“Okay, what do you want me to say?”

“How about the truth?” he said with a surprising edge in his voice. “Start to finish.”

The last suggested for the second time in a matter of minutes that he knew something, or thought he did. “Harlan, is there something specific on your mind?”

“I’ve told you what was on my mind. It’s your head that remains a mystery.” He stood. “Why don’t we go grab lunch and see if we can clarify a few things over a cold beer and some of Rosa’s enchiladas?”

“The last time you and I went to Rosa’s, I got the impression people were hanging on our every word and reporting it afterward. Why would you want to go there now?”

He shrugged. “I was hoping the beer would loosen your tongue.”

She stared at him in exasperation. “I’m being as honest here as I can be,” she protested.

“Darlin’, if this is your idea of being candid, I’d trust you to keep my deepest, darkest secrets.” He stepped behind her and pulled back her chair. “Come on. Let’s see if a beer will work any magic or not.”

“I hate beer.”

“Then you’ll drink it down right quick, sort of like medicine,” he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes for the first time since he’d entered her office.

Janet still couldn’t help thinking there were undercurrents here, deep ones, that she might never figure out. Something told her, though, that her future might depend on her trying.

A half dozen heads snapped up when Harlan escorted Janet through the door at Rosa’s. Mule rolled his eyes in disgust.

“You two hooked up together again? Don’t expect me to get involved in another poker game with the likes of you,” the mechanic warned, scowling at Janet.

“Don’t worry,” Harlan informed him. “We’re here for a little private conversation.”

He passed right by his regular table and urged Janet into a booth all the way in the back. It wasn’t quite out of the sight of prying eyes, but it was the best he could come up with under the circumstances.

“That was a little rude, don’t you think?” Janet said when they were seated, a half dozen pairs of eyes staring at them. “Just the kind of thing that will stir up more gossip.”

“Oh, will you stop fussing about gossip? Seems to me you have more important things to be fretting about.”

“Such as?”

He reached across the table and touched a finger to her lower lip, all the while keeping his gaze locked with hers. “Such as the way your skin burns when I touch you like this.”