There's Something About Marty (A Working Stiffs Mystery Book 3) by Wendy Delaney

looked back to see if the epicurean behind me was anyone I knew.
    Correction, his cheese along with several large mushrooms, a bunch of chives, and a bag of fresh spinach. All organic, no doubt.
    Kyle had a twinkle in his eyes when they shifted to my candy bar. “If you eat that you’re going to spoil your lunch.”
    “It’s…” I couldn’t think of a believable lie that wouldn’t make me look like I was PMSing. “It’s a snack for later in case—”
    “In case you don’t like what I’ll be feeding you?” He put my candy bar back on the rack. “Trust me, you’re going to like it.”
    I’d always been wary of men who asked me to trust them, especially the ones who reminded me of my ex.
    I smiled politely. “I’m sure I will.”
    Millie winked at me like we were the second cutest couple she’d seen this week when she rang up his cheese. “Oooh, looks like he’s making something special for you.”
    “Sure looks that way.” And way too much like a date, dang it.
    I needed to get out of there before anyone else I knew saw us together and came to the same conclusion. “I’ll wait for you outside,” I said to Kyle.
    A minute later, he joined me where I had been staring out at Merritt Bay and wishing I could have a redo of my morning. “So, did your meeting end early?” he asked.
    Abruptly was more like it. “Yeah, it didn’t last as long as I thought it was going to.”
    “Want to come over now and make it brunch?”
    Not really but I needed to talk to him, and the sooner the better. “Sure, that would be great.”
    He looked around, squinting against the glare of the sun at my back. “Where’d you park?”
    I pointed to the side lot, where I had tucked the Jag away behind a dusty Red Apple panel truck so that I could stuff my face without an audience. “Back there. How about you?” The only red car in the lot was Millie’s old Saturn.
    “I walked.”
    Of course he had. The marina was only a block away.
    He inched toward my car. “Can I hitch a ride with you? I’d love to check out your interior.”
    If this had been any other day I would have nailed him on his double entendre. Instead, I injected enough frost in my glance so he’d know that I hadn’t called him to play sexually charged games.
    But he had eyes only for the car as we approached. “You don’t see the red leather in an XJ6 every day.”
    “I wouldn’t know. It was my ex-husband’s.” I clicked the remote to unlock the driver’s door. “Give me a second and I’ll open your door.”
    “The remote won’t unlock it?”
    “Nope.” That was just one of a long list of things that had gone wrong with the Jag in the four months since Chris handed over his car keys to my divorce attorney.
    I got behind the wheel and reached across to open the passenger door.
    “Might be the actuator,” he said, climbing in.
    “Yeah, that’s pretty much what my mechanic told me.” Actually, my high school buddy, George at Bassett Motor Works, had said that he wouldn’t know what was wrong with it until he took it apart. Since that sounded scary expensive I’d been in no hurry to get it fixed.
    Looking around, Kyle leaned in my direction to check out the back seat. “Nice.”
    I breathed in his scent, the same fresh combination of soap and sandalwood that I’d noticed last night, and concurred with him on a sensory level. Then I met his gaze and felt color flooding into my cheeks when I realized that he might not have been referring to the car.
    “Okay, then. On to brunch!” I announced a little too loudly as I started the engine.
    “Charmaine—”
    “Char. Only my mother and strangers call me Charmaine.”
    I watched the corners of his lips curl in amusement, his brown eyes warm and kind. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to think of me as a stranger.”
    After last night that would be impossible.
    I forced a smile and was about to shift into reverse when his hand touched mine.
    “And I’d like you to relax. I may have