Anger began to simmer low in his belly. “It's not her fault that someone shot out her windows."

"It's because of who she is and her family's history in this town,” Patrick retorted. “Most folks couldn't stand the sight of Cyrus James. Lord knows he was a tight-fisted tyrant, only worried about making a buck."

Shamus straightened, all pretense of calm gone beneath the onslaught of his anger. “Let me get this straight. If this is her fault because of who she is, then if someone was to shoot out your windows, it would be your fault because you're the local sheriff."

"Now you're just being obtuse."

"No, brother. You're just being prejudiced. So much for your apology.” Shamus was angry with his brother, but more, he was disappointed. He'd thought his brother more fair-minded than that, but he seemed to have a block where Cyndi was concerned. And while he could understand it, it didn't make it any easier to deal with.

Patrick's hand dropped onto Shamus’ shoulder. “Look. I don't want to fight with you. I'm just worried about you."

"I'm not the one who needs your concern."

"Damn it, Shamus.” He dropped his hand and began to pace. “The department has investigated, but there are no solid leads. We have the bullets and some more physical evidence, but unless we can find someone to link them too, they're useless. The woman has too many possible enemies in this town."

"I know you've done what you can.” That much Shamus did trust. His brother was a good cop and, no matter his personal feelings, he would do everything in his power to solve this crime.

Patrick halted and rubbed the back of his neck. “All I'm saying is be careful.” Shamus could see the concern in his brother's eyes. “I'm worried and so is Dani."

"I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

Patrick nodded, but Shamus could see the muscles in his jaw clenching as if he were keeping himself from saying anything more. Finally, his brother heaved a sigh. “Shannon wanted me to ask you to come to supper."

Shamus felt his stomach grumble. He'd barely eaten any lunch. “Tell her thanks, but I've already got plans."

Patrick's lips thinned into a scowl, but he said nothing for a long moment. “I'm not going to ask, because then I can honestly tell her and Dani that I don't know what you're doing."

"Dani?"

"Yeah, she, Burke and Shane are coming over."

"There is another alternative you know.” It was obvious, but Shamus knew his brother wouldn't go for it.

He held up his hand, shaking his head. “You know what kind of atmosphere her presence would create, Shamus. It's asking too much."

A vein in his temple began to throb as Shamus stared at his brother. “Fine.” He deliberately turned his back and resumed the task of packing away his tools.

He could hear his brother swearing under his breath, but ignored him. “Breakfast. Meet me for breakfast at Jessie's tomorrow morning. We'll talk more then."

Knowing his brother was trying, Shamus met him halfway. “Okay.” He closed his toolbox and hefted it off the floor. “How about seven?"

"Seven works for me.” He hesitated. “I'm sorry, man."

"Yeah.” The tension in his neck and shoulders was giving him a headache. All Shamus wanted to do was go home, have a nice, hot shower and then head over to Cyndi's place. “Me too.” Time, he told himself. His family just needed time to put the past in perspective, and get used to the idea of him and Cyndi together.

In silence, the two men left the building. Shamus paused to lock the place behind him before storing his gear in his truck. Patrick climbed into his official vehicle and pulled away, waving and tooting his horn as he did. Suddenly very tired, Shamus climbed aboard his truck and drove home to shower and change.

Cyndi was nervous and excited as she checked the oven one more time. Not knowing exactly when Shamus would arrive, she'd baked some chicken breasts that she'd found in the freezer. She'd tossed some potatoes in the oven and opened cans of carrots and corn. Everything was ready. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was six o'clock.

With nothing else to do but wait, she wandered into the library. Like every other room in the place, it was dark and oppressive, but that would change. She could envision this being a cozy reading room, the shelves filled with paperback novels that folks might like to curl up with on a rainy day. She could also carry books on the area—flora, fauna, and history. People staying at a B & B always liked that sort of thing.

Walking over to the shelf, she plucked a thick, leather volume off and opened it. It was a collection of Washington Irving's short stories. She'd bet good money that it was an original copy. Closing the cover, she stuck it back into its space on the shelf. The staff had been instructed to keep the drapes pulled tight so the sunlight couldn't harm the bindings.

