He was a liability she could not afford. Self-preservation demanded that she resist the lure of good looks and good humor. She couldn’t risk an attraction to a man who’d been able to see through her painstakingly fostered image of the distant, fashion-challenged professor.

Though her skin heated at the memory of him calling her beautiful, she couldn’t ignore the rest. Anyone who paid too much attention was a hazard, especially if her heartbeat scrambled when she was near him.

Her precarious situation posed enough danger without upping the ante by inviting the enemy to find her. Gabriel Moss was a reporter, the last person a woman with secrets should know.

“Ms. Abbott? I’m Delilah Weems, Mr. Singleton’s secretary.” An older woman with clothes as dark as Amber’s were bright motioned Erin to follow. They wound through the bank to a suite of glassed-in offices. Ms. Weems ushered her into one and firmly shut the door. “You’re here to see Mr. Singleton?”

“Yes. I’m in New Orleans for a conference.” Erin smiled reassuringly. “I didn’t have an appointment, but Burleigh always told me to just stop by when I was in town.”

“Are you from San Cabes?”

“California?” Erin felt her blood run cold. “Wh-why? Why do you ask?”

“Amber indicated that you were an old friend. I assumed you were from his hometown.” Ms. Weems gave her a narrow, suspicious look. She noted Erin was half Mr. Singleton’s age and dressed entirely too casually for the office. “Exactly how did you know him?”

Erin was prepared for the question. “Business school. The alumni association. Burleigh was great to younger alums. He got me my first job in New York. Told me if I was ever in New Orleans, I should look him up.” Then she frowned and bent toward the dubious Ms. Weems. “You used the past tense. You asked me, ‘How did you know him?’ Has something happened to Burleigh?”

Tears pooled in Ms. Weems’s eyes, and she choked out a sob. “Mr. Singleton died not long ago. He was murdered.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said sincerely. Erin shifted to pat awkwardly at the woman’s sleeve. “What happened?”

Ms. Weems hiccupped. “The police said he was attacked behind the bank. They think it must have been a mugging.”

Comforting the woman, Erin gently probed for information. “Had you worked for him long?”

“Nearly fifteen years. He was such a kind soul. And an excellent boss. Punctual. Polite. Never a cross word.” Ms. Weems covered Erin’s hand with her own. “I miss him so.”

Erin stayed in the office for another twenty minutes, listening to Ms. Weems recount stories of her time with Mr. Singleton. According to her, he’d been a generous man who hadn’t an enemy in the world.

Except a mugger no one could find.