“Most of us like the familiar,” he consoled her. “Why else am I here so often?”
Her laugh, free of strain, rewarded him.
Replete, they sipped coffee. Tony was glad they were sharing the restaurant with so few customers. In something like another hour, the dinner crowd would start filtering in. Not that he and Beth had discussed anything he didn’t want overheard; in fact, they’d managed to avoid any talk about the investigation or her family, except briefly after the pediatrician had intruded.
She wanted to pay her share of the bill, but Tia Paloma never brought one. When she came by the table, Beth tried to persuade Tony’s aunt to take her money but failed.
“No, no!” Tia Paloma waved her hands vehemently. “Tony is family. You’re his friend. No, impossible.”
“We’re not really friends. We’re…sort of working together.”
His aunt backed away, lapsing into a spate of Spanish, saying that if Beth came for lunch alone the next day, she could pay, but not when she was with Tony.
Beth laughed and gave up. “Then, gracias. I have a new favorite dish.”
Aunt Paloma retreated in satisfaction, winking at him over her shoulder.
“I think… I might go home,” Beth said, sliding out of the booth. “I’d intended to grocery shop but, now that I’ve had dinner, I can wait until tomorrow.”
He hesitated but decided to be honest. Again. He was developing a big mouth where Beth was concerned. “I’m going to try to catch your sister.”
“By surprise?”
“I’d rather,” he said, “but I’m not totally set on it, or I wouldn’t have told you.” He watched her absorb that.
“I won’t warn her.”
They started for the front, which necessitated passing by only a few tables from Dr. Schuh and his friends. Without thinking, Tony laid a hand on Beth’s back, ostensibly to steer her. Good God, was he making some kind of claim? Why? Because he hadn’t liked the man’s insistence that she call him if she needed anything?
She’s supposed to call you? a small voice taunted.
Yes, damn it!
Way too early to say anything like that. Especially since he wasn’t a hundred percent sure she shared his interest. Whether consciously or unconsciously, she might be trying to soften him, make him more reluctant to pursue her father.
Is it working?
He answered the question confidently. No. He couldn’t let anything he felt for her divert him from the investigation. Or forget how it could end. How many times had he arrested a suspect and removed him from his home, while dodging blows or trying to shut his ears to pleas from distraught family members?
Feeling chilled even as they exited the air-conditioned restaurant into the heat of the day, he knew he shouldn’t have let their relationship get so personal. If—when—he arrested her father, all Beth would have to do was look at him, pain and accusation in her eyes, to deliver a hammer blow.
Of course, he wouldn’t have kissed her anyway, not in the bright sunlight after such a casual meal, and especially not given the potential conflicts. But when he said “I’ll see you in the morning,” he must have sounded remote because her expression closed, too. Her “Thank you for suggesting this” was said in the pleasant tone she saved for strangers.
Watching her maneuver out of her parking spot without so much as glancing his way, Tony swore aloud.
* * *
BETH HAD NO idea what had gone wrong, but Tony—or should she go back to Detective Navarro?—was every bit as cool the next morning when she let them into the garage again. Which was just fine. Good, in fact. Better that she didn’t suffer any romantic delusions.
She wordlessly accepted a new pair of latex gloves and lifted a box from the workbench.
“Wait. Let me—”
“I have it,” she said, setting it on the concrete floor.
His forehead creased. “You don’t have to do any heavy lifting.”
“You’re kidding, right?” She sat in the same lawn chair as yesterday.
He scowled at her. “Why would I be kidding?”
Tart was okay, acid wasn’t, she counseled herself. “Who do you think handled these boxes in the first place? Who do you think cleared this garage?”