Colton's Secret Bodyguard. Jane Godman

she had initiated last night’s earth-shattering kiss, Rylan had still left. It would have been easy to have woken this morning feeling dispirited and spurned. Instead, she felt curiously optimistic. She had made her feelings plain. She had suspected all along that Rylan felt the same and his response to the kiss confirmed it.

      After he’d gone, she’d indulged in some lengthy analysis of his behavior, while also reliving the heady sensation of his lips on hers. By walking away instead of taking things a step further, was he saying she meant more than a quick fling? The thought made her shiver with pleasure.

      I hope so. Because he already meant so much more to her. There. The thought was out there. Scary but true.

      After showering, she studied her hair in the mirror. She loved her curls, but they could be rebellious. They definitely needed to be kept in their place when she was working. Giving her hair a quick all-over spritz with her favorite macadamia oil product, she pulled her wild locks back into a ruthlessly tight braid.

      When Bree purchased this property, she’d had a walk-in closet built. Her father had laughed and asked how long it would be before she needed another one. As she rifled through the overflowing rails, she realized Calvin Colton had been right. She either needed more space, or she would have to part with some of her precious vintage treasures. But how would she choose which of her 1950s cocktail dresses or rock-chick biker jackets to give away?

      She pulled on black leggings, a short floral dress and knee-high brown boots. Over the top, she layered a long Scandinavian knit jacket in bright geometric blocks and twisted a contrasting scarf loosely around her neck. Moisturizing sunscreen, a touch of lip gloss, a spray of perfume, and she was a splash of color dashing past the mirror next to her front door.

      Two minutes later, she regarded the man seated behind her desk with a wary expression. “I’m always pleased to see you, Trey. I also know how busy you are, so I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.”

      Her brother grinned. “Most people start with good morning. How are things with you, sis? Still struggling to decide which you hate most...morning or anchovies?”

      “The answer depends on whether I’m listening to my alarm clock or ordering pizza.” Bree flopped into the chair opposite him. “Seriously, why are you here?”

      His expression became serious. “We got a report of a person behaving suspiciously close to these premises just before seven a.m. A security guard...” He checked his notes. “A guy named Swanson was attacked.”

      Bree jerked upright. “David? Is he okay?”

      “Fine. He had a fright, but he wasn’t seriously injured. He’s already back at work.” Her brother leaned forward with his hands clasped on the desk. “What bothers me is that Swanson thought the intruder was intending to climb the steps to your apartment.”

      A cold trickle of fear tracked its way down Bree’s spine. She pushed it aside, frowning over the vagueness of Trey’s statement. “David thought that was his intention? A minor injury and the suspicion that a man may have been planning to climb the stairs to my apartment? Was that really the most pressing item on your schedule this morning, Trey?”

      He had the grace to look sheepish. “I wanted to check and make sure you were okay. The guy who called this in—”

      She held up a hand. “I thought David Swanson called you?”

      “No.” He consulted his notes. “The 911 dispatcher spoke to a Rylan Bennet.”

      Bree rubbed the bridge of her nose. It was early. She was caffeine deprived and Trey’s presence had taken her by surprise. That must be why nothing was making sense. Because why would Rylan be here before the gallery opened?

      “You know him?” Trey was watching her closely. Nothing escaped her brother.

      “He manages a group of artists who are taking part in my next show. Mom introduced him to me.”

      The Audrey Colton seal of approval acted like a charm, and Trey relaxed back into his chair. “Since I’m here, help me out. It’s only been a week since someone threw a brick through the gallery window. You’ve been getting threatening emails. So far, I don’t have any leads on who is responsible. Has anything happened since to make you feel uncomfortable?”

      Thoughts of her recorder and coffee being moved flashed through her mind, but she suppressed them. If Trey found out she was being harassed, she would be transported back to her childhood. He would be the big, strong brother and she would be in his shadow once again. She loved him, but she didn’t want to hand control of her life over to him. Not unless she was forced to.

      A tiny voice at the back of her mind asked the question, Shouldn’t Trey be the one to decide? If the strange incidents were linked to the broken window, and now this attack on David, wasn’t it time to confide in the sheriff? A second voice spoke up, drowning out the first. What if they aren’t linked?

      “Bree?” Trey’s prompt brought her back down to earth. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

      “No.” She looked him up and down. “But there is something I need to ask you.”

      He raised his brows. “Ask away.”

      “Why am I on the wrong side of my desk?”

      Laughing, Trey got to his feet. When he held out his arms, Bree rose and was enveloped in a hug that lifted her off her feet.

      When he released her, Trey gave her a long look. “You’d tell me if there was a problem?”

      “I’d tell you if there was something you could help me with.”

      He frowned. “That’s not the same thing.”

      She patted his cheek. “It’s all you’re getting. Now scoot. I have work to do.”

      “Unfortunately, so do I.” He turned reluctantly toward the door. “How about lunch next week?”

      “As long as you’re buying, it’s a date.” Bree waited for him to close the door before she sank into her chair. Almost immediately, the dance music ringtone on her cell phone signaled an incoming call. A glance at the display showed her Rylan’s name.

      She didn’t bother with a greeting. “I need to speak to you.”

      “Do you like dogs?”

      The question threw her off balance. “What do you mean?”

      “Dogs, wise gal. You know. Four legs. Tails that wag. Make a noise called barking. Do you like them?”

      “Yes, but...”

      “Good. Come out to the parking lot.”

      She started to protest, but he’d already ended the call. What was going on? Feeling as if she’d entered a parallel universe, Bree left her office and walked the length of the gallery.

       All this, and I still haven’t had my first cup of coffee.

      When she stepped outside, two things hit her. One was the chill breeze. The other was Rylan’s magnetism. Dressed in jeans, boots and a worn leather jacket, he was leaning against the hood of his car. The smile that lit his eyes when he saw her did something wicked to her insides.

      Bree didn’t return the smile. She wasn’t here to be charmed. Since the last time she’d seen him, he’d somehow gotten involved in the incident with David, and he’d just given her an order. She wasn’t sure she liked either of those circumstances.

      A slight frown creased her brow as she crossed the distance between them. “What do you want, Rylan? I have a lot to do today.”

      The blue of his eyes darkened, like clouds crossing a summer sky. “Hey. What is this?”

      “My brother told me you called in the attack on David.” Although she let him take her hands, she didn’t return his grip. “Why were you here before the gallery opened this