Dog Collar Knockoff by Adrienne Giordano

answers are no?”
    He set his elbows on the table and leaned closer. Close enough where, if she wanted to, she could edge a wee-bit forward and…
    He focused on her lips, smiled at her as she drew closer. “Lucie, if my answers are no, my family never knows she exists. And in case you’re wondering, I’d definitely not be bringing her to my brother’s restaurant.”
    He met her gaze and the intensity in his green eyes, the focus, sent an explosion straight from her core. Lawdy, lawdy, the man might make her come apart.
    Needing distance, she broke the eye contact, fiddled with her fork, and checked her other utensils for water spots—because that’s what normal people did, right?
    Across from her, Tim grinned. “Sorry I embarrassed you. Tell me about your day.”
    Her day? Why would he be asking that? He couldn’t have known about the road trip. Could he? She flicked a glance at him then moved to studying her knife. No spots. Clean as a whistle.
    “Um, it was fine. Why do you ask?”
    He puckered his lips for a second, raised his eyebrows. “Generally when people are having dinner, they talk. Maybe about their day.”
    What was wrong with her? This dating thing was strange. “Right. Of course. Good. Good day. How about yours?”
    He scanned the restaurant, his eyes darting over the occupied tables for a few seconds before he came back to her. “Same old thing. Coupla robberies. I did close one case. Been working on that a few months. Finally got the SA’s office to file charges.”
    Careers. Finally, something they could discuss without her nerves disintegrating. “That must be rewarding. To see your work come together like that.”
    “You know it. I like to think I’m goal oriented, so, yeah, every case closed is a goal reached.”
    “Do you like being a detective?”
    The man’s face lit up, every fair-skinned inch. “I love it. There’s always something different. I didn’t like being a beat cop so much. Investigations are different. I like the puzzle.”
    Interesting way to look at police work. Given her current circumstances, she understood that need to connect all the pieces, put them in order to reveal the bigger picture.
    She sat forward and propped her chin in her hand. “How much of what you do is skill versus instinct?”
    “Both. Absolutely. I never discount my instincts. Sometimes it’s the difference between a case going cold and solving it. Even if a lead feels nutty, I follow it.”
    “Huh.”
    Maybe this obsession she had with the could-be-fake painting might be her instincts kicking in, urging her to move forward. Really, her life in general could use a good dose of following her instincts rather than always plotting every aspect of her existence. Goals were one thing, but typically, reality always set in and she’d be forced to adjust her plan. Not be so glued to a list. Four years ago, she imagined she’d be married by now—to Frankie—and making millions as one of Chicago’s hot-shot investment bankers.
    “You look perplexed, Lucie.”
    She shook off her errant thoughts. “No. Just thinking.”
    “About?”
    “Instincts.” She circled her hands around her head. “I tend to think a lot. I wrote a life plan for myself when I was in grad school. I thought it would keep me motivated. And it did. Until I got laid off. Now I wonder if I’ve been too rigid. Too dialed in.”
    An older couple from the next table got up to leave, and Tim’s gaze swept over them. Head to toe, scrutinizing their movements. Had to be a cop thing.
    The couple moved on and he brought his attention back to her. “There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious.”
    “No. But sometimes I second guess myself.”
    Like when I wonder if my client is a thief.
    “Then stop doing that. What’s the worst that will happen?”
    “I’d be wrong.”
    “Last I checked, being wrong wasn’t a crime.” He rested his elbows on the table. “You’re a smart, attractive, no-nonsense woman. Give yourself a