keep bumping into one another, and I wonder if you are doing it on purpose.”
I laughed as I reached down, pulled his hand from my stomach, and turned in his arms to face him. “And here I thought it was you bumping into me.”
He grinned as he stared the short distance into my eyes. “Maybe I am.”
“And why would you want to do that, Michael Bollard?” I asked in a soft voice.
“I keep asking myself that same question,” he replied huskily, and his eyes dropped to my lips. Before either of us could say or do anything else, the phone rang behind the bar, and he quickly stepped away.
I turned to face the opposite way, my eyes wide. What the hell kind of fire was I playing with? Geez, Candy! Get your head out of whatever fantasy you are in and get back to work. Michael Bollard is not someone I should even consider being interested in.
While he spoke to someone on the phone, I slipped through the swinging doors and began to inspect the kitchen. This area took longer, and David, the head chef, was kind enough to step out of my way while I checked everything.
I found a few faulty electrical sockets, but everything else was up to code and in decent shape.
David showed me the stairs when I finished, and I continued my inspection. I found a few more cracks, worse than the first floor, which made sense if the building foundation shifted. The higher up you went, the more movement that would occur. I’d know for sure once I inspected the basement.
There was a storage area upstairs, a large office, and a bathroom. When I opened the last door, I paused. There was a bedroom here? I stepped in, frowned as my eyes shifted around the room, and then landed on a leather vest with the outlaw motorcycle gang patch. Did Bollard live here?
“Aw, I see you are right where I wanted you,” he said jokingly behind me, and I was grinning as I turned his way.
“Don’t even think about it. I didn’t know you lived here.”
