“I like your style, Bradford.” Jeff nodded at the gun. “But I think we should leave that in the glove compartment. As your new CEO, I’d like to come in on a conciliatory note, if you don’t mind. The second amendment’s great and all, but there are some fundamental management techniques I’d like to try first.”

“No problem, boss. No problem at all.”

THIRTY-NINE

With a relieved sigh, Lizzie splashed cool water on her hot face. She was so glad to be out of the sun and up in the suite she was sharing with Lane, the dry AC’ed air wicking the sweat from her overheated body. It had been a long day working in the gardens, she and Greta attacking the beds around the pool with a stress-related gusto that was warranted, but ultimately useless except as it related to removing weeds. Neither of them had said anything about the visitation, nor had the subject of the engagement gotten much coverage.

Greta remained suspicious of Lane and nothing except time was going to change that.

Reaching blindly for a towel, she pushed the soft fibers into her forehead, cheeks and chin, and when she looked up, Lane was standing behind her.

Man, he looked good in that linen jacket and open-collared shirt, his aviators tucked into the breast pocket, his hair ruffled in a way that meant he’d been driving around with the top down. And he smelled of his cologne. Yummy.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” he said with a smile. “Come here.”

“I’m stinky.”

“Never.”

Putting the towel aside, she went into his arms. “You actually look happy.”

“I’ve got some good news. But I also have an adventure for you.”

“Tell me, tell me—”

“How’d you like to go spying with me and Jeff?”

Lizzie laughed and stepped back. “Okay, not what I was expecting. But heck yeah. I’m down with espionage.”

Lane shrugged out of his jacket and disappeared into the closet. When he came back out, he had a golf visor, a U of C baseball cap, and a ski hat with earflaps.

“I’ll take what’s behind door number two,” she said, going for the cap.

Lane slapped that godforsaken ski-mare on his head. “We need to go in your truck, though.”

“No problem. As long as I’m not the one who has to look like Sasquatch.”

“That bad?”

“Worse.”

Lane struck a pose, one hand on his hip, the other up in the air. “Maybe I can borrow one of my sister’s Derby hats?”

“Perfect, that’s so much less noticeable.”

She went into the closet and came back out. “There was this other Eagles hat right there.”

“Yeah, but I wanted you to think I was cute.”

Lizzie put her arms around his neck and leaned in to him. “I always think you’re cute. And sexy.”

As his hands moved down onto her waist, he growled. “Nowisnotthetime. Nowisnotthetime …”

“What?”

He kissed her deeply, holding her against his body even with the hats in his hands. And then he cursed and stepped back. “Jeff’s waiting.”

“Well, come on, then! Let’s go.”

It felt good to laugh, to be free, to see him look for once like the whole weight of the world wasn’t on his shoulders. And yes, okay, maybe now he was sexually frustrated, but even that was kind of cheerful in a way.

“So what’s going on?” she asked as they went out into the corridor.

“Well, I’m just back from corporate headquarters, and …”

By the time they bottomed out in the foyer, she was doing a jaw drop. “So you’re making some progress. And you’re chairman of the board?”

“You’re with a man who actually has a job. For the first time in his life.”

As he put his palms up for high fives, she smacked ’em a good one. “You know, I loved you even when you were just a poker player.”

“The technical term is card shark. And yes, I realize it isn’t a paying gig”—he held a finger up—“but it’s going to involve a lot of work. And I even have an office downtown. Or here. Or whatever.”

“And now you’re a spy, too.”

“Double-oh Baldwine.” They walked over to his old roommate who was waiting by the door. “And here is the Jeff to my Mutt in crime. Or, well, not crime, exactly. Fiscal responsibility.”

Lizzie gave Jeff a quick hug. “So what are we doing, boys?”

Minutes later, they were crammed into the front seat of her Toyota truck, heading down Easterly’s hill on the staff road, all with the hats on. She was behind the wheel with Lane stuck in the middle on the hump, his head almost hitting the ceiling.

“Go to the bottom and hide around the last greenhouse facing out,” Lane said. “And hurry. It’s quarter of five already.”

“Who are we waiting for?”

Jeff spoke up from the far side. “If I’m right, the upstairs maid. Tiphanii.”

“What?” She twisted around. “You guys think she’s stealing the Charmin or something?”

“Not even close—”

“Wait, that’s her car!” Lizzie nodded to the rearview. “Behind us.”

“She’s leaving early,” Lane said with a curse. “Can I dock her fourteen minutes of pay?”

“As someone who knows your financial situation?” Jeff nodded. “Yes, you really should.”

Lizzie shook her head. “Let me get this straight. You’re going to all this trouble just to see if she’s working till five?”

“Keep going,” Lane said. “And we’ll see which way she turns. We need to follow her.”

“Any idea where she’s going?” Lizzie came up to River Road. “Wait, I know what to do.”

Heading to the right, she took her sweet time accelerating—which with four hundred extra pounds of man in the cab was not just a strategy.

Lizzie whistled under her breath. “Perfect, she’s going to the left! Hold on, gentlemen.”

As the boys braced themselves, she sped up as quickly as she could, shot down a dirt lane and pulled a road cartwheel, the rear of the truck skidding around as she punched the brakes and wrenched the wheel. Someone got nailed a good one and cursed, but she was too busy shooting back out to River Road—so that Tiphanii’s little Saturn was now in the lead.