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follow Cady’s conversational thread. Something about a retirement home, no more Bingo, strip poker, and a lonely man named Gerald. About the only thing he got out of it was that this was her way of explaining why she didn’t show for their meeting at the library yesterday. Though honestly, she could have been reciting Latin hymns for all the sense it was making. Wishing for a pair of earplugs, he laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. The scent of her perfume grabbed him by the short hairs. He was going to cry, right here in this tiny tin can of a car. Forget the sexual tension. Every damned thing about Cady Eaton was gonna kill him.

Chapter 5
    “Again, I am so sorry—”
    “It’s fine. Just don’t ... no more apologies. Please?” Burke shook his head and accepted the glass of beer from the waitress.
    Cady lifted her own heavy stein and took a few swallows of the pilsner. The hoppy flavor slid down her parched throat. It was enough to make her smile. Almost. Ending the day at Smitty’s bar seemed a fitting choice after the day they’d had. And it had been her own stupid fault, of course. She drew a design in the condensation on her glass, too embarrassed to meet her new employer’s gaze.
    She’d insisted on taking her piece-of-crap car to show off her town. They’d made it to Shaky Bridge just fine. The wheezing started on the way to the cove, where she’d introduced Burke to some of the lobstermen that were coming back with the day’s haul. Lucille had made it halfway up the narrow, winding road to the lighthouse when she coughed, sputtered, let out a sound like she’d eaten a whole pot of Saturday night beans, and died.
    Of course, the tow truck driver was the same guy she’d turned down for the prom. She would swear there had been a satisfied gleam in his eye when he’d given her his exorbitant bill. Pat Murphy was now married and Cady had lost count of how many times he’d become a proud papa. With an impressive beer gut and more hair on his chin than his head, he just paid proof to the theory that there was someone for everyone.
    She’d wheedled a ride back to Burke’s cottage from Pat, feeling only slightly guilty that she made Burke sit in the middle. The cab of the tow truck was cramped and the look on Burke’s face made it plain that she would regret the fact that he was forced to touch thighs with their burly driver.
    Cady raised the glass to her lips, only to realize that it was already empty. She set it back down, a small moue pushing her mouth into a pout.
    “Why do I get the feeling you could drink me under the table any day?” Burke watched her, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.
    Cady opened her mouth to respond, decided it was better to let him believe this, and snapped it shut again. She flashed him a smile that she hoped looked mysterious.
    The waitress approached then and Cady took the liberty of ordering the seafood platter for each of them. The food here was to die for.
    When the server left, Burke’s gaze was caught by something behind her and he frowned. He lowered his voice and leaned across the scarred table to be heard over the din of conversation and the crack of colliding balls at the pool table.
    “So, at what point does a stranger stop being interesting enough to stare at?” He jerked his shoulder in a
see-what-I-mean
gesture. She whipped her head around to catch a group of locals staring at her ruffled tablemate.
    “What? The attention doesn’t flatter you?” Cady winked.
    “Seriously. People greet you like you’re their best friend, but they look at me like I’ve got three heads. I’m going to need them to let down their guard and trust me to tell their story for the magazine.”
    “This is good. They’re curious. See the one with the bright red beard? That’s Farmer Zach. In the summer he runs the biggest fruit and veggie stand. In the fall he sets up a really spooky corn maze. I say we put him on the list for tomorrow’s