Sweet Stuff Read Free

minutes. Get your balance. Again, my apologies for startling you like that.” His frown eased into an abashed half smile that kept her pulse humming right along. “What in the world you must have thought, a strange man walking right into your home. I guess it’s good you recognized me. I can’t believe I got the number wrong. The island’s not that big—wait.” He paused, the half-smile turning back to a look of confusion. “Did you mean to say that this ... is the house that’s up for lease?”
    For the briefest moment, Riley entertained the wild thought of pretending she was also there for the open house and had just made the unfortunate decision to give the Jog Master a try. But she ditched the plan almost as fast as she thought of it. Even if he bought the story, at some point, if he ended up leasing the place—which would be just her luck—he’d no doubt run into her around the island. Sugarberry was the smallest of the inhabited barrier islands and the only town on it was hardly big enough to be called a town. They couldn’t help running into each other.
    He’d quickly find out she was hardly in any position to lease the newly renovated and exceedingly high-end beach bungalow. The houseboat she lived on might give the impression of a decent annual income, but it was a loaner, and while nice, not exactly yacht club material. Not that Sugarberry had a yacht club. The Seaduced was presently tied up on the south end of the island alongside a bunch of commercial fishing trawlers, as it was the only pier that could take her.
    For that matter, Sugarberry didn’t have any other high-end beach bungalows. The old Turner place—bought at a bank auction by a pair of Atlanta investors looking to mine new Gold Coast development opportunities—was the first of its kind. And, if Sugarberry residents had anything to say about it—and they had plenty to say—the last.
    Unlike Quinn Brannigan, who was exactly high-end, upscale bungalow, yacht club material.
    “Yes, this is the one,” Riley answered him, making a grand gesture to the room around them. Anything to take his concerned gaze from her face. “It’s truly a gem. I’m so very sorry your first impression of the property was well ... you know. Hugely unprofessional of me. Not the hoped-for introduction, I’m afraid.” She deliberated a brief moment on asking him not to mention her little adventure to Scary Lois, but ditched that idea, too. Not a good idea to beg favors from the guy who’d just saved her life. Inadvertently, maybe, but still.
    “You’re not Lois of the multi-hyphenated last names, are you?”
    That earned a real smile and a wince before she could control it. “No. No, I’m not.”
    Quinn gave her that ridiculously charming half smile again. “I didn’t think so.”
    “You mean I don’t look like the Gold Coast’s most successful A-List Realtor?” she said dryly. “I’m stunned.”
    His half smile grew to a full smile and if she’d had any doubt her heart had fully survived her Jog Master marathon, that fear proved unwarranted. It was pumping just fine, thank you very much.
    “I’ve not had the privilege of meeting her as yet,” he said, a bit more of that honey-coated-biscuits-and-melted-butter tone flavoring his words. “But what communication we’ve had, well, let’s just say you seem far more ... approachable.”
    “You mean less scary?” Riley looked down at herself and sighed. “I don’t know about that. I don’t want to see myself in a mirror anytime soon.”
    “Come on. Let’s find the kitchen and get you cleaned up a little.”
    A gentleman’s way of saying, yep, super-scary looking. Not that it would have made a difference either way.
    “That’s okay, really. I’ll go take care of it. Why don’t you have a look around? Lois has all the literature with her, but once I’m cleaned up, I can give you a tour. I’m familiar with all the upgrades and should be able to answer most of your questions, at least