COOPER AND REECE SAT ON the beachfront patio of Old Salt’s Bar & Grill, one of a handful of eateries that lined the beach around Port Clara’s main dock and marina. Max had slipped away somewhere. Cooper suspected his younger cousin’s disappearance might have something to do with pretty, bikini-clad Jane, Allie Bateman’s neighbor. Max was a smart guy, consistently Remington Industries’ top sales executive. But when it came to beautiful women, he lost his ability to reason.

“So, what do you think?” Reece asked.

“I think she’s gorgeous,” Cooper automatically replied. Okay, so Max wasn’t the only one whose head could be turned by a pretty girl.

Reece’s jaw dropped. “The Dragonfly? She’s a wreck.”

“I was talking about Allie Bateman.”

“Oh.” Reece took off his glasses and absently polished them with his napkin. “I suppose she’s okay, but what does that have to do with anything? She’s on our boat. Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

“Unlikely.” In his experience, beautiful young women like Allie didn’t have to rely on honesty. They used their physical assets to subdue a guy’s natural defenses, then manipulated facts and situations to suit their desires. “I’ll call a legal researcher I know in Austin and have him check out this supposed will. But my first inclination is to believe it’s bogus. Allie’s not even a blood relation.”

“Maybe she’s not related to Johnny, but I doubt she’s a stranger,” Reece pointed out. “She was probably his girlfriend.”

Cooper curled his lip in distaste. He didn’t want to picture his seventy-something-year-old uncle and young, vibrant Allie Bateman…blech.

“Maybe even his common-law wife,” Reece added.

Cooper took a long sip of his coffee as he contemplated the gentle waves lapping at the beach below. “He wouldn’t have changed his will.”

“Why not? None of us have seen him in years.”