“Hey,” he said to their visitor. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
Yvette peeked around Cannon’s bare shoulder and saw the lawyer’s assistant. Despite the heat wave, she had on full makeup, including bright red lips. Beneath a silky blue sleeveless blouse, tan tailored skirt and high-heeled sandals, she looked cool and chic.
And even with Yvette watching her, she ogled Cannon’s naked upper body.
After a slow lick of her glossy lips, she murmured, “You’ve healed up nicely, though I can still see a few faded bruises.”
Yvette’s hair nearly stood on end. Had Mindi seen Cannon shirtless already? Had she—
“Should have seen it before,” Cannon told her, alleviating Yvette’s worry without even knowing it. “I was pretty colorful there for a while. But yeah, I heal quick.” He cocked his head. “So what’s up?”
“I’m sorry to just drop in, Cannon, but you didn’t return my call.”
Another call? Yvette stepped around in front of him.
Mindi slid her gaze over her, taking in all the sweat and dust with barely veiled disdain. “Ms. Sweeny.”
Trying not to sound mean or territorial—no matter how she felt—Yvette said, “Ms. Jarrett.”
Changing tactics, the woman put on a sympathetic face and crooned, “How are you, honey?”
The demeaning tone meant for the “poor little lost girl” cut right through Yvette, leaving a swatch of pain in its wake. “What do you mean?” Just how much of her past did the assistant know?
“You lost your grandfather, relocated... I’m sure it’s been difficult.”
Inner trembling settled, and the constriction left her lungs. So her facade of sympathy wasn’t about the past, but the present. “We’re fine, thank you.” She stressed the word we.
Still with exaggerated pity, one hand to her chest, Mindi asked, “No bad moments?”
Indignation rising, Yvette stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Being back here, in this house? I understand you suffered serious trauma.”
Oh, God. Had Cannon told her everything? Her heart plummeted and sick betrayal rose up to burn her throat.
“I don’t know the details, of course, but your grandfather hinted—”
“What? What did he tell you?” She refused to believe her grandfather had discussed anything with the woman.
“Oh, honey,” she crooned. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Putting his hands on her shoulders, Cannon asked, “What can we do for you, Mindi?”
Nettled, Yvette couldn’t miss how familiarly they addressed each other. She was Ms. Sweeny, but he was simply Cannon.
“We should talk.” Mindi stepped just inside the garage, which left the sun behind her to make a glowing halo of her pale blond hair and her shapely figure.
Yvette disliked her more by the second, but not as much as she disliked the situation.
She would not be a weak person.
Raising her chin, she faced Mindi. “What is there to talk about? Has Mr. Whitaker sent you here for a reason?” There, she thought. Deal with that.
Mindi’s smile hardened. “Frank knows I’m here, if that’s what you mean.” She turned to Cannon. “I didn’t hear back from you.”
“There’s nothing more to talk about,” Cannon said, his hands now massaging Yvette’s shoulders. “We’re staying.”
Mindi fanned a hand in front of her face, trying to stir the heavy air. “But I explained that my friend had upped his offer.”
“Doesn’t change anything,” Cannon said.
Another offer? That was news to Yvette. Just how many times had Mindi called him? Not that it mattered, Cannon was right about that. The longer she remained, the more she wanted it to be forever.
“You haven’t heard the offer,” Mindi said, now trailing her manicured fingertips over the many boxes stacked in the garage.
Yvette hid her hands behind her, until she realized that put them right over Cannon’s fly. His only reaction was to tighten his hold on her shoulders.
Flushing, she pulled them around front again, curling her hands to hide her short fingernails. “I’m not selling.”
Smiling, Cannon repeated, “We’re not selling.”
The sweet scent of Mindi’s expensive perfume dissipated in the musty garage. “You realize that staying here, in this house, doesn’t require you to keep the pawnshop.” As Mindi said that, she looked at Yvette. “You have a big career that leaves little time for unimportant distractions.”
Getting the not-so-subtle message that she was an unimportant distraction, Yvette shimmered with anger. “I’ll run the shop.”
“And you can buy out Cannon?” Mindi lifted one box lid to peek inside, but bubble wrap hid the contents. “Because I know half of it was his.”
“What it is,” Cannon said firmly, stepping around Yvette to close the box again, “is none of your business.”
Both women stared at him. It surprised Yvette that he could say something so insulting without any sign of anger. He’d sounded almost tender, as if he’d given the woman a compliment.
Of course she knew he had a reputation for making friends with every woman he met, but she’d never seen him in action before.
“True, of course.” Mindi’s mouth pursed and annoyance narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping myself, but—”