Dulcie shrugged. “I ran into her the other day in Whitehorse. I was just curious who she was.”

He cut his eyes to her, knowing there was more to it.

She gave him an innocent look. “What else could it be?”

His question exactly. Dulcie looked out the side window as they drove to the motel, clearly not going to tell him what her real interest was in Jolene Stevens.

“You never told me what you do,” he said as he pulled up in front of her motel room.

“Do?”

“For work. You do work, don’t you?”

“Why? You think I have so much money I don’t have to work?”

“I’ve heard tell of such a thing.” He hadn’t had to work for financial reasons his entire life, thanks to the Corbett wealth, but he thought everyone needed a job, a goal, something to do.

“I owned a business with a friend. We just sold it. I’m looking around for something else to keep me out of trouble.”

“No small order that,” he said as he got out to open her door. “I enjoyed dinner, especially watching you eat that steak. You are a woman after my own heart,” he said as she stepped out into the starlight.

“Oh?” She cocked her head, grinning at him.

“You aren’t flirting with me, are you?”

Her soft laugh was all music. “Would that be so bad?”

No, he thought, unless he was foolish enough to lose his heart to this city girl. But there was no chance of that. Especially if he didn’t make the mistake of kissing her under the starlight.

Damn, but she was asking for it though.

Tinker grew quiet as he walked Jolene to her car. She hadn’t been able to get a word in edgewise all during dinner. Tinker did love to talk about himself.

But with the night winding down, she thought this might be the perfect time to ask if he remembered the murder. “So you’ve lived here in Whitehorse your whole life.”

“I don’t like to think about it,” Tinker joked as he leaned against her car and grinned at her. “I just come home now to see you.”

“You don’t have family here?” she asked, surprised.

“My mom,” he said. “She remarried when I was little. My stepfather and I don’t get along. But she loves the bastard so...” He straightened, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

“Do you remember a murder twenty-four years ago outside of Old Town Whitehorse?” she blurted out.

Tinker looked surprised, then annoyed. “Why ask me?”

She wished she hadn’t. For some reason the question had ruined Tinker’s good mood. “It’s nothing. Just something I was curious about.”

He was shaking his head, clearly angry. “That’s a damned odd thing to be curious about.”