“I’m happy to see you, too,” Blake said. “Just surprised.”
“So I gathered.” Devon rose and unzipped her parka. “Tell you what. Hang up my jacket, pour me whatever you’re having, and I’ll tell you why I’m here.”
One dubious brow lifted. “You want straight bourbon?”
“Yuck. No.” Devon shuddered. “How about a Thoroughbred Cooler?”
“What the hell is that?”
“Your bad.” Devon’s eyes twinkled. “Opening a restaurant chain called Chomping at the Bit, and you don’t know what a Thoroughbred Cooler is? Looks like having a party animal for a big brother trumps having a family in the horse business.” She handed Blake her parka. “It’s bourbon, sour mix, and orange juice, plus a dash of grenadine, lemon-lime soda, and ice. A lot more palatable than straight bourbon. Think you can manage?”
A wry grin. “I can try.”
“Good.” Devon ran her fingers through her hair and headed toward the living room. “Were you asleep?” she asked, glancing around the semi-darkened room.
“Nope.” Blake walked in behind her and flipped on a light. “I was thinking.”
“From what I heard, you have a lot to think about.”
Blake studied her face. “You saw your father.”
“I just left his office. He filled me in. You must be reeling.”
“Did you drop by to check on me?”
“In part, yes. From what Monty said, you had a rough day all around. Some disturbing revelations implicating your family and an inquisition from my dad. Lucky you.”
“The inquisition wasn’t bad. At least I understood where it was coming from. But the rest…” Blake blew out his breath. “Speculating that a relative of mine is into something criminal is one thing. Having the reality shoved in my face is another. And murder? That’s unfathomable. I feel like a stranger in my own family.”
“It’s not your whole family, Blake,” Devon reminded him. “It could be just one person.”
“Yeah. The person you’ll be alone with tomorrow night.”
“That’s not a concern. Monty will be right outside.” Devon sat down on the rug near the fireplace. Chomper plopped down beside her, his snout in her lap. “How about a nice, warm fire.”
“Consider it done.” Blake flipped the wall switch, and the flames licked to life. “The wonders of gas. Should I make you that drink?”
“I have a better idea. Let’s open a bottle of wine and order a pizza with everything on it.” Devon tilted her head. “I promise not to eat more than half.”
“That’s a relief.” Blake’s lips twisted into a grin. “And here I thought I’d have to fight you for a fifth slice. I appreciate your restraint.”
She smiled. “No problem. Although restraint isn’t what I had in mind—at least not this minute.”
Her tone was teasing. But her meaning was clear.
The mood in the room shifted abruptly.
“Is that so?” Blake asked, sexual tension crackling to life.
“It’s so.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Can you handle it?”
“Definitely.” Blake’s gaze swept slowly over her, his eyes darkening. “Just tell me this—when do I have to have you home by?”
“Breakfast.” Devon leaned back on her elbows. “Merry’s feeding the pets. Monty’s got an early-morning client meeting. If he shows up at my place early, Lane will entertain him—and tie him up with duct tape, if necessary.”