Elise Davenport was not having a good night. Just the day before she put her whole career on the line thanks to a few glasses of champagne. Loose lips can sink ships, and they can obliterate your social status. So here she was, stumbling through Fairhaven Park in pitch blackness, looking for the cabin she rented. She'd just hung up the phone with her agent when she heard the rumbling growl come from beside her. Not a good night at all.
Dietrich Best was trying to play it cool. The young lady now sitting next to his Gram looked him up and down, her eyes stopping on his washboard abs. But soon they made their way up, locking with his. She knew. Somehow she knew.