Sunset Point: A Shelter Bay Novel by Joann Ross Page A

story.”
    “Ah, yes,” she drawled, dripping sarcasm. “The story. Which is it this time? Vampires or zombies?”
    “Neither. Like I said, it’s a ghost. The old guy lives in my house and appears to be determined that you and I meet.”
    She stared at him, trying to discern whether or not he was joking. He had to be. Surely he wasn’t crazy enough to believe the things he earned a very comfortable living writing about were true?
    “I didn’t think you’d believe me,” he said, accurately reading her silence.
    “You’re right. I don’t,” Tess said. “Though I will give you credit for one of the more original pickup lines I’ve ever heard.”
    His grin was as quick as it was dangerous. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that jumping to conclusions often results in uncomfortable landings?”
    “I never jump to conclusions.”
    He nodded as they swerved to avoid a jaywalking pedestrian. “Good for you,” he murmured. “Because if there was ever an occasion that called for an open mind, this is it.”
    She was about to comment on his curious statement when they’d reached the restaurant.
    “This is one of my favorite places,” she admitted as they entered the quaint brick building that had survived even as office towers had sprung up like mushrooms around it.
    “Isn’t that a fortunate coincidence since it happens to be mine, too. I eat here whenever I get up to Portland.”
    From the restaurant owner’s exuberant greeting, it was apparent Breslin was at least telling the truth about being a regular customer. It also didn’t escape Tess’s notice that they were led through the solarium dining room to the most private table on the foliage-and-flower-filled, peaceful patio that was worlds away from the stressful hustle and bustle of the courthouse.
    She found herself wishing she hadn’t discovered that they had anything—even something as innocent as a taste in restaurants—in common.
    “How did you know about me liking this place?” she asked after they’d ordered drinks—a craft beer for him, ice water with a slice of lemon for her.
    “I have a spy in your camp,” he admitted.
    “A spy?”
    “Alexis Montgomery.”
    That was the most surprising thing the man had said thus far. And even more difficult to accept than his stupid alleged ghost.
    “I don’t believe you. Alexis is my best friend. She’d never give away my secrets.”
    His mouth quirked at the corner. “The fact that you enjoy one of the city’s more popular dining spots is not exactly a sacred trust, Ms. Lombardi.”
    Objection overruled . She chalked up a point for him. “So what else did Alexis tell you? And how do you know her?”
    The server chose that moment to arrive with their drinks, then took their meal order, making her wait for his response until they were alone again.
    “Matt Miller is my attorney. And except for the information that you’re a dynamite prosecutor who just happens to appreciate farm-to-table food, as well as telling me that you are much too good for me, Alexis didn’t reveal a single, solitary personal thing about you, Tess.”
    As he took a drink of his beer, Nate saw the relief in her eyes. Alexis was right, he mused. Tess Lombardi was an intensely private person. As was he. Nate liked the idea that they had something in common besides fresh food. And the captain.
    “You really were terrific this morning,” he said, his smile coaxing one in return. “I guarantee that the jury will come in with a unanimous decision for conviction.”
    “I’d like to think you’re right. But the day I believe I can read a jury is the day I chuck law and head for Las Vegas and become a professional poker player.”
    “Let me know so I can get my bets down,” he said with an easygoing grin meant to encourage her to relax.
    “You’ll be the first to know,” she said as the server returned to the table with their lunches. She picked up her fork and took a bite of her field greens salad. “This is