Every Little Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 2)

“I’m calling the sheriff,” Vaughn said behind me, and even though I knew it was the right thing to do I squeezed my eyes closed and groaned.

“The sheriff? What happened?”

“Oh dear. Are we safe?”

I listened to my guests voicing their fears, and wished just once that I could let them think what they wanted, let them leave if they wanted! I was shaken, shocked, hurt, and frankly pissed way the fuck off.

The last thing I wanted to do was play the ever-congenial innkeeper.

But I had to.

I opened my eyes and strode in among them. “Please, you are all safe. Nothing like this has ever happened before, but I can assure you that the intruder will not be returning and the inn will be secure. If you’d all like to return to your rooms while I deal with the sheriff—quietly, I promise. Of course I will deduct tonight’s room fee from your bill and dining tomorrow is free all day for all guests. On top of that I will issue you all a fifty percent discount if you choose to return to the inn in the future.”

As I hoped it would, all my discounts and freebies worked their magic and my guests trundled back up to their rooms murmuring to one another about the nuisance but also about Mona’s delicious muffins and crème brûlée.

Wrapping my arms around myself I stared at the entrance to the inn. Both doors were wide open.

“Here.” Vaughn appeared at my side.

I glanced at him, surprised to see he was offering me his leather jacket.

Accepting it, I slipped it over me, and got a giant, delicious whiff of his cologne as I did so. An inappropriate tingle shot through my breasts and I wrapped the too-large jacket shut so he couldn’t see my pebbled nipples. “Thank you,” I whispered, staring at him.

Vaughn stared back, concern in his beautiful eyes.

He’d never looked at me like that before.

I felt compelled to say, “I’m okay.”

The concern melted under anger. “You’re not okay,” he snapped. “Do you have any idea who the intruder was?”

“I’m positive it was Stu Devlin.”

He cursed under his breath, the muscle in his jaw working. And then that anger was directed at me. “Why the hell didn’t you call the police instead of confronting him?”

My lips parted in surprise at his attack. “For your information I was calling the police as I was confronting him. I didn’t think he’d throw me to the ground! I thought it was Stu being an ass. I didn’t think he’d hurt me.” I shivered at the thought.

“Well now he’s a dead man.”

I felt a rush of sudden desire between my legs at the strangely protective vibe I was getting off him. The feeling unsettled me. “How did . . . Why were you here?”

He glanced over at my open double doors. “I sometimes stroll down the boardwalk at night. When I was passing I saw your doors were open. He must have picked the lock.” Vaughn’s eyes narrowed. “I knew something was wrong so I came inside to check, and I heard the struggle coming from your office.”

Thank God.

Never in my life did I think I’d be grateful for Vaughn Tremaine’s presence but I was. In fac

t I was beyond grateful. I didn’t know if it was adrenaline or shock or what . . . but I was a turned-on kind of grateful.

“Well . . . thanks,” I whispered, unable to look at him.

If I looked at him, he’d know I was imagining stripping that gorgeous dark red sweater right off of him. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes. He’d rolled up the sleeves of the sweater, revealing tan corded forearms.

I had this thing about strong forearms and nice hands on a guy.

Vaughn had both.

I bit my lip at the sight and tried to pull myself together.