like to change and wash the dirt off my face.” She crouched down, gathered her gloves with the small gardening tools and plopped them into her basket.
Neil picked up a hoe and a rake lying beside the garden.
“You don’t have to—” she began.
“Someone could trip over them.” Now he was smiling at her.
She couldn’t help but smile back. “You can just leave them on the porch.”
“I can wait there.”
“That’s silly. No, come on in. My dad’s watching TV. He might ignore you, but at least you can find a comfortable chair.” She started up the stairs and he kept pace with her. As he propped the tools against the wall, she said, “Mr. Kane, about my dad—”
“Do you mind if we drop the formality? My name’s Neil. We might feel less confrontational if we can at least call each other by our first names.”
“Isobel’s fine.”
Their gazes caught…met…held. Until finally he asked, “What about your dad?”
Whenever she looked into Neil’s eyes, she lost every coherent thought in her head. She made the effort to concentrate. “If he seems to ignore you or is grumpy, it’s just him, not you. Please don’t feel offended. He had surgery on his shoulder two weeks ago and he’s not happy about it. He’s limited as to what he can and can’t do, and that frustrates him.”
“It would frustrate anyone.”
Neil seemed to understand and that was a relief.
As they crossed the foyer and went to the living room, her father didn’t say a word, just kept his eyes glued to the TV where a biography of Dwight D. Eisenhower played.
“Dad, I want you to meet—”
“Not now. Shhhh.”
She felt her cheeks flush and was about to apologize to Neil when he said, “My father told me he visited the Eisenhower farm when he was a boy.”
Isobel’s father swung his gaze to Neil. “No kidding. How’d that happen?”
“My grandparents apparently knew a friend of the family.”
“You’re from Pennsylvania?”
“No. I was born and raised in Massachusetts, but we took a couple of vacations there when I was a kid. I was interested in history so the Gettysburg Battlefield fascinated me. I enjoyed it almost as much as Hershey Park.”
To Isobel’s surprise, her father laughed, and then his gaze went to her, expecting introductions.
“Dad, this is Neil Kane. He’s…he’s…”
“An investigator for the state Attorney General’s Office,” Neil filled in.
“So you’re the one who’s been snooping around the hospital.”
Instead of taking offense, Neil smiled. “Investigators always get a bad rap when they try to find the answers, don’t they?”
Her father just grinned and pointed to the sofa, which sat at a right angle to his recliner. “Sit down and tell me about those trips to Pennsylvania. My parents moved up and down the East Coast. My dad had trouble finding work until they settled here.”
Isobel was absolutely amazed her father had started talking to Neil like this. But then maybe he sensed another history buff.
Who would have thought?
As she ran up the stairs, she mentally pictured everything in her closet, trying to decide what to wear. Then she chastised herself. What she wore simply didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to try to impress a man who would be here today and gone tomorrow. She wasn’t going to try to impress a man who thought she or other personnel at the hospital had committed some kind of crime.
No matter how easygoing Neil seemed today, or how gentlemanly, she had to be on her guard. Her future as well as the hospital’s depended on it.
Chapter Two
“I never expected you to bring me here. Only the locals know about this place.” Isobel’s eyes were the deep, dark brown of rich espresso. Her smile was even a bit friendly.
As Neil sat with Isobel in his car parked on the gravel lot of The Crab Shack, his gut tightened. How long had it been since a woman gave him an adrenaline rush? How long had it been since he’d actually felt happy to be somewhere with someone?
Happiness had been a commodity he couldn’t quite get a grip on ever since he’d lost his brother. Guilt had been a factor in that, a guilt he’d never been without.
But today, just looking at Isobel in her bright yellow T-shirt, her pin-striped yellow-and-blue slacks, he felt…good, damn good. And he shouldn’t. He’d only stopped by her house and brought her here to get information. He normally didn’t fraternize with witnesses in an investigation. He always pro ceeded by the book.
But stonewalled by most of the staff…
“Not everyone in Walnut River considers me an enemy,” he joked, returning her smile. “I’m staying at the Walnut River Inn. Greta Sanford told me about this place. She said to ignore how it looked on the outside and ignore some of the customers inside and just concentrate on the food.”
“You haven’t tried it yet?”
“I haven’t had the chance to explore.”
He’d arrived a few days ago and since then he’d spent most of his time in that hospital conference room.
“I heard you stayed at the hospital most nights until after nine.”
“Does someone post my whereabouts on a Web site so everyone can check what I’m doing?” He was half kidding, half serious.
She didn’t get defensive but rather looked sympathetic. “Scuttlebutt in small towns travels at the speed of light. Especially if it can impact jobs and careers.”
Neither of them was going to forget for a minute why he was here. If he thought he could make Isobel forget…
Why did he want to make her forget?
So she’d let her guard down.
Isobel unfastened her seat belt, opened her door and climbed out of the car.
The Crab Shack was just that—a shack located along the river about a mile out of town. There were about fifteen cars parked in the lot and a line of patrons extended out the door. The weathered gray wooden building looked as if it might collapse in a good storm.
“There’s always a crowd on the weekends and evenings are even worse,” Isobel explained as they walked toward the restaurant. “There are a couple of tables by the river, though, that are empty. We could just order the food and sit there.”
Neil
