Whisper's Edge Page 3

  “No.” When she resumed walking down the sidewalk he fell in step beside her.

  “Where then?”

  Savannah gave him a slight shrug followed by a small smile. “Maybe someday I’ll find that out. I’ve lived here longer than I lived anywhere else and I can’t imagine leaving. This is home.”

  Tristan gave her a sideways glance but she averted her gaze and kept on walking. Although he longed to probe, Tristan knew from much experience that silence could sometimes lead to more information than questions. He waited patiently, but when she failed to elaborate, he considered asking more. Before he had the opportunity, though, she stopped in front of a cute, pale blue bungalow-style mobile home and pointed.

  “Here we are,” she announced and pushed open a white gate attached to a picket fence. “The washer and dryer is a small stacked version but it does the job.”

  Just like you, ran through his head and Tristan grinned but kept his thought to himself. “So you live and work here in Whisper’s Edge?” he asked as he followed her up a brick-paved sidewalk that led to matching steps.

  “I’m allowed to bypass the fifty-five-and-up rule because I’m an employee. Plus, it makes my commute to work a piece of cake.” Savannah flashed a grin and then opened the front door. “A humble home, for sure, but it’s all mine and I like it.”

  Tristan took a look around. “I can see why. It’s bigger inside than I would have guessed.”

  “I know.” Her smile boasted pride in ownership. “But believe me, this place sure needed some tender loving care and a whole lot of elbow grease.”

  “Well worth the effort, I’d say.” The neat-as-a-pin main interior consisted of one big room that abutted a breakfast bar in front of a galley kitchen. To the right, he noticed a small hallway that he guessed must lead to a bedroom or two and a bathroom. Shiny hardwood floors gleamed against ample sunshine streaming through the front bay window. The furnishings were a mix-and-match variety that felt cozy but without too much clutter.

  “So you like it?”

  “Yes, I do.” Tristan found the surroundings warm and inviting. “I appreciate your sense of style.”

  “Garage-sale chic?” She tossed her wavy head to the side and gave him her throaty laugh, which he didn’t think he could ever get tired of hearing.

  “Call it whatever you want. I think it’s pretty cool.”

  “Well, thank you. I’m guessing it’s very different from your own place. You seem like a modern-furniture kind of guy.”

  “Mmm…yeah, I suppose,” he answered but had to think for a minute. What was his style? An interior decorator furnished his high-rise condo overlooking the Ohio River in Cincinnati. “Flying pigs,” he finally stated, drawing raised eyebrows from Savannah.

  “Excuse me?”

  Tristan chuckled. “My interior decorator decided that I needed a theme throughout my condo.”

  “And she chose flying pigs?”

  “I asked her the same thing. She got all snooty on me and explained that Cincinnati used to be called Porkopolis because of the farmers who used to transport pigs through the city. It was the pig capital of the country or something, and evidently herds of pigs traveled through the streets.”

  “Oh wow.” The expression on her face said that she was imagining pigs wandering through town. “Interesting.”

  Tristan chuckled. “The history of the river and pigs remains strong in the city to this day. They even have a yearly marathon that’s called The Flying Pig.”

  “Oh.” Savannah shrugged. “Well, I guess she was trying to tie in local flavor.” She grinned and said, “Everything’s better with bacon. Don’t you agree?”

  He laughed. “Totally. Now you’re making me hungry.”

  “If you had more time I’d fix you some lunch. But go on…Why the flying pigs?”

  “I guess she did it because my place looks out over the river and the city but every other day I would find a new flying pig somewhere…on towels, coffee mugs, salt and pepper shakers. People started thinking I liked flying pigs, and the collection that I didn’t want kept growing. It took on a life of its own.”

  Savannah laughed. “So I guess birthdays and Christmases are full of flying pigs.”

  “Come here.” Tristan held out a wet sock and winced. “Look closely.”

  Savannah crossed the space between them and peered at the sock. “Oh my gosh, there are little winged pigs all over your socks!” She put a hand to her chest and chuckled with delight.

  “It’s not funny. I have ties, a watch…you name it.”

