THE SECRET OF CHEROKEE COVE by Paula Graves

put the payment through the computer, Nix leaned closer to Dana, lowering his voice. “Still want to grab something at the diner?”
    She seemed to think about it for a moment, then shook her head. “I’d rather go back to Doyle’s. I’ve had enough ogling from strangers for one day.”
    Nix felt a flutter of disappointment and gave himself a mental kick. What did he think a dinner together would have been, even if she’d agreed to it? A date?
    Don’t be an idiot, Nix.
    “I wouldn’t mind company for dinner, though,” she added quietly, her gaze slanting toward him briefly. “I’m not a great cook, but I can put together something edible. Want to tag along?”
    “Sure,” he said before he could stop himself.
    He followed her car back to Doyle’s, spending most of the short trip trying to talk himself out of the sudden swell of anticipation chasing through his chest. It’s dinner, man. Not a chance to score.
    She seemed to expect him to help her put dinner together, so he followed her into her brother’s small kitchen and started looking for easy options. The chief had several cans of vegetables, so he picked out a few he liked and showed them to Dana for her approval. She nodded at the turnip greens and canned corn, motioning for him to grab a pan and start heating them on the stove.
    She found a box of microwavable fish fillets in the freezer and showed it to Nix. “How far the boy from the beach has fallen,” she drawled, making him smile.
    “We are a little landlocked up here,” he defended the chief.
    “You have lakes, don’t you? He can’t go catch his own?”
    “He’s been busy, you know, defending the town and winning the girl.”
    “I do like Laney,” she said. “She’s a way better woman than I ever thought he’d go for. His taste in women hasn’t always been so discriminating.”
    “Laney’s good people,” he agreed. “You met her family, didn’t you?”
    “Just barely. We’ve all been a little preoccupied since Doyle’s accident.” She opened the box of fillets and pulled out the two frozen slabs of tilapia. “Fish okay with you?”
    “Fish is fine with me.” He searched the pantry for spices to perk up the canned vegetables, settling on the staples—onion powder, garlic powder, black pepper and salt. “Do you do much cooking at home?”
    “There are a dozen great restaurants in walking distance from my apartment.” She shot him a wry smile.
    “I guess you stay too busy to indulge in domesticity?”
    She gave him a sidelong glance as she punched the buttons on the microwave to start it. “You prefer your women to cook, clean and pop out babies?”
    Not at this moment, he thought. “Only if that’s what they want. Just call me an enlightened hillbilly.”
    Smiling, she turned to face him, flattening one hand on the counter and putting the other on her hip. “I don’t mind cooking when I have time and the resources. I’m actually pretty clean by nature. And I guess if my life had turned out differently, I would have liked having babies, too.”
    “No time for marriage and family?”
    “No time, no opportunity.” She shrugged and turned back to look at the microwave. “In my job, most of the men I meet are either already married, not in the market for a work relationship or fugitive felons.”
    “You must love your job, then.”
    “I do. Mostly.”
    “Mostly?”
    She sighed deeply. “My bosses made me take this vacation because I get so focused on my job that it’s probably not healthy. Doyle thinks I focus on the job because it keeps me from dealing with other facets of life.”
    “Like husbands and babies?”
    She shrugged. “Maybe he’s right. I have my reasons.”
    And there she went, dangling a mystery in front of him. He bit. “Such as?”
    She shot him a quelling look. “They’re personal.”
    “Well, yeah, I figured that. But you’re the one who brought it up.”
    Her eyes narrowing, she looked back at him. “What about you? I didn’t see