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teeth and a light, suspiciously even tan, he had just enough of a beard shadow to keep him from looking feminine.
    “Jed.” Nathan nodded.
    “How’s your uncle? He up to having visitors?” Jed the hunter asked.
    “No. Uncle Aaron’s not supposed to be around any people right now.” Sadness crossed the blond man’s face. “His immune system’s depressed from the chemo.”
    “Oh. Right.” Jed deflated. “Damned shame. Aaron’s the best tracker around. He totally missed deer
and
moose season.”
    “I’ll let him know you were asking for him.” Nathan turned to Jayne. His bright blue eyes barely touched on her cheek. “Who do we have here?”
    “I’m Jayne.”
    “Hello, Jayne. And welcome. I’m Nathan Hall, owner of this modest establishment and mayor of Huntsville.” He enveloped her hand with both of his. His palms were rougher than she’d expected, but his demeanor was smoother than Ben and Jerry’s Dulce Delish. Though the mayor was polished enough to keep his gaze off her scar, it lingered on her boobs for a second too long. “What brings you to our little hamlet?”
    Jayne extracted her fingers and leaned back. “I’m a photographer.”
    “Really?” Nathan gestured toward the seat opposite Jayne. “May I?”
    The mayor was a bit of a letch, but he probably knew everyone in town. Jayne couldn’t afford to pass up any possible source of information. She surveyed the dining room. A dozen other patrons were scattered among the booths and tables. Safe enough. “Sure.”
    “Mandy, could I get some coffee, please?” Nathan motioned to the waitress. His gaze lingered a little too long on the pretty brunette, but he wasn’t leering. His eyes were filled with real warmth when he looked at Mandy. Clearly there was something going on between the diner owner and his employee. He turned the
Times
article so he could read it. “Interesting. I suppose you like art?”
    “Oh, yes. Are you familiar with R. S. Morgan?”
    “No. Can’t say that I am.” The mayor shook his head. “I’m afraid Huntsville is a very humble town. No exclusive art galleries. We do have some excellent local artisans, though, includingour own excellent wood-carver.” The mayor paused to sip his coffee.
    Could it be that easy?
    Jayne popped a French fry into her mouth and rearranged her poker face, but her pulse did a quick jig. Next to her, Jed stood in the aisle, leaning over to get a better view of the picture.
    The mayor set his cup in the saucer. “Mark Stewart at the lumberyard carves the most lifelike ducks. And Martha at the Craft Depot sells handmade quilts.”
    “Sounds lovely.” Jayne hid her disappointment by finishing off her club sandwich. Her editor wasn’t going to pay for pictures of a duck carver.
    “I’d be happy to give you a personal tour of our town,” Mayor Hall offered. “Including introductions to all Huntsville’s artists.”
    Jayne swallowed. Looking for an excuse to make a hasty exit, she checked the display on her phone. The mayor’s interest didn’t feel entirely professional, and even if it was, she did not get into cars with strange men. “I’d love to, but I have to run. Can I have a rain check?”
    Nathan considered. “How about tomorrow? The snow shouldn’t be an issue until midday. You’re staying at the inn, right?”
    “Yes.” This town wasn’t small; it was microscopic. She had no problem with a tiny white lie to avoid spending time alone with the mayor. “But I’ll have to let you know. I have a conference call.”
    “I’ll stop by in the morning.” Ugh. The mayor had crossed into the too-pushy-for-comfort zone. She glanced at his left hand, casual-like. No wedding ring. Double ugh.
    “OK.” Jayne’s face ached as she faked enthusiasm. “But no promises.”
    “I understand. Tell Mae to save me a blueberry muffin.”
    “You bet. I should get moving.” Jayne scooted out of the booth. The hunter was still standing in the aisle, staring at the article and