  “Did you ever tell anyone differently?” When she looked up at him he noticed flecks of gold in her green eyes.

  Tristan hesitated. He had never divulged this to anyone and he had just met Savannah. But her sweet smile and inquiring eyes made him keep talking. “No, I didn’t because my mother made it her mission to find flying pigs to add to my crazy collection.”

  “Ah…” Savannah glanced at his socks and then back at him. “And you couldn’t find it in your heart to disappoint her.”

  “I’m wearing boxers riddled with flying pigs,” he answered drily. “Does that answer your question?”

  “It does and I think it’s so sweet.” When her eyes misted over, Tristan felt another shot of guilt.

  “I’m a hard-nosed lawyer. Not many people would think of me as sweet.”

  “Oh well, I’ve got your number.” She leaned in closer. “But I won’t tell.”

  “Thank you,” he said and had to grin. In less than one hour Savannah Perry and the people of Whisper’s Edge thought Tristan was some kind of hero. In his thirty-two years of living he had been called many things but never a hero and certainly not sweet. Not even close.

  Damn, he sure did like the feeling. Too bad he didn’t deserve it.

  3

  The Naked Truth

  NOT WANTING TRISTAN TO SEE HER BLINKING EMOTION FROM her eyes, Savannah quickly turned away and hurried over to the closet hiding the washer and dryer. How embarrassing! First she caused her new boss to jump into the swimming pool for no reason; then she snapped at him, and now she was getting a bit emotional because of something as silly as flying-pig boxers. “I’ll just get the dryer ready.”

  “Thanks,” Tristan replied. “Arriving sopping wet to a meeting isn’t something I usually do,” he continued with an edge of humor in his deep voice. “You need to change into something dry too.”

  “I will as soon as I get your stuff loaded in the dryer.” Savannah wanted to turn around but kept her back to Tristan, hoping he hadn’t noticed her getting a little choked up. She had learned at an early age not to show weakness or you’d get preyed upon, but lately her emotions had been getting the best of her and she didn’t like it one bit. Just the other day Kate had discovered Savannah dissolving into a puddle of tears over a television commercial involving a puppy being chased by a chubby-cheeked toddler.

  “What in the world is coming over me?” Savannah had wanted to know.

  “It’s your biological body clock ticking away,” Kate had explained in her slow, Paula Deen Southern drawl. “Child, you’re knocking on the door of thirty and your hormones want you to have a baby.”

  “It would be a good idea to have a boyfriend first.”

  “Point taken.” Kate had looked up over reading glasses. “This is precisely why you need to get away from Whisper’s Edge once in awhile!” Every word had a few extra syllables. “We could go to Sully’s Tavern where all of those Cricket Creek baseball players hang out. I’ll be your…What do they call it?” She snapped her fingers and pointed. “Your wingman.”

  “Maybe you need a wingman,” Savannah had shot back.

  “I’m fifty-five, almost fifty-six. That ship has sailed.”

  Savannah had waggled her eyebrows. “You could be a cougar for a Cricket Creek Cougar,” she teased and they had both laughed. In truth, though, Kate didn’t look anywhere near her age.

  “Look, we can’t both be the wingman. It doesn’t
work that way.” Kate had slanted Savannah a pointed look. “But seriously, Cricket Creek has livened up in the past couple of years. You need to get into town and take in a game or hang out at Wine and Diner or Sully’s…whatever. Girl, just get out and socialize, and I don’t mean playing shuffleboard.”

  “I will,” Savannah had promised but without real conviction. On the other hand, her instant attraction to Tristan might have proven Kate’s point. With that thought she took a deep breath and willed her cheeks not to turn red when she turned to face him. “We’ll have those clothes dry in no time.” Savannah gave him a quick glance and then turned back to her task.

  “Good deal,” Tristan replied.

  “Just give me another minute to rearrange some things here.” Having to move a stack of folded clothes out of the way gave Savannah a quick breather to get herself under control. Having been tossed from one foster home to the next, Savannah had lived a less than perfect childhood, and one would have expected her to end up one tough cookie. In many ways she was, but lately she’d had to hide emotion when it came to the mention of family, especially the kindness of someone’s mother.

