A High-End Finish(35)

“You’re so lucky,” I said, smiling at the glazed look in her eyes.

“I know.” She blinked a few times, then pulled utensils from the drawer. “Come help me set the table.”

Lizzie pushed the swinging door open and we walked into the dining room. I grabbed place mats and napkins from the sideboard. “So, tell me more about our new celebrity resident.”

She patted her chest. “Seriously gorgeous, Shannon. Let me know if you want to meet him.”

“Of course I want to meet . . .” I blinked at her. “No. I’m warning you, Lizzie. You’re not going to set me up on another date again.”

She laughed. “I didn’t mean I would set you up. I just meant, you know, introduce the two of you.”

“But you haven’t even met him.”

“True, but chances are, I’ll meet him before you do.”

She was probably right, but still. “I’ll run into him eventually on my own.”

“Of course you will. But I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to go out with him, just as a friendly gesture. He probably doesn’t know anyone in town.”

“You are incorrigible,” I said, folding another napkin before calling for help. “Hal, I need more wine.”

To my delight, Hal came running through the swinging door with the bottle and filled my glass and Lizzie’s. “Honey, Shannon just had a bad experience and she isn’t ready to date anyone else just yet, so let it go.”

“Are you listening in on our conversation?” she asked.

Hal chuckled. “Of course.”

She sighed and looked at me with some regret. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

“No problem.”

“But whenever you’re ready . . .”

“Stop!” Hal and I said it in unison.

She laughed. “All right, all right. But, dang, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to go out with Mac.”

“Maybe because he dates supermodels and heiresses?”

“Does he?” She frowned. “He doesn’t seem that superficial.”

“He’s a man,” I whispered.

“True.” She gazed lovingly at her husband. “But so is Hal and he’s wonderful.”

I smiled. “Yes, Hal is wonderful. And rare.”

“Thanks, pal.” He winked at me and headed back into the kitchen.

When the door swung closed, Lizzie added, “You know, Police Chief Jensen isn’t bad, either.”

“Oh no.” I smacked my forehead. “You did not just say that.”

“I did.” She smiled brightly. “Just say the word and I’ll work my magic.”

“Your magic?” I laughed. “Besides, I have it on good authority that you already asked him if he’d like to be introduced to anyone and he said no.”

“True, but I haven’t given up hope.” She placed the last utensil on the napkin in front of her. “You have to admit he’s awfully good-looking.”

“Oh, sure. That’s all I could think about when he was looking at me the other night like I might be a stone-cold killer. Nothing better than having a hottie investigating you in a murder case.”

“You did get to know him in kind of a different way,” she mused. “That can often be the beginning of a wonderful relationship.”

I studied her for a moment, not quite believing we’d been close friends most of our lives. “When did you go crazy? I missed it. And by the way, for a married woman you’re awfully fascinated by all these other men.”

“I’m not dead yet.” She set a pair of salt and pepper shakers on the table. “Jane thinks the chief is interested in you.”

I folded another napkin. “Liz, he’s interested in me as a murderer. It’s not a compliment.”

“At least he’s paying attention to you. For some women, that would be enough.”

“Are you listening to yourself?”

She laughed. “Yes, and I’m kidding. I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

“With a man who considers me a flight risk? Oh, be still my heart.”



Within a day, the gossip around town about Jerry’s murder was eclipsed by the latest buzz concerning the mysterious stranger who’d bought the old lighthouse mansion out on the bluff. I already knew who the stranger was and tried not to get too wrapped up in the gossip. I also tried to forget Lizzie’s threat to introduce me to the stranger, the great MacKintyre Sullivan, but the thought wouldn’t leave my head.

Maybe because I’d always had a tiny bit of a crush on the man. Did I say tiny? The author photograph on the back of Sullivan’s books was positively mesmerizing. There, I said it. Mac Sullivan had to be one of the best-looking men I’d ever seen. And that was only the two-dimensional picture of the man. What would I do if I ran into his real, live, three-dimensional self somewhere in town? Faint? Hyperventilate?

“Get a grip,” I muttered. The photograph was probably a fake, anyway. Didn’t they do that all the time on book covers? If readers knew the author was gorgeous, wouldn’t that make for better book sales? Except that Lizzie had already confirmed that the guy was stunningly handsome, so there went that theory.