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the cabinet, then paused, pinching the bridge of her nose while she anticipated her next move.
    Esther rarely made cookies. So why had she done so after work tonight? Because a man’s heart is through his stomach? Hogwash. She’d wanted a treat. That was her reasoning…and she was sticking to it.
    Opening the cookie jar, she selected a few cookies and arranged them on a plate. Irritation riffled up her back. If she could only control her wavering emotions. She calmed herself as she poured the brew into the cups, and after she placed everything on a tray, she returned to her office.
    “I could smell you before you came through the doorway,” Ian said. He hesitated, his expression wavering. “I mean…the coffee. I could smell the coffee. Not you.”
    His discomfort caused her to laugh. “I realized you meant the coffee.” She set the tray on the desk and handed him a cup and napkin, adding the option of milk or sugar. He declined.
    “Would you like a cookie?” She extended the plate. “Homemade.” She cringed, hearing her Betty Homemaker pride.
    “They look good,” he said, and slid one from the plate. “I’m partial to peanut butter.”
    “Take two…or three.” She shoved the plate toward him for encouragement.
    He picked up a couple more and placed them on the napkin. “Thanks. I don’t get homemade often.”
    “Same here,” she said, and wished she hadn’t.
    Sliding into her desk chair, Esther focused on her drink. Silence hung between them as they sipped the coffee and bit into the sweets. Esther wrestled with what to say next. Should she ask about sailing? Maybe sticking to business would be less stressful. The unwelcome feeling of loneliness washed over her as she weighed her options.
    “Did you enjoy sailing?” she asked finally. “How was that first weekend?”
    His head moved at a snail’s pace to meet her gaze while a look of surprised pleasure settled on his face. “It was great. Thanks.” His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned forward, resting an arm on his knee, a half-eaten cookie dangling from his fingers. “You should have been there. She handles like a dream. I have to thank you for your help.”
    She shook her head. “I only showed you where tofind the books. You did the research and worked the miracle.”
    A faint grin curved his mouth. “It was a miracle of sorts. That poor lady was in bad shape. I didn’t know how bad until I got inside, but she looks great now.”
    “Yes. She did when I saw her,” Esther said. “Just be…careful when you’re out there. Keep an eye and ear on the weather.” She swallowed her mothering thoughts. “You know…”
    “I do know.” He set his cup on the table and brushed cookie crumbs from his fingers. “My dad and I sailed years ago. He taught me everything I know about sailing. Not only the skill—he pounded a lot of his insight into my head. Wisdom and caution when it comes to sailing.” He gave her a warm smile. “Each time I sail I hope to honor him.”
    “Honor your father and mother,” Esther said. Hearing her voice surprised her. She cleared her throat and ran her fingers across the back of her neck. “I suppose we should get started.”
    “Good idea,” Ian said, but his look let her know he suspected her comment had a deeper meaning.
    She moved her mug aside and pulled forward a manila folder. Inside she’d made her notes, anticipating his needs. “Now…where should we begin?” When she lifted her eyes from the paper, she noticed his faint grin.
    “I always think the beginning is good.”
    His fleeting smile sent her heartbeat skipping for a moment. “You’re right.” Quieting her pulse, she took a minute to scan the information. “First, weneed to compile a list of all aspects involved in owning excursion boats. Purchase price, storage and maintenance, crew costs.” She lifted her gaze. “Their wages and benefits.”
    Ian nodded, shifting his chair closer to eye her notepad. “Insurance.”
    “Yes,