stare. “Jacket?” he mumbled, dumbfounded. His gaze lingered for a heartbeat on herbreasts before he met hers. “You look fantastic. Why would you want to cover up?”
She was so caught off balance by his compliment that she again didn’t utter the protest on her tongue when he started walking toward the door. Natalie couldn’t decide what was making her more nervous, the prospect of entering the jam-packed bar or the feeling of Liam’s large, warm hand enclosing her own. She began to think it was the latter, because Liam’s hold was all she really focused on when they entered the dim interior of Jake’s. Thank goodness, or else her anxiety about being in such a public place might have morphed into panic.
The band was in full swing, the singer belting out the refrain from a popular country-rock ballad. Faces swam before her eyes. She was vaguely aware of men and women alike calling out friendly greetings to Liam. An attractive blonde wearing a ruby satin top beneath a tight jean jacket wrapped her hand around his upper arm. To his credit, Liam didn’t pause as he moved through the crowd, and his greeting toward the blonde was friendly, but neutral.
Natalie glanced behind her as they passed and saw the woman staring after Liam with a mixture of longing and irritation at his passing. She thought she knew who the woman was—Betsy Darnel. She’d been in the year behind Eric in school. Betsy’s gaze sharpened on her, as though she’d just noticed Natalie cowering behind Liam’s back.
Roger had already located a booth, apparently only empty because it was too distant to see or hear the band clearly. She slid into the booth, placing her briefcase between herself and the wall. Her breath caught when Liam slid onto the seat next to her and she felt his hip and thigh press against her own. His clean, spicy scent filtered into her nose. She inched toward the wall, trying not to seem too obvious. Liam gave her a sidelong, too-knowing glance and she froze. Their sideswere no longer pressed together, but his hard, jeans-covered thigh still ghosted against her leg.
A waitress came and Liam and Roger exchanged some pleasantries until she returned with their drink orders. After the waitress walked away, Liam got down to business.
“I understand from Joe that you were on Silver Dunes Beach on the night of the crash and saw my father,” Liam began.
At first, Natalie had been puzzled about Liam’s earlier reference to Joe Brown. Natalie knew the gruff old man—he was a Harbor Town old-timer and handyman. He did everything from yard work to simple house repairs to carpentry and painting. Upon reflection, however, she realized it made good sense to use Joe as a reference. Old Joe, as some of the residents fondly referred to him, was an insider to Harbor Town’s history, people and secrets. Joe saw and heard a lot of things in his daily meanderings.
“That’s right,” Roger agreed. “I wasn’t a full-time resident of Harbor Town at the time. I’d come down with some buddies for some R and R and some fishing in Miller Lake,” he said.
“You were staying in one of those vacation cottages near Silver Dune Beach?” Liam clarified.
Roger nodded his gray head and took a swig of his beer. “There’s a path that leads from the cottages to the beach, but you can take another branch off the path toward Miller Lake. I’d left the cottage around sunset and gone down to the lake…” Roger paused and cast an uncertain glance at Liam from beneath shaggy eyebrows.
“I’m not the police chief yet,” Liam said mildly. Unlike Natalie, Roger seemed to understand Liam perfectly, because he gave a booming bark of laughter and relaxed back in his seat.
“Ernie Prang—he was the chief back then—didn’t take too kindly to trapping in Miller Lake,” Roger said slyly.
“I know,” Liam said. “He always said it was unsportsmanlike.”
“How do you stand on the matter?” Roger asked, his pale eyes sparkling with
She was so caught off balance by his compliment that she again didn’t utter the protest on her tongue when he started walking toward the door. Natalie couldn’t decide what was making her more nervous, the prospect of entering the jam-packed bar or the feeling of Liam’s large, warm hand enclosing her own. She began to think it was the latter, because Liam’s hold was all she really focused on when they entered the dim interior of Jake’s. Thank goodness, or else her anxiety about being in such a public place might have morphed into panic.
The band was in full swing, the singer belting out the refrain from a popular country-rock ballad. Faces swam before her eyes. She was vaguely aware of men and women alike calling out friendly greetings to Liam. An attractive blonde wearing a ruby satin top beneath a tight jean jacket wrapped her hand around his upper arm. To his credit, Liam didn’t pause as he moved through the crowd, and his greeting toward the blonde was friendly, but neutral.
Natalie glanced behind her as they passed and saw the woman staring after Liam with a mixture of longing and irritation at his passing. She thought she knew who the woman was—Betsy Darnel. She’d been in the year behind Eric in school. Betsy’s gaze sharpened on her, as though she’d just noticed Natalie cowering behind Liam’s back.
Roger had already located a booth, apparently only empty because it was too distant to see or hear the band clearly. She slid into the booth, placing her briefcase between herself and the wall. Her breath caught when Liam slid onto the seat next to her and she felt his hip and thigh press against her own. His clean, spicy scent filtered into her nose. She inched toward the wall, trying not to seem too obvious. Liam gave her a sidelong, too-knowing glance and she froze. Their sideswere no longer pressed together, but his hard, jeans-covered thigh still ghosted against her leg.
A waitress came and Liam and Roger exchanged some pleasantries until she returned with their drink orders. After the waitress walked away, Liam got down to business.
“I understand from Joe that you were on Silver Dunes Beach on the night of the crash and saw my father,” Liam began.
At first, Natalie had been puzzled about Liam’s earlier reference to Joe Brown. Natalie knew the gruff old man—he was a Harbor Town old-timer and handyman. He did everything from yard work to simple house repairs to carpentry and painting. Upon reflection, however, she realized it made good sense to use Joe as a reference. Old Joe, as some of the residents fondly referred to him, was an insider to Harbor Town’s history, people and secrets. Joe saw and heard a lot of things in his daily meanderings.
“That’s right,” Roger agreed. “I wasn’t a full-time resident of Harbor Town at the time. I’d come down with some buddies for some R and R and some fishing in Miller Lake,” he said.
“You were staying in one of those vacation cottages near Silver Dune Beach?” Liam clarified.
Roger nodded his gray head and took a swig of his beer. “There’s a path that leads from the cottages to the beach, but you can take another branch off the path toward Miller Lake. I’d left the cottage around sunset and gone down to the lake…” Roger paused and cast an uncertain glance at Liam from beneath shaggy eyebrows.
“I’m not the police chief yet,” Liam said mildly. Unlike Natalie, Roger seemed to understand Liam perfectly, because he gave a booming bark of laughter and relaxed back in his seat.
“Ernie Prang—he was the chief back then—didn’t take too kindly to trapping in Miller Lake,” Roger said slyly.
“I know,” Liam said. “He always said it was unsportsmanlike.”
“How do you stand on the matter?” Roger asked, his pale eyes sparkling with
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