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Then why did I still feel ready to bolt?

"I meant to ask how your appointment at the sheriff's office went," Paul said as he pulled into a parking spot in front of The River's Bend.

Oh yes, that topic.

"But I didn't want to bring it up in front of your family."

"Thanks," I said, grateful for his perception. "Everyone's been a little reactive. Detective Thurman told me they determined Blackie didn't kill Valerie."

He turned off the ignition and we got out of the car. "What else?"

My mouth went dry.

His eyebrow arched, ever so slightly, and was followed a couple of beats later by the beginnings of a smile.

I meant to sanitize my response but it had a life of its own. "They, um, seem to think I'm a person of interest."

You blurted that right out. How did he know you left out information, and what's he smiling about? This is amusing?

"That means they don't have any leads. I'd worry more about Greg. Are you filing a complaint?"

"No." My tone meant to imply the subject was closed.

"I think you should consider it." He held the door of the tavern open for me, but I stopped and faced him.

"I don't see the point. He's grieving. He didn't know what he was doing. It won't happen again."

"Don't make excuses for him, Thea."

He was issuing an order? I bristled. "I'm not. I can't see how overreacting -" His frown stopped me. It wasn't anger. Something else. What did he know? "Unless you think…"

But the expression on his face became neutral and he backed down. "Do what you think is best. I'm probably being too cautious." He broke eye contact.

Damn. I hadn't intended to sound so bossy. I chewed my lip and considered telling him about my visit from Frederick Parsons. No, bad idea. I didn't want to think about what he'd have to say if I brought that up. I'd handled it well enough, and I sure as heck didn't want a lecture.

"Mr. Rucker hasn't shown up again, has he?" he asked, motioning me through the door.

"No, but I saw him in the lobby at the sheriff's office."

Paul shot me a concerned look. "He talked to you?"

"Yeah. It was kind of one sided – on his part. But he was already mad when he came flying out of the inner office."

"What did he say?" He stopped and looked around the tavern.

"Not much. He left in a hurry. I never did find out why he was there." I could handle Randy. I wasn't helpless.

"Huh." Paul slid me another brief look.

Damn. Had I said that out loud?

The waitress passed by and told Paul, with a flirty wink, to sit anywhere. He acknowledged her with a nod and threaded his way across the room to a table with a view. I followed a few steps behind, certain I'd put him off.

"Is this okay?" He indicated the table.

"Yes. Fine. Perfect." I sat in the chair he held for me. The smile I hoped was polite and friendly didn't seem to be earning me any points. He turned his attention out the large window to the Snohomish River that passes almost at the base of the building.

For lack of a better idea, I copied him, taking in the familiar scenery. The trees along the river bank were leafing out. They looked fresh and new against the river's dark, sinuous current. High clouds edged the last glow of the evening sky off to the west. Stars would soon be visible but, sadly, I knew it wouldn't last. It was a typical, nice, Northwest evening that announced rain was on its way.

"This is a great place to come in the summer," I said, too chipper. Paul, opposite me at the little table, looked in the direction I'd fluttered my hand. "They have a jazz band some evenings and it's a nice place to kick back and relax." Cripes. I not only sounded like a Chamber of Commerce ad, but as if I was planning future dates. "A little too cold to be out on the deck in April, though." Oh, duh, Thea.

He settled back in his chair, elbows on the arm rests, and regarded me in slightly amused silence.

Shoot me now.

I smiled at him. And swallowed.

He smiled back. His Adam's apple bobbed.

The waitress provided a welcomed distraction to what was rapidly becoming a disaster of a date. We ordered our drinks and passed on the appetizers. As I watched her walk away from the table, her white apron ties swinging across her very round butt, it occurred to me soccer might be a good topic. How much worse could I screw up? I plunged on, asking about his team.

"I joined a couple of weeks ago," he said, plucking a packet of sugar from the little dish on the table and examining it. "We had an informal league down at the U. Mostly grad students, a few of the staff. It's easier for me to play here since I moved."

He put the sugar back in its holder and picked up the salt shaker, turning the little glass container in his fingers. I watched, fascinated. He had a magician's hands. Strong and quick. Not a scholar's hands. I wanted to touch them. Oh cripes, you've been staring at him! I looked out the window and grappled for another topic.

"Do you do any sports, other than riding?" he asked.

"No, I'm afraid not." I tried not fixate on him. "Juliet is the one who dabbles in different activities. I tend to stick with one thing." I was so boring.

And I couldn't stop staring. I dragged my gaze to the visual refuge out the window once more. Quick find another category. I'll take Mutual Acquaintances for five-hundred, Alex. No question about it. I was losing it.

I cleared my throat. "Have you known Eric long?" I glanced at him, then found a tether for my disobedient eyes in the napkin holder. But he hadn't been looking at me, so I snuck another lingering peek at his face. Regular, masculine features-not handsome-pretty like Jonathan, but pleasing. Lean, but not sharp. I could detect his Italian heritage. Silky eyebrows… they had to be soft. Deep-set blue eyes framed by black lashes, fastened on me – oops.

Our drinks arrived, saving me. Paul shifted in his chair. "Yeah, a while. He took a class from me at the Bothell campus, which is when I found out he worked for my aunt at Copper Creek." This time he spoke to me instead of the inanimate objects on the table.

"Huh." I considered this. "I knew he took some classes. Is he working toward a degree?"

"He's been working on his B.S. for a while. He's majoring in computer science. I expect he'll graduate next year. He just got a bit of extra cash, so he can take classes more regularly now."

"Juliet never said anything." In fact, she told me precious little about her relationship with Eric. She used to tell me everything.

"I hope I haven't spoken out of turn." He drew a line through the condensation on his glass with his index finger then picked up his drink sipped and set it down a little further from him. "Maybe you'd best not mention anything yet. I'm not sure Delores knows. She depends on him, but he can't support a family on what he makes there – not these days, anyway."

Whoa. That got my attention. "A family?"

"I'm guessing." He rubbed his jaw. "Eric hasn't said anything, but knowing him, I expect he's making plans."

"Juliet?"

He nodded. "Who else? He's had his eye on her for a long time."

"Ohhhh…" Huh. Something else I didn't know.

Conversation turned slightly more personal. I asked him about his job, my next category of choice. He leaned back in his chair, an elbow on the armrest, and talked about teaching at the university and some of the projects he was involved with. And he smiled. A real smile that animated his eyes. It drew me in, nudging me forward in my chair, tickling my curiosity, rewarding the questions I asked as he talked. I watched his face, his hands, his posture, as he painted vivid images of the places he had been, digging fossils and discovering bits of creatures long dead, that no human had ever seen. His stories seduced me with the suspense of the hunt, transported me to windy mountain sides and dusty deserts, thrilled me when a stroke of luck revealed a dramatic discovery. How lucky his students were to have him for a teacher.