He gave up the attempt to restrain his mirth. “I’m kidding, Grace. I do have some taste. I’m saving this room until last, because if I ever share this house with a wife, I expect she’ll want input into the kitchen décor. But I can visualize an island, granite countertops, stainless steel appliances. And that bay window you mentioned is a great idea.”

She exhaled. “Can I say I’m relieved—and apologize for underestimating your decorating panache?”

“Apology accepted if you tell me what’s on that plate. I scarfed down a fast-food burger for dinner, but I’m still hungry.”

“This may not fill the gap in your stomach. It’s more for your sweet tooth.”

He bit back the flirty remark hovering on the tip of his tongue. Getting too pushy too fast with this woman could backfire.

“Dessert is always welcome. You can put it there.” He indicated a spot on the counter, beside the coffeepot.

She set the plate on the chipped Formica and removed the aluminum foil.

“Is that baklava?” He leaned closer to peruse it.

“Yes. My specialty.”

“You made this?” His mouth began to water as he gaped at the golden triangles oozing richness.

“From an old family recipe. In general it’s reserved for special occasions, but after you listened to my story Saturday night, and held my hand—literally and figuratively—I wanted to thank you in a concrete way.”

“I was just doing my job.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “You hold the hand of every woman at crime scenes you visit?”

Touché.

“Not as a rule. I made an exception for you.” Without waiting for her to respond or ask questions, he waved a hand toward the plate. “Is that as complicated to make as it looks?”

“More time consuming than complicated.”

He propped his hands on his hips. “As far as I can tell, you don’t have a spare minute to call your own. How did you manage to work this in?”

“I carve out time for priorities.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be.” She offered him a cheeky grin, then grew more serious. “I also have news.”

“Me too. Want to exchange information over dessert and coffee?”

“I brought the baklava for you.”

“I don’t like to eat alone. Have a piece with me. Please.”

Her lips flexed. “You’re very persuasive, Sheriff Cox.”

“Hold that thought. Let me put the coffee on. If you want to dish each of us up a piece or two, there are plates in the cabinet next to the sink.”

She crossed the room and pulled them out. “Forks?”

“In the drawer on your right.” He filled the filter with coffee. “I have to ask a question.”

“Fire away.”

“Why is a Greek pastry made from an old family recipe the specialty of someone with a name like Reilly?”

Grace set two pieces of dessert on one plate and a single piece on the other. “My mom was born in Athens.”

“Ah. That would explain it.”

“My sister Eve makes fabulous moussaka.”