“Absolutely.” Flynn unfolded himself from the couch. “Man, it’s good to see you.”
“Same here. Big house. Great dog. Bad couch.”
With a laugh, Flynn swung his arms around his oldest friend. “Really good to see you.”
For a moment, just an instant, as she watched the two grown men hug, Dana’s heart softened. Whatever else she could say about Jordan Hawke—and the list was long—he was and had always been Flynn’s. As much brother, she supposed, as friend.
Then those hot blue eyes met hers and baked her heart hard again.
“How about that beer, Stretch? We can play catch-up and you can tell me how you got roped into looking for imaginary keys.”
She shot her brother one accusatory look, then jerked her chin up. “Unlike the two of you, I actually have things to do.”
“Don’t you want to see the painting?”
That nearly stopped her, but giving in to curiosity would’ve spoiled her exit. She continued to the door and strode out without a backward glance.
She had things to do, all right. The first of which was to carve a wax doll in Jordan’s image and stick pins in sensitive areas.
“Did you have to piss her off?” Flynn demanded.
“My breathing pisses her off
.” And knowing that put a little hole in his gut. “How come she’s not living here? The house is big enough.”
“She won’t.” With a shrug, Flynn led the way back to the kitchen. “Wants her own space and blah-blah. You know Dana. Once her mind’s set you can’t move her with a forklift.”
“Tell me about it.”
Because Moe was dancing around, Flynn dug out a dog biscuit and flipped it to him before getting the beers. “You brought the painting?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what it’s going to tell you.”
“Me either. I’m hoping it tells Malory something.”
“So when am I going to meet this Malory?” Jordan leaned back against the counter.
“I don’t know. Soon.”
“I thought there was a deadline on this deal,” Jordan said.
“Yeah, yeah. We’ve still got a couple weeks.”
“Problem, pal?”
“No. Maybe. We’ve gotten tangled up, and it’s getting really serious really fast. I can’t think.”
“What’s she like?”
“Smart, funny, sexy.”
“You put sexy third.” Jordan gestured with his beer. “That’s serious. What else?”
“Goal-oriented, I’d say.” He began to pace. “With a kind of tidy nature. Honest. Not much game-playing there. Grounded. You could say she’s grounded, which is why her getting wound up in this key business makes it all seem possible. She’s got blue eyes. Big blue eyes,” Flynn sighed.
“Again, the physical falls well down the list. You’re stuck on her.”
Uneasy, Flynn lifted his beer. “There are degrees of being stuck.”