Swearing, he dropped his suddenly aching body onto the sofa and stared at the Scotch bottle in his hands. Finally, without taking a single sip, he set it on the coffee table and buried his head in his hands. He stayed in that position for so long that when his cell phone began to ring, he lifted his head to discover there was a crook in his neck.
Massaging his nape, he grabbed the phone from the table, glanced at the screen and answered with “What is it, Ian?”
“Hey, I was just calling with an update about the Hanson deal.” Ian sounded concerned. “You okay?”
“No, not really,” he said with a sigh.
“Did something happen?”
He put on a vague tone, not in the mood for any pity. “Nothing important. So what about Hanson?”
“Contracts are signed and we’re ready to open negotiations with the contractors. Are you still set on a spring opening for the hotel?”
“Yeah, next summer at the latest.”
They discussed the waterfront hotel for the next five minutes, though Cole’s head wasn’t in it, and it didn’t take long for Ian to pick up on his boss’s distracted state.
“Seriously, what’s going on?” Ian demanded, cutting Cole off midsentence.
After a moment of hesitation, Cole sighed. “I just found out Teresa was filing a restraining order against me before she died.”
There was a shocked silence. “Are you kidding?”
“Nope.” He scowled. “Apparently she told her lawyer she was scared for her life.”
“But that’s…ridiculous.” Ian paused. “The cops don’t actually believe this, do they?”
“Oh, they believe it.”
“Even your FBI agent?”
“She’s not my anything, and to be honest, I have no idea what she thinks. I haven’t spoken to her since she left this morning.”
He suddenly wondered if the sheriff had told Jamie about the restraining order. Well, of course he had. Question was, did Jamie agree with Finnegan’s preposterous premeditation theory? The mere notion that she might believe it sent a sliver of pain to his flesh. Maybe they’d both agreed that the kiss had been a mistake, but Cole still couldn’t stomach the idea of Jamie Crawford thinking he was a killer. She was the first woman he’d felt a connection with since the divorce. The only woman in this town who didn’t gaze at him with fear in her eyes.
“Do you want me to fly back?” Ian asked.
Cole rolled his eyes. That was always Ian’s solution, to glue himself to Cole’s side, as if that would magically fix everything. “No, stay in Chicago. Someone needs to make sure this business doesn’t collapse.”
“Fine,” Ian agreed. “But if you need me to come, don’t hesitate to ask.”
After he’d hung up the phone, Cole reached up to rub his temples, hoping to ward off an oncoming headache. This was total insanity. Nothing seemed to be going his way. Joe Gideon refused to tell the truth and back up Cole’s alibi. Teresa was taunting him from the grave with her damn restraining order. The sheriff and everyone in town wanted him behind bars. His business was suffering because of all the bad press.
How on earth had he wound up here? It was as if he’d fallen into a deep, dark hole, and every time he managed to claw his way out, someone came up and stomped on his fingers, sending him flying back into the abyss.
A buzzing sound snapped him from his dismal thoughts, then brought a rush of anger when he realized someone was at the gate. No doubt the sheriff, coming back with more questions. More accusations.
Shoulders stiff, he marched into the security room and studied the monitor, then swallowed when he recognized Jamie’s car. The window was rolled down, and she was looking up at the camera, her lavender eyes flickering with the compassion he’d come to associate with her. Then her voice crackled through the speaker. “Cole? Will you let me in? I just wanted to talk.”
Releasing a ragged breath, he buzzed her in and headed for the front door. As he waited, he raised his guard, refusing to be blindsided again. He doubted Jamie just wanted to talk. Finnegan had only left fifteen minutes ago, after Cole refused to answer any more questions without his lawyer present. And now Jamie was here, hoping to chat?
Cole’s jaw tensed as he heard her footsteps on the porch. Finnegan had sent her. No doubt about that. And he had no intention of enduring another interrogation, not even from the woman who’d passionately kissed him back last night. Actually, especially not this woman.
To his surprise, when he opened the door and gestured for her to come inside, the first thing she said was, “Are you all right?”
He blinked in surprise. “What?”
“Are you all right?” she repeated as they headed for the living room. Her gaze flicked to the bottle of Scotch on the table, and she answered her own question with a rueful expression. “I guess not.”
“What are you doing here, Jamie?” He couldn’t hide the weariness in his voice, or the heaviness of his body as he trudged to the sofa and sat down.