  Although she didn’t have a clue as to who or where her blood family was, to her delight, many of the residents of Whisper’s Edge treated her as if she were their very own granddaughter. To her way of thinking, feeling treasured made up for the lack of a raise in salary in the past five years. Of course she would welcome more money in her wallet, but for now Savannah simply felt relieved that Tristan bought the property from his absentee grandfather.

  When there remained nothing left to fiddle with, Savannah turned around and gave Tristan what she hoped was a businesslike smile. “Well, what do you say we get those wet clothes dry?”

  He put down a framed photograph he was looking at. “I’d say that’s an excellent idea, Savannah, but I think I’d better have something to change into.” His slow grin made her suddenly feel warm all over, despite her damp clothing, and she had to fight the urge to fan her face like Kate did during a hot flash. Her clothes just might steam dry on their own.

  “Oh…yes, what was I thinking?” She tried her best to sound businesslike. “I’ll be right back.” Savannah pivoted on the balls of her feet and hustled out of the room but then stopped in her tracks. What in the world did she have that would fit him? The robe she had suggested earlier wouldn’t fit over those wide shoulders, although picturing him in it made her grin. While nibbling on her bottom lip, she frantically searched in her cluttered closet but came up empty-handed. “There!” She finally grabbed a giant-sized orange beach towel and hurried back into the living room. “This is all I could come up with.” She tossed him the towel and then pointed to the hallway. “You can change in the bathroom to the right.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be back in a minute.”

  After he walked away Savannah hurried back into her bedroom, anxious to get out of her own clothes. She peeled off the jogging suit and then wiggled out of the bathing suit before quickly tugging on dry panties and a bra. After pulling on jeans and a random T-shirt she made the mistake of glancing at the mirror over her dresser. “Oh dear lord,” she muttered at her disheveled appearance. As usual, unless tamed, her hair had taken on a life of its own. Auburn curls framed her flushed face and tumbled over her shoulders. Because of water aerobics class Savannah had skipped the foundation she usually used to cover up her freckles. “I look like I’m twelve. Well, except for my boobs.” She groaned and then reached up to try to smooth her hair, even though she knew it was pointless. “Oh well, I am what I am. Such is life.” After a deep breath she headed back out into the living room, but when she reached the doorway she stopped in her tracks and swallowed hard. All she could think was…wow.

  Tristan stood in front of the tiny laundry closet with his back to her…make that his bare back. Oh my…Savannah’s gaze traveled over wide shoulders, down tanned skin to a narrow waist. The orange towel hugged a nicely rounded butt that deserved a very firm squeeze. While she knew she should speak up and let her presence be known, the only bodily function that seemed to be working was her libido. Seriously, Savannah found herself fighting the urge to walk over there and run her hands up his tanned skin and sink her fingers into his dark hair. Instead, she curled her fingers into fists and took another deep breath. Words had almost made it to her vocal cords when Tristan placed his pile of clothes in her laundry basket. When she saw him reach up and open the dryer Savannah’s eyes widened; she had forgotten that she had tossed in one last load. Before she could stop him Tristan reached inside the dryer and pulled out a handful of panties and thongs. He looked down at the lace and silk dangling from his fingers just as Savannah found her voice.

  “Oh no!”

  Tristan whipped around at the sound. “Uh, didn’t know these were in there.” He thrust his handful of colorful panties toward her and looked at Savannah as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I, uh, was just trying to be helpful.” She wanted to say something but the sight of his sculpted bare chest prevented words from forming. She should have told him to wear the towel like a toga. “I’m sorry,” he continued, and wiggled his hand. “Please, take them,” he pleaded but the movement sent several wisps of lace and silk fluttering to the floor.

  “S-sure.” With her face flaming, Savannah hurried over to him but just as she reached his side Tristan dropped another thong. They both bent over to pick them up at the same time and bumped heads. With a yelp, Savannah lost her balance and reached forward to grab onto Tristan to keep from falling to the floor. Unfortunately, she grabbed a handful of towel and staggered sideways, whipping it from his hips so fast that they were both caught by surprise. “Oh!” She covered her face with her hands before she caught an eyeful…well almost before she caught an eyeful. “Sorry!” she squeaked in a voice muffled by her palms on her lips.

