“That’s a dog? Jeez, I’m sorry. I thought it was an industrial-waste accident.” His long, lean fingers slid through the cat’s fur.

“Slytherin.” She slapped the lid back onto the flour container. What kind of man liked a cat more than he liked an exceptionally fine French poodle?

“What did you call me?”

“It’s a literary reference. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Harry Potter. And I don’t appreciate name calling.”

His reply irritated her. It was getting harder and harder to convince herself he was just a pretty face.

The Pearsons were their first customers. John Pearson consumed half a dozen pancakes and a serving of scrambled eggs while he updated Kevin on the couple’s so-far-fruitless search for Kirtland’s warbler. Chet and Gwen were leaving that day, and when Molly peered into the dining room, she saw Gwen casting come-hither glances at Kevin. A little later she heard a commotion from the front of the house. She turned off the heat and rushed into the foyer, where the forbidding man she’d seen on the Common the day she’d arrived was growling at Kevin.

“She’s a redhead. Tall—five feet nine. And beautiful. Somebody said they saw her here yesterday afternoon.”

“What do you want with her?” Kevin asked.

“We had an appointment.”

“What kind of an appointment?”

“Is she here or not?”

“I thought I recognized that snarl.” Lilly appeared at the top of the stairs. Somehow she managed to make her simple periwinkle linen camp shirt and matching walking shorts look glamorous. She began to descend, every inch the queen of the screen, then stalled awkwardly as she spotted Kevin. “Good morning.”

He gave her a brusque nod and disappeared into the dining room.

Lilly retained her composure. The man who’d come to see her stared toward the dining room, and Molly realized he was the one she’d passed coming out of the woods her first day here. How did Lilly know him?

“It’s eight-thirty,” he grumbled. “We were supposed to meet at seven.”

“I mulled it over for a few seconds and decided I’d rather sleep in.”

He glared at her like a surly lion. “Let’s get going. I’m losing the light.”

“If you search hard enough, I’m sure you’ll be able to find it. In the meantime I’m eating breakfast.”

His brow furrowed.

Lilly turned to Molly, her expression frosty. “Would it be possible for me to eat in the kitchen instead of the dining room?”

Molly told herself to rise above Lilly’s hostility, then decided the heck with it. Two could play this game. “Of course. Maybe you’d both like to eat there. I’ve made blueberry pancakes.”

Lilly looked miffed.

“Do you have coffee?” he barked.