I could have prodded more personal information from him, maybe asked if he’d known Evelyn at the time and what she’d thought of that. Innocent questions that I suspected he’d answer. But that seemed manipulative, tricking him into revealing more.

Was I interested in knowing more? Sure. Jack played a significant role in my life, yet I knew next to nothing about the man. Curiosity was a given.

When Evelyn had tempted me with details on Jack, goading me about being interested, I’m sure this casual curiosity wasn’t what she’d meant. Was I interested in Jack? Physically attracted to him? Maybe to Evelyn the question should have an easy answer. He was a man, not unattractive, and available, at least in the sense that he was right there, with no immediate competition in sight. Maybe, to her, it was as simple as “yes, I’m interested” or “sorry, not my type.”

Jack wasn’t my type. Far from it. But when I looked at him, across the table, even asking myself “am I interested?” threw up a mess of incomplete and conflicting emotions…and an overriding sense that any time I spent untangling my feelings for him would be wasted, because he was clearly not interested in me.

I’d worked with enough men to sense, almost immediately, whether I was in danger of being cornered in a dark alley on patrol or followed to my car postshift with a shy “You doing anything tonight?” With Jack, that radar didn’t even turn on.

When the server asked whether we wanted to see the dessert menu, Jack didn’t consult me, just said yes, two please.

“What’re you getting?” he asked after I’d surveyed mine for a minute.

“I don’t think I could finish anything…”

“So don’t finish. That’s the point of dessert. You don’t need it.”

I smiled. “Are you getting something?”

“’Course. Eat like this? Gotta have dessert. Rich people do.”

My smile grew, and I ordered an apple-caramel something-or-other and a coffee.

When it arrived, he asked, “So, the money. What’re your plans? Something for the lodge?”

It took a moment to realize he meant the payment for this “job.” “We need to catch him first.”

“We will. Got plans?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” I said as I cut into my dessert. “The Moretti job will pay for the roof and prewinter repairs. I think I’ll use this for extras.”

“That deck by the lake? You mentioned that this summer.”