“I made Ethan promise no cop-speak if I managed to talk you into going to his house for dinner with me on Saturday night. And here I’m guilty of doing the same thing. Really, that part of my life is behind me. The most dangerous thing I’ll be doing in the future is breaking a green horse or two. Not for a while, either.” He smoothed his thumb over the soft skin on the back of her hand. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, Gilly. I’m a normal, everyday Joe now.”

She pulled her hand loose, unable to decide if he was trying too hard to convince her. Was he attempting to lure her into his web of deceit? No matter. At the moment he represented the only tie she had to the men in the blue car. The men who most likely had her small suitcase. Gillian shoved the mangled packet of crackers under the edge of her plate and picked up her spoon again. “Sorry. I may not be keen on eating while talking about bullet wounds, but there are aspects of detective work I find fascinating.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She rolled one shoulder. “Methods used to find stuff that’s lost or stolen.” Realizing she might be sticking her neck out too far, Gillian ignored the escalated pounding of her heart and plunged on. “I’m reading a mystery that opens with hidden documents,” she improvised. “The character who hid them dies suddenly, but not before sending a garbled note to a friend saying his, uh, girlfriend had the key to wherever he’d hidden the papers. No one can find the key. So, ex-detective Valetti, where do you suppose he put those documents?”

Mitch polished off his hamburger, took a sip of lemonade and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Skip ahead to the last chapter and find out.”

“Thanks a lot. Somehow I doubt you did that on your cases.”

He laughed. “You like mysteries, huh? Police procedurals? Well, well, I guess that means you’ll enjoy spending the evening with me, Ethan and his wife, Regan. Dinner’s at six this coming Saturday. Where shall I pick you up?”

Gillian had walked into that one with her eyes wide-open. This was where he’d been headed all along. She felt the control she wanted to maintain slipping out of her hands. “Tell me where the Knights live. I’ll meet you there.”

“Huh? What kind of date is that?”

“No date.” Rising, she stacked their dirty dishes. “Take it or leave it.”

“Sheesh, woman. Okay.” He heaved a sigh. “Hand over a pencil and tear off an order form. I’ll write down their address and draw you a map. Starting from where? Where do you live?”

“If I wanted you to know that,” she said, “I’d have agreed to let you come by for me. Start at the café. I’ll find my way from here.”

Mitch fiddled with the pencil. “You really aren’t very trusting. Makes me wonder about your ex. I know you said your divorce wasn’t bitter, but I’ve seen abuse before. If he knocked you around, it’s better to admit it. Getting all that out helps heal the wounds.”

Hit hard by his unexpected strike at Daryl, Gillian felt a sudden welling of tears. With her hands full of dishes, she couldn’t brush them away. Mitch, of course, saw her blinking frantically. “You’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion about my marriage,” she finally managed to say. “My ex-husband’s only mistake was that he married the wrong woman.” She paused. “On second thought, I’m not ready to participate in a couples thing.”

“Sure you are,” Mitch insisted, stuffing the address he’d written into her apron pocket. “An evening playing cards and having a few laughs has gotta beat sitting home alone reading a bad mystery.”

“No, Mitch. Look, I was wrong to think—”

He touched a finger to her lips. “Don’t think. Please.”

Before Gillian could answer one way or the other, the front door banged open and Royce Jones stomped in. He had a wild look in his eyes as he made straight for her and Mitch. This time, his sidekicks were missing, Gillian noted. Which probably meant he was more likely than not to start a brawl.

Mitch, his gait always slow and uneven after he’d sat a while, remembered Ethan’s warning. The last thing he wanted was to bring trouble down on Bert and Flo. Nor did he want an unpleasant scene in front of Gillian. Especially after he’d been so quick to tell her that trouble didn’t follow him anymore.

“Royce.” Mitch stuck out his hand in greeting and worked to keep his voice level. “Long time no see. I talked to your wife a week or so ago. She asked if I’d be interested in a possible contract job. Never got back to me. I guess her department wouldn’t kick loose with the funds. You know how that goes. Say, have you met Flo and Bert’s new waitress?” He eased far enough to one side to reveal Gillian, who still clutched their empty dishes.

“We haven’t actually met.” Royce grudgingly transferred his attention from Mitch to Gillian. The ploy worked to defuse some of his bluster.

“Gillian, Royce Jones. Royce, Gillian Stevens,” Mitch segued right into formal introductions. Unleashing a chuckle, he lightly tapped the man in uniform on the shoulder. “Frankly, buddy, your timing stinks. You interrupted me in the middle of asking this lady for a date. Now, maybe being an old married man and all, you might’ve forgotten how long it takes a guy to get up the courage to ask out somebody new. I’m here to tell you it hasn’t gotten any easier. Since you did interrupt, the least you can do is vouch for my character.”

Gillian shifted the dishes, almost dropping them. Mitch Valetti had amazing nerve. Apparently Royce Jones thought so too, judging by the way his jaw went slack.

Mitch waited, his face carefully masked.

The charade dragged on for several minutes; Gillian regained her poise and sense of humor. Donning a properly cynical smile, she let her gaze travel between the two men. “If you have to work that hard on an endorsement,” she told Royce, “it’s probably just as well if I turn him down now and give him time to ask someone else to be his date at the Knights’ dinner party.”

“What? I thought you’d agreed to go.” It was obvious from Mitch’s face that he hadn’t expected his machinations to backfire.

Royce suddenly found the whole situation amusing. He laughed, lording it over Mitch and his predicament. “Well, Valetti, ’pears to me your reign as Desert City’s stud has come to an end.”

“Come on, Jones. Fun is fun. I’m trying to be serious here. Ethan said you think I made a pass at Christy. I didn’t. Never have. Never would.”

Royce tucked his hands under his bulging biceps and scowled. “Don Billings said he saw you two right here, tight as termites. Said you were coming on to the waitress, but the minute Christy walked in, things changed.”

“Excuse me.” Gillian regained their attention. “Mitch was drinking coffee at the counter. I was eating lunch. Two separate entities. Christy asked to talk to him about a job. Mitch carried his cup over and sat at her table. In the center of a packed room. There was nothing private about their meeting. You asked me that day to clarify what happened. I said the same thing then. It was strictly business.”

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