Kim laughed. “In preparation for her interview, I think I found a clue that might help you. I didn’t mention this to Michelle Hixson. Meet you at the diner in five?”

“Sure.” He wasn’t sure if he was going to regret this or not. Right after he and Marla had separated, he’d made the mistake of sleeping with Kim Landau one time. It had been nothing short of a disaster. Recently, she’d sent him signs that she was interested in being more than a onetime fling. At the gala last week, she’d cornered him at the bar and pressed him about him spending time with Lara. He’d been trying to steer their relationship back to the professional, but he groaned every time he saw her phone number pop up on his mobile.

He walked the two blocks to the diner to find Kim scanning the lunch menu in a prime booth near the window. An institution since 1941, the historic Kerrigan Falls Diner was known for its red velvet cake and wide array of pancakes, which it served all day. One of Ben’s great pleasures in life was eating buttermilk pancakes at eight in the evening. While the food wasn’t always great, the location across from City Hall ensured it was always bustling.

“Don’t get the croque monsieur.” He slid into the booth.

“That’s exactly what I was going to get.” She looked up, perplexed. Kim Landau was a beautiful woman with dark-auburn hair, blue eyes, and an upturned nose. She reminded him of Ginger from Gilligan’s Island. There was an intensity about her, though, that had always unsettled him. The day after they’d slept together, she’d called him six times. He’d felt trapped, pursued, and as a man who was just getting out of one relationship he wasn’t in a hurry to tie himself down to another—at least not then.

He turned the menu toward her and pointed. “Stay away from the tuna, too.”

“What are you getting, then?” She folded her arms in front of her.

“Cobb salad, maybe the onion soup if it’s good today.”

She glanced down at the menu. “Grilled chicken sandwich?”

He shrugged. “It’s okay, not great. So, what was so urgent?” He didn’t mean to sound harsh, but he also didn’t want to lead her on. Getting to the point was the best strategy.

She gave him a sly smile. “I hear Lara is in Paris with Gaston Boucher.”

He put his arm up on the booth. “Yes, they went to see someone at the Sorbonne about a painting that’s been in her family for years.”

She raised her eyebrow and gave him a pitying glance. “Is that what she told you?”