“There you are!” Eyes damp and brilliant, Gladys rushed in. “I was afraid you’d slipped out.”

“No, indeed. I need to finish up here, then do a run-through of the house to make sure I have everything back in order.”

“You certainly do not. You’ve done enough, more than I expected. I never had such a party, not in my whole life. Why, people will be talking about it for years.”

She took Nell’s shoulders, kissed both her cheeks. “I was a pest, and I know it.” Then she hugged Nell breathless. “Oh, this was such a treat, and I’m not waiting three decades to do it again. Now, I want you to go home and get off your feet.”

She pressed a crisp hundred-dollar bill into Nell’s hand. “This is for you.”

“Mrs. Macey, you’re not supposed to tip me. Peg and—”

“I’ve taken care of them. You’re going to hurt my feelings if you don’t take this and go buy yourself something pretty. Now I want you to scat. Anything else needs to be done, it’ll wait until tomorrow. Sheriff, you help our Nell out to her car with her trays.”

“I’ll do that.”

“This was better than my wedding,” Gladys said as she started to the door. She turned back briefly, winked. “Now let’s see if we can improve on my wedding night.”

“Looks like Carl’s in for a surprise.” Zack hefted a stack of trays. “We’d better move along, give the young couple some privacy.”

“I’m right behind you.”

It took three trips between them, with Carl pushing a bottle of champagne into Nell’s hands as he nudged them along.

“Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?” Zack chuckled as he loaded Nell’s trunk.

“Where’s your car?”

“Hmm? Oh, Ripley used it to take the last couple of semi-impaired guests home. Most people walked, which helped out.”

Nell let herself look at him. He was wearing a suit, but had already rid himself of the tie. She could see the faint bulge where he’d stuffed it in his pocket.

He’d opened his collar, so she could see the clean, tanned line of his throat.

There was a faint smile on his lips as he watched the lights in the Macey house wink out, one at a time. His profile wasn’t perfect. His hair hadn’t been styled. And the way he stood, his thumbs tucked in the front pockets of his suit pants, was relaxed rather than posed.

When the shimmer of desire came, she didn’t try to close it off. Instead she took a step forward.

“I’ve only had half a glass of champagne. I’m unimpaired, thinking clearly, and my reflexes are perfect.”

He turned his head toward her. “As sheriff, I’m glad to know it.”