Oh, that deep voice was dangerous. Caught up in the sound of it, she almost said, No, it’s Gretchen. “Ah, yes. I’m sorry to bother you, but—”

“No, I’m glad you called. Is there anything wrong?”

She frowned and hit her directional signal. “Well, no. I just wanted you to know—”

“Where are you? Still at the club?”

“I just left.”

“You have breakfast yet?”

“No.” Oh, God.

“You know the Riverside Diner?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you there in five minutes.”

She glanced at the clock on the dash. The babysitter was supposed to be at the house until noon, so there was plenty of time, but she had to wonder what kind of door she was opening. A big part of her wanted to run from Vin because he was too handsome and too much her type and she was an idiot if she didn’t learn from the past.

But then she reminded herself she could bolt. At the drop of a hat. Hell, she was on the verge of pulling out of Caldwell completely anyway.

He’s coming for you….

Remembering the words he’d spoken to her gave her the impetus to meet with him. Attraction concerns aside, she wanted to know what he’d seen and why he’d said those things.

“Okay, I’ll see you there.” She ended the call, flicked her directional signal to the other side, and headed for one of Caldwell’s landmarks.

The Riverside Diner was just two miles away and so close to the Hudson’s shoreline, the only way it could get any nearer was if the booths were anchored by buoys and floating in the current. The dining car had been rolled onto its blocks in the 1950s, before the EPA laws, and still had original everything, from the Naugahyde twirling stools at the Formica counter, to the jukebox extensions at each table, to the soda fountain from which the waitresses still pulled Cokes for customers.

She’d been there once or twice before with Robbie. He liked the pie.

When she walked in, she saw Vin diPietro right away. He was sitting in the last booth over on the left, and facing the door. As their eyes met, he got to his feet.

Even with the shiner, the bruise on his cheek, and the swelling on his lower lip, he was stunningly sexy.

Boy…as she walked over, she wished she had a thing for accountants, podiatrists, or chess players. Maybe even florists.

“Hi,” she said as she sat down.

On the table’s countertop, there were a pair of menus, two sets of stainless-steel silverware on paper napkins, and a pair of thick ceramic mugs.

It was all so down to earth, homey, cute. And in his black cashmere sweater and his toffee suede jacket, Vin looked like he should have been at a fancy café, instead.