Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 1)

“Then that’s that. I win.” Devon put down her fork, giving her father a teasing look. “The judge has spoken. And he can overrule the jury, no matter what verdict they come back with, right?”

“Yeah. Right.”

“Lane just told me the incredible news that he’s moving back east,” Merry interceded, her eyes bright with excitement. “Isn’t that fabulous?”

“It’s wonderful,” Sally agreed, gazing affectionately at her son. “We’ve all been angling for this for five years. Looks like we finally wore him down.”

“Yup.” Lane chewed a bite of meat and swallowed. Then he shot a swift glance at Devon—purposeful enough for her to realize he was about to set in motion the plan he’d alluded to earlier. “Problem is, I’ve got nowhere to stay.”

“Of course you do.” Sally waved away that nonsense. “There’s more than enough room at my house.”

A flicker of displeasure crossed Monty’s face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d be less than thrilled to have Lane move in right now. Or why.

“True.” Lane pretended not to see his father’s displeasure. “And I really appreciate it, Mom. But that won’t work. You’ve got a life to get back to. You need your privacy….” A hint of a pause—just enough to make Devon wonder if he was about to embarrass Sally.

Judging from Monty’s scowl, he was worrying about the same thing.

“Plus, I’ll be spending most of my time in the city,” Lane concluded, visibly stifling a grin as he let them off the hook. “The commute would kill me.”

“You could stay here.” Devon watched her brother’s face as she made the offer.

“Thanks, doc.” Lane rose to the challenge. “But the same problem exists here. Not the long commute, but the privacy. I think it would be easiest if I lived right there in Manhattan. Assuming I can find a place.”

“My brownstone has a ton of room,” Blake suggested. “And these days I’m rarely there. You’re welcome to share it.”

Lane’s response told Devon this was the opening he’d been waiting for. “I have a better idea. How about if I sublet it?”

Blake started. “Sublet—you mean the whole brownstone?”

“Yeah. You won’t be needing it for long. I’ll save you the time and trouble of listing it with a broker. Let’s do it now. You can bunk down there as long as you need to. If you need to. Otherwise, you can move in with Devon right away.”

Everyone’s head snapped around, all eyes on Devon. Monty, who’d been drinking water, began sputtering, glaring at Devon between coughs.

“Dev?” Merry was the first to speak. “You didn’t tell me Blake was moving in.”

“I…” Devon had no idea what to say. She’d expected a lot of things from

Lane, but this?

“You didn’t mention it to me, either.” Having recovered from his choking bout, Monty was all over Lane’s announcement. “Was it supposed to be some kind of surprise?”

“Pete.” Sally ran interference, her tone and expression telling him to restrain himself.

“What? I just want to know—”

“She’s a grown woman,” Sally interrupted quietly.

“I realize that. I’m just asking when all this was decided.”

“It wasn’t,” Devon announced loudly. Whatever game Lane was playing, she wanted no part of it. “Lane was just pulling your chain. Blake has no plans of moving in here. So everybody just calm down and…” Her voice trailed off as she saw the strained expression on Blake’s face. “Blake?”

Lane was also staring at him, looking totally baffled. His shoulders lifted in a questioning shrug.

“We haven’t had a chance to talk yet,” Blake answered.

“Shit.” Lane dragged a palm across his jaw. “You’d said…So I assumed…I just thought this would expedite…” He blew out a self-deprecating breath. “I’m sorry.”

“About what?” Monty demanded. “What the hell is going on?”