Sunset Point: A Shelter Bay Novel by Joann Ross

of here.”
    Nate forced himself to remain outwardly nonchalant. He slipped his hands into the pockets of the khakis he’d dug out of the back of his closet to wear to the courthouse. Another perk of the writing gig was that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a suit.
    “I can’t stop you. But I’d certainly appreciate it if you didn’t have me thrown in the slammer until you hear me out.”
    “You said I was driving you crazy,” she said.
    She was looking at him. Hard and deep. Like a hostile witness she was about to begin cross-examining. Nate wondered what she was going to say when he told her that a ghost had mysteriously slipped her into his dreams night after night.
    “You were driving me crazy. Are,” he corrected.
    A couple of reporters Nate recognized as working for The Oregonian passed, eyeing them with unmistakable interest.
    “Look, it’s a little difficult to discuss it here. You were planning to eat, weren’t you?”
    Tess felt herself weakening, despite her best intentions. Although she knew she should turn on her heel and march out of the courthouse without listening to another insane word, she found herself rooted to the spot.
    It’s only curiosity, she assured herself. That’s all. Curiosity.
    “I was,” she admitted. “I don’t usually take the time, but I didn’t have breakfast this morning. And I still have another case to sum up this afternoon.”
    She didn’t bother to mention that after an unusually restless night brought on by her out-of-the-blue encounter with Nate Breslin, she’d overslept, waking up a mere twenty minutes before she was due in court. There was no point in letting the annoying man know that he’d affected her in any way.
    “Have lunch with me, counselor,” he coaxed with a winning smile. “And I promise you a true-to-life ghost story that beats any fictional tale I’ve ever written.”
    “Ghost stories don’t really interest me.”
    “Not even when you play a starring role?”
    “Now you’re definitely lying.”
    “Those disapproving Puritans referred to fiction as nothing more than a well-told lie. If that were truly the case, I suppose you could rightfully accuse me of making my living telling whoppers,” he agreed. “But I swear I haven’t added a single embellishment to this particular tale.” He lifted his right hand as if taking an oath. His eyes lit with a humorous spark that, while totally different than the frustrated anger of last night, could be even more dangerous.
    “I know I’m going to regret this.”
    “Does that mean you’ll have lunch with me?”
    “How could I resist such a unique invitation?” she asked dryly.
    As they walked down the steps of the courthouse, Tess glanced pointedly at her watch. “I do hope this little tale of intrigue is a short story. I have to be back by two.”
    “For Kagan’s son’s trial. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t risk putting you in contempt of court.”
    Despite his easy promise, Tess had the feeling that Breslin would do exactly that if he had a mind to. It was obvious that the man was accustomed to getting his way. She’d be well advised to keep that fact in mind.

11
    “What would you say to walking a couple blocks?” Nate asked, naming a restaurant that was a slice of old Portland and a mainstay of the city’s dining and social scene.
    “The place is packed at lunch. We’ll never get a table in time for me to make it back to the courthouse.”
    “No problem. I’m a friend of the owner. We have a table waiting for whenever we get there.”
    Tess folded her arms. “Well, no one can accuse you of not having an oversized ego. You were that sure I’d have lunch with you?”
    “If you hadn’t agreed, I would’ve eaten alone. As for the reservation, I was trying to make things easier for you.”
    “If you were truly interested in making things easier, you simply would have left my wallet at the office.”
    “If I’d done that, you would’ve missed one helluva good