Love Me If You Dare (Bachelor Blogs 2)

“Ahh.” Coop nodded in understanding. “That might help confirm my hunch,” he said, more to himself than to either Sara or Rafe.

“I don’t understand,” Sara said.

“Me, neither.”

“Okay, look, Amanda Stevens is the features editor at the paper where I work.”

“That’s who Angel said is coming here to interview her and feature the bed-and-breakfast,” Sara said.

Coop tilted his head in acknowledgment. “And don’t you think it’s a little odd, that first the unknown, anonymous blogger was contacted by Angel, then the blogger wrote about you staying at Angel’s B and B, and then suddenly Amanda is interested in featuring Angel’s?” Coop asked.

Sara shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m still not getting it.”

“I think Amanda is the Bachelor Blogger,” Coop said, surprising her.

“Couldn’t it just be that Amanda was following up on something she read in the blog when she decided to interview Angel?” Rafe asked.

Coop spread his hands in front of him. “Possible, but I know Amanda, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one spotlighting men and matchmaking all over the city.”

“How well do you know her?” Sara teased.

Coop shot her a look, warning her not to go there.

Sara laughed. “Okay, so you know her that well.”

Rafe cleared his throat. “You said you need to talk to us. So, what brings you here?”

Coop clasped his hand around the coffee mug. “Well, as Sara knows, I’ve been toying with the idea of leaving the newspaper and tackling my writing full-time. Lexie loves to travel, and I’ve saved enough to give myself a year to see whether doing it full-time can turn it into more of a career than a hobby.”

Which Sara knew was his dream. “But you also love reporting, so you’re torn.”

“I used to love reporting. Lately it’s become more of a depressing grind than anything else. And with this Bachelor Blog being the major focus of the newspaper right now, it feels more like a tawdry rag than a weighty newspaper. Not to mention that the damned blog is screwing with a police witness.” He pointedly looked at Sara.

“We’re in agreement there,” Rafe said.

“All to keep the paper in the black. Look, I understand the economic realities for newspapers today, but profit at the expense of even one person’s public safety rubs me the wrong way. And if Amanda, who already worked at the paper, is also that blogger…” Coop shrugged. “It would change the blog from an acquired moneymaker into a deliberate ploy to take the paper toward the sensational just to make a buck. Either way, I want out. But I need to know first.”

“A reporter till the end, right?” Sara asked her friend.

Coop merely laughed. “Lexie’s agreed to let me write her grandmother’s story if I change the names to protect the innocent. That’ll give my next book a real-life edge.”

“Good for you!” Sara said, excited for him.

“So if this Amanda is the Bachelor Blogger, are you going to expose her?” Rafe asked.

Coop shook his head. “It’s something I need to know. I’m not out to ruin Amanda or her career, but it’ll definitely solidify my decision to leave now rather than later.”

“Makes sense to come up here to check it out, then,” Rafe said.

“Besides, it gave me a chance to make sure Sara was doing okay.”

“I’m a big girl,” she reminded her friend. “And I have protection.”

Coop’s inquiring stare shifted between Sara and Rafe.

No doubt he was wondering just what kind of protection Rafe was supplying, something Sara had no intention of getting into now.

“What’s your plan to uncover the truth about the blogger?” Rafe asked.

“It’s simple. Right now the blogs are vague tidbits of information. Things like, Our favorite duo are holed up alone in Rafe’s secluded abode. Will they grow tired of each other or will the proximity bring them closer? Could a proposal be next?” Coop mimicked the blog in a Masterpiece Theater-type tone.

Rafe laughed at the imitation.

“I want you two to display some extravisible PDA around town, or at least around Amanda, and see if the blog posts turn more…specific and personal.” Coop leaned back in his seat. “Ingenious plan, if you ask me. So, can I count on you?” Coop asked them.

Sara glanced at Rafe, wondering how he’d feel about upping their romance quotient in public.

He rose from his seat and walked around to Sara, leaned down and pressed a long, lingering kiss on her cheek. His breath was warm, his lips hot, and her entire body reacted to the simple gesture. She hoped neither man noticed that her ni**les puckered beneath her thin T-shirt.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Coop said, his eyes taking in the implications of that kiss. “So, want to take me over and introduce me to your sister-in-law, Angel?”

“Sure,” Rafe said. “I’ll give my brother a call and see if he can meet us there. I need to talk to him anyway.”

“Isn’t he at work?” Sara asked.

Rafe nodded. “But with Biff and Todd out of the B and B, Angel told him she didn’t need a bodyguard and is trying to get him to leave, too. I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance to see her.”

Before he could call his brother, Rafe’s cell phone rang.

He glanced at the number and tossed it to Sara. “I don’t recognize the number. It must be for you.”

Uncle Jack, she hoped. She glanced at the incoming number and nodded. Apparently, the fun was about to begin, and she hit Send.

“Uncle Jack!” As she spoke, she walked away from Rafe and Coop to give herself some privacy to explain the situation to her uncle.

“Hello, princess! How are you?” His big voice boomed in her ear, reminding her how much she’d looked forward to his visits when she was younger. He’d bring her things from around the world, and Sara used to think he was just a world traveler—until she was old enough to understand what a DEA agent did for a living.

She turned her attention back to the call. “I’m great, thanks. How are you?”

“Say that louder. My hearing-aid battery’s dead, and I can’t hear a damned thing,” Uncle Jack yelled into Sara’s ear although she’d had no problem hearing him before.

She shook her head and laughed. Extreme hearing loss caused by an explosion had forced Uncle Jack into retirement. He hated the hearing aids and always claimed the damned things were broken or the batteries dead as an excuse not to wear them. Uncle Jack was vain and thought the device killed his chances with the ladies.