Leslie woke to the most delicious smell ever. Cinnamon, cardamom, honey…and man.

She opened her eyes to find Declan sliding onto the bed next to her, holding a small tray with a cup of what could only be a chai latte. Also on the tray was a small bouquet of the last few mums that decorated her porch in pots, and a piece of thick toast with a pot of jam.

“What a wonderful breakfast,” she murmured, sitting up back against her pillow. “And the serving boy as well,” she added, her eyes skimming over his bare muscular chest and ridged abs.

“So now I’ve been demoted from scout to serving boy?” he asked, leaning forward to kiss her gently before releasing the cup of tea into her hands.

“Apparently so. Maybe you better get back to work and try to get reinstated,” she joked. His eyes darkened with lustful speculation, and she laughed. “Maybe after breakfast, so I can get my energy back up. It’s been a rough few days.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He was still looking at her with heat in his eyes, but he eased back and reached for his own drink, which he’d set on the table next to her.

“So, I’ve been thinking about something John Fischer told me—about the fake windows they often put on the houses that were really there to hide liquor cabinets during Prohibition.”

“Right,” Declan said.

“You know I never use the front door of the house, but last night when I brought Regina and Gilda in here, I took them through the front door. They didn’t know any better, of course, but I knew that was where Kristen might be…and I was definitely hoping for her help in resolving this haunted status. Anyway, since I never come in that way at night, I never noticed before how one of the windows isn’t lit up when the lights are on. Strange things you notice sometimes, you know, even in the midst of all that stress? But even though things were tense, I was starting to relax. Because I was pretty certain Kristen would be more than happy to make an appearance. So anyway, I noticed that one of the windows was dark…and it shouldn’t have been.”

Declan straightened. “Do you mean you think there might be a secret liquor cabinet in the foyer?”

“Yes. See, they would put two windows next to each other—on the outside, anyway. But inside, there’d be only one actual window. The other window would be the backside of the liquor cabinet. There was probably a light that was on inside the cupboard, so from the outside it looked like both windows were lit up…but inside, there’s only one. No one would really notice that, especially if it were two windows together—inside you probably wouldn’t notice if it was more narrow than what you saw from the outside.”

“Holy crap,” he whispered. “Do you think Sal’s gems might be hidden there?”

They looked at each other, and she felt a sparkle of excitement.

“Let’s take a look,” he said.

She bounded out of bed—which was almost a mistake, because she was buck naked and he definitely noticed. But Leslie neatly evaded his grabby hands and slipped into her robe. “I’m on the trail of some missing gems, scout. We’ll celebrate if I’m right,” she promised, dancing away from him with a sassy grin.

“And if you’re not?”

“We’ll celebrate me being wrong.”

“Let’s go,” he said, leading the way to the foyer.

First they went outside so she could show him the window she meant. He had to drag on his jeans, but she wouldn’t let him take the time to put on a shirt. “It’s not that cold out. Besides, I like looking at all those blacksmithy muscles.”

He complied, his unshaven face slightly pink with pleasure. “If you insist.” They stood on the porch.

“This is the window. See how it looks like there are two next to each other? But only one is lit up.”

“I think you might have something there, general.”

Excitement coursed through her as they started back inside to examine the interior wall. “Let me get some tools from my truck,” he said as she went back in.

“Hurry! I’m dying here!” she said, fairly dancing around the foyer in front of the wall in question. “Look—you can see the seam in the paneling if you look carefully enough.”

“Patience, woman,” he growled, but he went immediately to the wall and began to examine it. Then he laughed. “The molding around the real window. Look.” He shifted the old, carved piece of wood that framed the window and a door slid open—easy as pie.

“Oh my God,” Leslie squealed, not caring that she sounded like a girl. A girl could get very excited over secret panels and hidden stairways…and maybe even jewels. “Is anything in there?” she demanded.

But he’d stepped back, smiling at her with affection. “It’s your house, Leslie. You look.”

The space was small—just big enough for four bottles of liquor to stand in a tight square. There was one bottle still in there…and something else. Leslie’s heart leaped when she saw the lump in the back of the space, and she locked eyes with Declan as she reached in—only belatedly realizing it could be a dead rodent.

But it wasn’t. It was a velvet pouch, and it had a mass of hard objects in it; she could tell that as soon as she touched it. Her hands shook.

“Oh my God, Declan,” she breathed as she pulled it out. It clinked softly.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he said, practically breathing down her neck.

With trembling fingers, she pulled the pouch’s cord loose and tipped it so the contents spilled out onto his cupped hands.

Sparkles: rubies, garnets, sapphires, emeralds…a cascade of jewels, still in their elaborate settings, tumbled into his hands in a rainbow pool.

“Oh…my…” she breathed, hardly able to believe her eyes. “Oh…wow… They’re beautiful.”

“Whoa,” he said, looking down at the treasure he held. He shifted his fingers so the gems moved and sparkled. Then he took the pouch from her and slid the jewelry back inside.

