Lone Star Legacy. Roxanne Rustand

you just want the local gossips to take care of things.”

      Joel felt his defenses rise, his muscles tense. “Gossips?”

      She gave a delicate shrug. “People know I work here and that you’re remodeling the clinic, so they ask me. Walt said you were a cop, but I’ve heard rumors that you are an ex-CIA agent, an FBI agent, or a private investigator.”

      He sighed heavily. “Detroit PD. Worked a lot of areas, though the last was homicide. I…just burned out, and needed a change.”

      He’d made a career of being good at noticing small details. Reading body language. Analyzing behavior and motivation. But even a rookie couldn’t have missed the subtle shift of her position, or the brief flare of uneasiness in her eyes.

      And he realized that though she’d been superficially friendly, she’d probably been even less forthcoming about her background than him—and was better at blithely skirting subtle questions, too.

      “I’m sure it was a tough career,” she murmured.

      “Challenging. So about Saturday—”

      “Mistake. A big mistake.” She seemed to cast around for an excuse, then brightened. “Since we’re working together and all.”

      “There’s a rule? In Walt’s clinic?”

      “I’m sure there must be.” Her gaze skated away. “Or there should be.”

      He tried to remember if he’d been turned down with such determination. Probably never, because he and his wife had been high school sweethearts and married young. Later, he’d lost all interest in any sort of social life after the heart-wrenching loss of their daughter, and a subsequent divorce so acrimonious that he still felt singed by Andrea’s anger and accusations.

      Then he realized that he hadn’t quite made his intentions clear. “The town’s annual street dance and barbecue is Saturday night. I just thought the evening could be casual—something between friends.”

      Beth’s brittle smile was tinged with disbelief. “You step out on the sidewalk, and I’ll bet some gal will swoop by and gladly help you out.”

      “I am not looking for a relationship, period. The last thing I’d ever do is settle down again, but the local mommas all have hopeful young things looking for a white picket fence and commitment, and they aren’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

      “So, say it louder.”

      “And disrespect someone’s mother? I just figure bringing a date might cool down some of the interest that has come my way.”

      Her hand fluttered to the thin white scar that traced a faint line from her temple to the corner of her jaw, just below her ear. “I really don’t think—”

      “Just two acquaintances out for a good time, nothing more than that. Hey, we can talk business the whole time. And the more people see you around town, the more they’ll sit up and take notice when you open the café.”

      “Now that,” she retorted with a dry laugh, “is a pretty far reach.”

      “Whatever it takes.” And oddly enough, he realized it was true.

      Walt had insisted that Joel meet him for some good Texas barbecue at the festivities, and Joel had figured it might be a good chance to learn a little more about Beth—away from the constant flow of clients in the clinic. But now, he realized just how much he enjoyed her company, and that he really wanted her to come along. She was smart, and witty, and—