The Wharf Read Free Page A

think my body temperature is returning to normal.”
    At least someone’s was.
    He scooted his chair closer to her and leaned forward, brushing her wet hair aside and skimming his fingers across her forehead. “You’re hot.”
    Her gaze slid to his face and she folded her arms across her chest. “I think maybe I should get back to my room, get some clothes on and report this to the hotel.”
    “I’ll help you.” He scooted his chair back and held out his arm for support as she rose from the chaise.
    She ignored him, but not for long. As she straightened up, she swayed to the side and clutched at his proffered arm.
    He curled the other one around her bare waist. “Take it easy. Just lean on me.”
    She took a few shuffling steps and then dragged in a long breath. “I think I’m good now.”
    “I can carry you up to your room. It’ll make your complaint to the hotel even better.”
    Her dark eyes flashed and he felt their heat. He’d gone too far.
    He raised his hands, palms facing forward. “Just a thought.”
    She swept her robe from the back of a chair and folded it around her body. The entire pool deck seemed to drop a few degrees.
    By the time she reached the door to the hallway, her steps were steady. She turned toward him. “What are you doing at the hotel? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
    “I left work early and decided to make the drive down tonight instead of in the morning. Don’t feel compelled to move up our meeting time from lunch tomorrow just because I’m already here.”
    “Lunch still works for me.” She shook her head and smiled. “Crazy way to meet.”
    “I’m just glad I decided to hit the gym for a late workout.”
    “Me too.”
    She checked out his shoulders and arms, visible in his 49ers muscle T, making him glad he’d just been pumping iron.
    He ushered her into the elevator before him. “Floor?”
    “Fourth.”
    He got off on the fourth floor with her, and she raised her eyebrows. “Are you on this floor, too?”
    “One more up, but I’m not leaving you alone.”
    “I’m not going to faint, Brody.”
    “You never know. You were sweating buckets.”
    “That must’ve looked...attractive.” She shoved her key card into the door and a row of green lights flashed.
    “That looked scary. You lost a lot of fluids in that sauna.”
    She shoved her door open and then spun around, wedging her hands on either side of the doorjamb. “You can wait out here while I change. If you hear a big thump, you know I went down.”
    The door slammed in his face, and he jumped back. A little hostile, but he could understand why she wouldn’t want a strange man lounging in her hotel room while she got dressed.
    And they were strangers, despite their intimate beginnings on the pool deck.
    When she’d first called him a few months before, he had recognized the name. Hell, he’d already read her book on Daniel Walker. Fascinating stuff—former college-football player, respected businessman, Pop Warner coach—went berserk and murdered his entire family.
    When she’d proposed writing a book on his own family tragedy, it piqued his interest. Kacie Manning, like many others, believed in his father’s innocence, and she had the resources, research skills and platform to prove it.
    In the end, he’d had to run it by his brothers, especially Sean and Eric, the two oldest. They’d known Dad the best and had been affected by the dark cloud over the Brody name more than he and his younger brother, Judd, had been.
    He’d braced himself for their opposition, but they surprised him by agreeing, or at least not objecting. They’d even uncovered a few pieces of evidence about the old case that Ryan planned to hand over to Kacie.
    A loud thud resounded from Kacie’s room, and he banged on her door. “You okay in there?”
    The door eased open and she poked her head out. “I’m still upright, but my suitcase isn’t—fell off the stand.”
    “Are you ready?” He nodded at the water