“All right,” he said with a lascivious grin, “let’s celebrate!”

* * *

A long while later—thank goodness it was Sunday and neither Leslie nor Declan had to be anywhere today, and Stephanie was more than happy to be hanging out with the girlfriend with whom she’d spent the night—Leslie slipped lazily from her well-used bed.

She looked down at the delicious man lying there, tumbled among the sheets with his dark hair glinting faintly red from the shaft of sunlight shining through the window. The broad, muscular shoulder, dusted with bronze freckles. The thick-lashed eyes, closed in repose. The slack jaw, unshaven and glinting red and gold and brown. The powerful, gentle, skilled hand curled on the sheet next to him.

Her heart swelled, and she drew in a soft little hope that this would only be the first of many days like this.

I’m totally falling for you, my blacksmith scout.

She toddled off to shower, her legs still a little unsteady from all of the delightful “celebrating” they’d done…some of which had included her modeling the different necklaces.

Whether the gems were real or not, it didn’t matter…for she’d found her own personal treasure in Declan Zyler.

Leslie hummed and smiled the whole time she was in the shower, half expecting him to join her.

Instead, when she came out of the bathroom, hair wrapped in a towel and body swathed in a fluffy pink robe, she found Declan sitting up in her bed. He was reading.

It wasn’t until she got closer that she realized just which book he was looking at, and she dove for it in an attempt to snatch it away.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, laughing as he held it out of her reach. The towel holding her hair slumped to the side and her robe gapped. “I found this on your bedside table. Love’s Forbidden Caress? I couldn’t help but look at it. And what should I discover, but the guy is a blacksmith.” He was laughing as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively while she tried to grab the old book from him.

She gave up—his arms were too long—and collapsed on the bed next to him. “So, yeah. It’s one of my favorite books, okay?”

“And it’s about a hot blacksmith?”

She shoved at him because he sounded much too satisfied. “I found it one summer when I was in college. And I read it. A few times. So, yeah.” She glowered at him, challenging him to tease her about it.

“Well, it looks pretty good so far. I mean, I’ve only gotten to the part when he takes her against the wall of the smithy—not very realistic, I’ll say, and really dangerous—but I can kind of see the attraction.”

“That’s halfway through the book!” she exclaimed, trying once more to grab it from him. Her cheeks were burning.

This time he acquiesced and let her have the book. “I was flipping through, looking for the good parts. I mean, with a cover like that, I knew there had to be good parts.”

He smiled down at her, and there was deep warmth in his emerald eyes. “I’ve been waiting for a woman—notice I didn’t say girl—like you for a long time, Leslie…and apparently, you’ve been waiting for a blacksmith like me. So what do you say we really try and work this thing out?”

She laughed, blossoming with happiness and warmth. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard in forever.”

“Same here.” His eyes narrowed and settled on her thoughtfully. “And since I’m sure you know where all the good parts are, what say you read some of them to me…and then we can act them out?”

* * *

A Note from the Author

* * *

By the way…were you intrigued by the little spitfire Bruce Banner, Juanita Acerita’s papillon? I’d like to introduce you to the inspiration for little Brucie—my own darling papillon named Ranger.

He’s just as feisty as Bruce Banner, and ridiculously cute, as you can see. If you follow me on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter, you’ll find that I often post pics or videos of Ranger.

He likes to lay on top of the floor vent in the kitchen when the furnace is running, so he can stay warm. What a life!

* * *

* * *

Diana Iverson needs a break--from her stressful job, from her philandering boyfriend, and from the rest of her fast-paced life. When she inherits her eccentric Aunt Jean's Wicks Hollow home, Diana takes a much-needed vacation in the cozy little town.

But when the lake house becomes the scene of multiple break-ins, Diana begins to suspect Aunt Jean’s death was not as innocent as it seems.

And then there’s Ethan Murphy, the sexy college professor who lives next door… He appears to know a lot more about Aunt Jean than he should, and Diana doesn’t trust him.

But most of all, there's Aunt Jean herself…who seems determined to communicate with Diana from beyond the grave…

* * *

* * *

When Fiona Murphy inherits a small antiques shop from an old man she met only once, she’s filled with surprise, confusion and delight—and a little bit of terror at having a new responsibility in a life she prefers to be free and easy.

But as she takes over ownership of the quaint shop, odd things begin to happen. Lights come on and off by themselves, even when they are unplugged…and there is a chilly breeze accompanied by the scent of roses even when the windows are closed.

H. Gideon Nath, III, is the stiff and oh-so-proper attorney who helps settle Fiona’s inheritance. Despite her flightiness and fascination with all things New Age (which he considers bunk), he finds himself unwillingly attracted to her.

After she finds an unpleasant surprise in one of the shop’s closets, scares off an intruder in the store, and uses her skill at palmistry to read Gideon’s future—of which she seems to be a part—Fiona begins to realize that her free and easy life is about to change…whether she wants it to or not.

* * *