in Claire’s office.
“What’s good?” he asked Pet while studying the menu.
“Oh, honey, nothing bad comes out of our kitchen.” She smirked. “On the other hand, there’s nothing to write home about either. So I’d suggest you close your eyes and point your finger. It’ll land on something edible.”
He emitted a little sound that could almost be mistaken for a chuckle, and looked up.
Claire blinked, tried to look away, but it was too late. She was caught in a deep gray gaze that refused to let go.
And then Hogan actually relaxed, propping his elbow on the back of the chair. “I see the mayor eats here,” he said. “That’s a good recommendation. What’s she having?”
“You know my niece?” Pet said innocently and with as much enthusiasm as if the revelation were deserving of a headline in the Heron Point Tattler.
Hogan stared at both women as if trying to reconcile them to the same gene pool. “We met this morning.”
Pet peered at Claire from under a raised eyebrow but spoke to Hogan. “Don’t order lunch based on my niece’s preferences. She’s a grazer. Show him what you’re having, Claire.”
Claire smiled stiffly. “I’m sure Mr. Hogan has seen lettuce before, Aunt Pet.”
“I have, but rarely on my plate.” He turned his attention back to Pet. “I’ll just have the fried grouper sandwich, fries, and an iced coffee.”
“Good choice. I’ll hold the lettuce.” She took the menu and headed for the kitchen.
And Jack Hogan continued to give Claire an uncomfortably personal appraisal. She took another bite of salad and chewed, but suddenly her jaw muscles felt tight. She washed down the lettuce with a swallow of raspberry iced tea. “Is there something you want?” she said when Hogan still hadn’t looked away. “You’re sitting by a window with an incredible view of the Gulf of Mexico. Surely you can find something more appealing to look at than my unappetizing lunch.”
Obviously appeasing her, he passed a quick glance out the window and then leaned forward and focused on her again. “Actually I was kind of hoping you’d ask me to join you. Other than those two ladies over at the realty office, you’re my only friend in town.”
If she’d had a mouthful of food, Claire was certain she would have choked on it. “You think we’re friends?” she said. “I probably should make myself clear. Our friendship, if in fact there is one, is directly affected by how many of my neighbors you’ve bothered already today.”
Hogan stood up, came around the table and sat opposite her. “Good, because you were the one and only person I bothered this morning. But we still have a lot of daylight, so who knows? I can squeeze in a fair amount of antagonizing before the end of the day.”
Claire didn’t doubt it. He was bothering her in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time. She resisted the urge to squirm in her seat.
Pet appeared with a tall mug of cool coffee and set it in front of Hogan. “Oh, good,” she said. “You two are talking. I know I hate to eat alone.”
Claire seized the opportunity to ask for her check.
“Sure thing, hon,” Pet said. “As soon as I get a minute.”
There were a total of eight people in the restaurant, all of them served but Hogan. How swamped could she be?
Pet stabbed her pencil into a wave of coarse white hair at her temple. “Do you still want me to monitor the crosswalk at school this afternoon?”
“If you don’t mind,” Claire said. “And Jane will be riding home with you if that’s okay.”
“Of course.” And then, as if an explanation were necessary, which it wasn’t, she spoke to Hogan. “Jane is Claire’s daughter. Adorable child. Smart, clever.” She pointed her finger between herself and Claire. “She keeps the two of us on our toes.”
Hogan nodded as he stirred a packet of sugar into his coffee. About as much of a reaction as anyone could expect in Claire’s opinion, considering he didn’t know Jane and couldn’t care less.
“My check, Pet,” Claire said, pointing to the small stack of orders banded to the back of her aunt’s restaurant pad. “I can see it right there.”
Pet snapped the paper out of the rubber band. “Oh, right. You have to go so soon?”
“My shop doesn’t run itself.” Claire took the check and stood up. “Have a nice lunch, Mr. Hogan.” She gave him her best mayoral smile, the one she used to calm downtown shopkeepers when the teenagers were a little rambunctious on a Friday night. “Try kicking back a bit. It’s what we do best in Heron Point.”
“Maybe I’ll give it a shot,” he said.
Claire didn’t believe him. Other than loosening his tie, she didn’t think he knew how.
JACK FINISHED HIS SANDWICH and left the Green Door Café. Folks in shorts and T-shirts ambled by him on the sidewalk. Some had video cameras tucked into the palms of their hands. Jack supposed there was enough scenic shoreline on this remote speck of west Florida coast to merit a vacation video, though he’d never been inclined to preserve his travels in that way. Despite having seen much of the world, he’d rarely traveled for the fun of it. And he wasn’t in Heron Point for enjoyment either, although that interlude with the mayor just now still had him smiling. He had a job to do, and to Jack Hogan, every assignment was important.
The day had turned warm and unpleasantly muggy. He took off his jacket, hooked it over his shoulder with one finger and pulled his cell phone from the pocket. He punched in the first number on his saved list.
The Upper West Side Manhattan voice that answered was crisp and confident as always. “Anderson Enterprises. How may I direct your call?”
“Hello, Sophie,” he said.
“Jack! How are you? More to the point, where are you?”
He scanned the weathered exteriors of boutiques and souvenir shops, noting the nautical and marine paraphernalia that decorated the walls. Everything on this beachfront road was made to look like it had been standing for decades, though from his studies, Jack knew that, unlike the historic downtown section, this stretch of restaurants and shops had been built in the last ten years. “This week I’m in Heron Point,” he replied.
“That’s a new one to me,” Sophie said. “Where is it?”
“Florida.” He recalled the two-hour drive north from the Tampa airport he’d made early this morning. He’d ended up on a thirty-mile stretch of narrow road that led past ancient burial mounds and limestone formations to a two-lane bridge at the head of the island. “It’s not near anything you’ve ever heard of unless you’re schooled in multi-syllable Native American names of towns and rivers.”
“No, sorry. Now if you want to talk the names of shops on South Beach or Worth Avenue…”
Jack chuckled. “You and I are on different wavelengths as usual, Sophie. I think I actually prefer this place.” He heard the subtle background tones