Cyndi had nothing against the books, but she hated what they represented. She'd been forbidden to touch any of them growing up. They, like everything else in the house, including her, had been strictly for show.

Luckily for her, the auction house she'd contacted had given her the name of a reputable, rare-book dealer who was so excited she was coming the day after tomorrow. Amanda Barrington couldn't wait to get her hands on the library. Cyndi smiled as she recalled her conversation with the woman earlier today. Her enthusiasm had been contagious.

The representative from the auction house, Linda Fletcher, was coming the same day. Cyndi had to stop and think for a moment. That would be Saturday. Today was Thursday. It was so easy for the days to slip by now that she was no longer working and bound to the clock and the calendar. Still, she had work to do. She'd have to clean two rooms, as both women would be staying overnight.

She also had a heck of a lot of work to do tomorrow. She really needed to get up in the attic and see what was there before she made her final decision on furniture. She'd also been considering getting rid of most of the formal china and crystal. There was nothing wrong with it, per se, but again, it was the memories attached to it that she needed to purge from the house if she was going to live here.

The roar of a truck pulling up outside the house had her heart leaping.

Shamus.

Hurrying from the room, she left her dark thoughts behind her, her earlier enthusiasm returning. She had so many thoughts and plans and wanted to share them with him.

Pulling open the front door, she watched him climbed out of his truck. Just the sight of him made something inside her relax, as if everything was how it should be now that he'd arrived. She grabbed the edge of the doorframe to keep from running out to meet him. She bit her bottom lip, realizing she felt like a wife meeting her husband at the end of a long day.

Stop that, she admonished herself. They were friends, nothing more. Okay, so maybe there was a bit more too it, but it wasn't serious. They were adults on the verge of having an affair. And she'd better stop thinking now. Each thought was more ridiculous than the last.

Her cheeks heated as the memory of what happened at lunch flitted through her mind. She took a deep breath and slowly released it. She was almost forty years old, a mature woman who'd been married, for heaven's sake. She could handle this.

Shamus reached back inside his truck and pulled something out before shutting the door. As he got closer, he tucked the bag under one arm and reached for her with the other. Leaning down, he kissed her, looping one arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He smelled of sandalwood soap and clean male, with a tinge of leather from the jacket he wore. Cyndi inhaled deeply, letting his scent seep into her.

When he pulled away, he smiled down at her. “I needed that."

Cyndi noticed immediately that he looked tired and the smile was missing from his eyes. “What's wrong?” she asked, ushering him into the house. Closing the door, she shut the world outside.

"Nothing.” He laid the bag on the table just inside the foyer and shucked his leather jacket, hanging it on the coat rack.

She could tell that something was bothering him, but maybe it was none of her business. She ignored the pang in the vicinity of her heart and tried to put on a cheerful face. They were adults on the verge of an affair, not a real couple or anything. “I hope you like chicken because that's what I made for supper.” She turned to head toward the kitchen, needing a moment to compose herself. “I better check on the vegetables."

Shamus's large hand fell onto her shoulder, stopping her. Slowly, he tugged her into his arms, wrapping them around her from behind. “I didn't mean to shut you out.” She felt his lips against her hair. “It's just been a bitch of an afternoon."

She covered his hands were they rested on her stomach. “It's okay. I understand.” She paused. “But if you need to talk..."

"Thanks. Maybe later."

Cyndi knew she'd have to be satisfied with that. For now. “Come and eat. You didn't get much lunch."

"I had plenty for lunch,” he growled playfully in her ear before releasing her, grabbing the bag and following her to the kitchen.

She went to work immediately, pulling on the oven mitts, and removing the chicken from the oven. Shamus opened the bag and withdrew a container. “I brought dessert.” He held it out to her like an offering.

Laying the hot dish aside, she tugged off the oven mitts and took the box. The label was from the Jamesville bakery, Delicious Delights. Intrigued, she peeled off the lid, almost moaning when she saw what was inside. “Cheesecake."