The Riley she remembered was the one who had hidden a voice-activated tape recorder in his sister’s room during one of Claire’s frequent sleepovers at the McKnight home so he could overhear what she and Alex talked and giggled about.
Their conversation had inevitably centered around boys, of course, because they were probably twelve or thirteen at the time and beginning to be obsessed with the opposite sex. Claire had just started to notice the smartest, cutest boy in the grade ahead of her, Jeff Bradford. Alexandra at the time had been enamored with the quarterback on the freshman football team, Jason Kolpecki.
They had talked long into the night about their current crushes with no clue that Riley, the sneak, had recorded all of it—and then threatened to share the tape recording with the boys in question if they didn’t meet his demands, a mortifying prospect.
It was probably a good thing those who weren’t thrilled about Riley’s return didn’t know their new chief of police had once included blackmail in his repertoire. She and Alex had spent every Saturday for two months taking over his customary duty of mowing and edging the McKnights’ lawn in exchange for Riley’s promise to destroy the tape.
All the teasing and mischief of their childhood seemed worlds away, buried deep under the weight of all that had come later. Her father’s scandalous death, her mother’s subsequent breakdowns, his father’s midlife crisis that had decimated his family and Riley’s own wild youth.
Sometimes she thought she would give anything to go back to that peaceful time, when the only thing she had to worry about in junior high was her algebra grade and Riley leaking to Jeff Bradford that she had a crush on him.
After another half hour while he spent considerable time on his cell phone with, she assumed, officers working the other crime scenes, he finally collected the last evidence and loaded everything into a bag.
“That should do it,” he said. “I’m going to send everything here to the crime lab and hopefully we can get a print or two.”
“Thanks, Riley. I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“No problem. I hope to have information for you as soon as possible.”
He gave her the big, broad, charming smile he had perfected as the youngest and only boy in a family of five sisters, the same smile that helped him wiggle out of more trouble than she cared to think about.
A little sizzle of attraction sparked through her, just like the flickering lights floating down the mountainside in the hands of skiers during the annual Christmas Eve candle festival at the resort. She frowned, especially when he stepped a little closer and reached for her hand.
“It really is terrific to see you, Claire. When things settle a little, what do you say I take you up to the resort for dinner so we can catch up under better circumstances?”
Okay, she had been out of the dating scene for pretty much ever, since she had started seeing Jeff when she was fifteen, but that sounded suspiciously like Riley McKnight was asking her out.
“Uh.” Brilliant answer, she knew. She couldn’t help it—she couldn’t remember the last time anything beyond leaving her grocery list at home managed to fluster her. Surely she must have misunderstood. He was just being polite, wasn’t he?
“It was only a simple dinner invitation, Claire.” A dimple quirked at the edge of his mouth. “I didn’t intend to send you into a panic.”
She forced a bland smile and reminded herself this was pesky Riley McKnight. “The day you send me into a panic is the day I dye my hair purple and join a punk-rock band.”
“Now that I would love to see.”
Too late, she remembered that he never backed down from a challenge. Once when they were kids, Alex had been grounded for a month when she dared her brother to ride his bike down from the top of the Woodrose Mountain trail without hitting his brakes once. He’d made it almost to the bottom before his spectacular crash—and, of course, never once considered braking to slow his descent. That would have been cheating.
That was years ago. A man didn’t become a decorated law enforcement officer without gaining a little wisdom along the way and learning how to pick his battles, right?
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to catch up,” she answered as calmly as she could manage. “Alex tells me you’re renting the old Harper place on Blackberry Lane. That’s just down the street from my house. I’m in the redbrick house with the portico.”
He smiled again. “Great. Guess I know where to head when I need to borrow a cup of sugar.”
How on earth did he manage to make such a simple statement sound vaguely sexy? She decided to ignore it—just as she decided it would probably be better not to mention it had been a long time since she’d loaned anyone a cup of sugar—or enjoyed any other euphemism, for that matter.
“Is it all right if I reopen the store now? I can’t afford to be closed all day.”
“As far as the police are concerned, sure. Do you need me to send somebody over to help you clean up?”
She shook her head. “I’ll check around and see if I can round up a crew.”