  “You can open your eyes now.”

  “Are you decent?”

  “Well, halfway.”

  Savannah lowered her hands and was relieved to see the towel knotted at his waist. “I want you to know that was an accident,” she said.

  “Sure it was.”

  Savannah’s eyes widened, but when he started laughing she joined him. “I should get those clothes dry,” she said, but a moment of awareness hung in the air between them. She gave him a shy smile. The feeling was a bit foreign but she liked the warm rush of excitement. Swallowing hard, she turned toward the dryer.

  A moment later she checked to make sure he had removed his wallet and then tossed his clothes into the dryer on low. Luckily there was no sign of a ruined cell phone and she sure hoped that his watch was waterproof, not that she was about to ask. “This won’t take long,” she promised without looking at him, although the sight of his splendid naked body would remain branded in her memory for quite some time. Perhaps forever.

  “Savannah?” The unexpected firmness in his tone made her cringe. Perhaps he wasn’t as amused as she thought he was?

  “Yes?” Savannah inhaled a deep breath, and wondered if she was about to be fired. Emotion pooled in her throat and her eyes burned. Not even the sight of his flying-pig boxers tossing in a circle, making the pigs look as if they were truly flying, could make her smile.

  “Are you going to turn around and look at me?”

  “I think I might have already seen way too much,” she answered, hoping that a touch of humor might soften him up. She had learned from Kate that laughter was often the best medicine and prayed that it worked this time.

  4

  Wishful Thinking

  KATE WINSTON FROWNED WHEN SHE SPOTTED TRISTAN MCMillan’s fancy-looking cell phone lying on her desk. He’d taken a phone call just before telling her that he wanted to check out the grounds, including the community center and the pool. She’d offered to accompany him but he’d politely refused, saying only that he wanted to see a few things and it wasn’t necessary for her to leave her desk.

  Kate picked up a pen and toyed with it. She found
it odd that Tristan wanted to tour Whisper’s Edge on his own and had to wonder if there wasn’t something more to his purchase of the property than he was letting on. While tapping the pen against her cheek she reviewed in her head what she knew about the relationship between Tristan McMillan and his grandfather.

  “Not much,” she mumbled as she racked her brain for clues. Max McMillan’s only daughter, Maggie, had been several years behind her in school. Although Kate only knew Maggie in passing, news had traveled fast that after only four months into her freshman year in college Maggie turned up pregnant. Word on the street had it that Max, already a bitter man after his wife’s desertion, had a falling-out with Maggie, who ended up leaving town.

  Kate thought for another minute and then frowned when she remembered that a battle with breast cancer is what had brought Maggie home one summer when Tristan was just a kid. Other than that, Kate remained clueless. Kate knew that Tristan’s return would surely stir up local gossip, so if she kept her ear to the ground perhaps she would come up with some answers. She only hoped that his intentions were good.

  Kate inhaled a deep breath and willed her thoughts not to go down that path. Worry had been her middle name since Max McMillan started letting the conditions of the grounds slide. She’d heard that the old sourpuss had made some poor investments in Florida and teetered on the verge of bankruptcy. While the riverfront property had gone up in value with the revitalization of Cricket Creek, Kate had also heard it through the local grapevine that Max was so far upside-down financially that it didn’t make a lick of difference. The bank had been waiting in the wings to swoop down and seize the property, but although Tristan had kept mum on details, he did divulge that there was a legal clause allowing him to purchase it from his grandfather before the bank stepped in.

  Kate sighed as she looked over at the stack of unpaid bills piled high on her desk. As the property manager she’d learned to pinch pennies and call in favors but the past year had been stressful. Savannah Perry, bless her heart, hadn’t had a raise in who knows when and never complained, even though she worked her little tail off. Kate dropped her pen and rubbed her temples. Not everyone was so gracious. Over the past six months she had gone through three maintenance men, and the current one had just given his notice a week ago. Kate massaged her temples. She was becoming desperate. Duct tape could only go so far.