“No.” McKenzie grinned. “We have a much looser philosophy about the race.”

“Yeah, we don’t care if we win.” Charlie wrapped an arm around McKenzie’s shoulder. “The real prize will be seeing you in a bathing suit.”

McKenzie laughed. “In your dreams, buddy.”

“Let’s dance!” Giselle stood, and Cody caught sight of a butterfly tattoo on her back, just above her belt. Her eyes flashed as she looked at Charlie, who might as well have been a rabid dog. He followed her off, and McKenzie stood, then leaned in close to Cody.

“Do you really have to leave? Just stay for one dance.”

Cody almost turned her down. But he couldn’t keep himself locked away forever. Besides, there were no emotions attached to anyone in that bar. No risk of losing control or acting foolishly.

McKenzie picked up a bottle of beer and stuck it in Cody’s hand. He set it back on the counter.

“Come on, you.” She smiled and sauntered off toward the dance floor—and like an idiot, or like a man desperate to forget about life for a while, he followed.

CHAPTER THIRTY

LOUISA KNEW THE EARLY MORNING TRAINING SESSIONS WEREN’T DATES. She knew that, and yet she prepared for them as if they were.

Because the regatta was technically Coast Guard business, Duncan gave the guys a bit of leeway so they could spend time training with their sailing partners, which meant that Louisa was spending every morning with a very off-limits man who happened to be excellent at sailing and saving lives.

And probably kissing. She bet he was still excellent at kissing.

It had been about a week since they’d found the strange bank statements, and Maggie had been absolutely no help in clarifying anything. The day after they’d unsuccessfully tried to wake her, Louisa had shown the old woman what they’d found, but Maggie’s face was as blank as the day she was born.

“I have people who handle all that for me, dear,” she’d said.

“My father?”

“Used to be. Then he turned me over to some other guy.”

Louisa showed her the first statement after the odd sum showed up in the account. “Around this time?”

Maggie shuffled across the kitchen. She was wearing polyester pants and white tennis shoes, along with a floral button-down top. She danced a little as she walked, which she did often—she said she was moving to the music in her mind.

Maggie hummed. “No idea when.” Then she frowned. “Actually, it wasn’t long after Daniel died. Or maybe before? I don’t know; the details are foggy. I’m old.”

“Why would my father give your portfolio to someone else?” Louisa asked as Maggie filled a bowl with Lucky Charms. “You know those are bad for you, right?”

“I’m so glad the food police have joined me for breakfast,” Maggie quipped.

“I’m just saying,” Louisa said innocently.