Her Mr. Right?

“What?”

“The boys are standing by the side of the road and I really want to get there as soon as I can. Can you cut your meeting short?”

Isobel’s gaze met Neil’s. She wasn’t sure what she saw there. Curiosity? Interest? Desire? Was her imagination tricking her into thinking this man might be interested in her? She didn’t even want his interest, did she?

Yet being closed in this office with him, inhaling the musky scent of his cologne, appreciating the baritone of his voice as well as his desire to get to the truth, she had to admit she did want to get to know him better, in spite of the consequences or the risk.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” she asked him.

He nodded. “I’m sure. I can have all this packed up in three minutes. Tell your sister you’ll be there as soon as you can.”

As Isobel did just that, she wondered if she was making a terrible mistake.

Neil gave Isobel’s sister’s kitchen a quick study as he pushed open the screen door for John Suarez and juggled two pizza boxes.

A little girl came running to meet the older man, her dark-brown pigtails flying. She looked to be about the age of a first-grader.

“Grandpa, Grandpa. Will you play dominoes with us? Aunt Iz said I should ask.”

Aunt Iz? Neil had to smile as he followed her father inside the cheery kitchen with its purple-pansy and yellow-gingham theme.

A little boy in jeans and a Spider-Man T-shirt added, “Will you play with us? Will you play with us?” to his sister’s question.

Neil leaned close to Isobel. “Aunt Iz?”

“Only my family uses that nickname, so don’t get any ideas.”

He inhaled the honeysuckle scent surrounding her and right away noticed her change of clothes to jeans and a powder-blue T-shirt with a sleeping cat on the front. Printed under the white feline, the print said Don’t wake me unless there’s an emergency.

When she spied him reading her T-shirt, she explained, “I always keep a duffel bag in my car with a change. It comes in handy.” Monitoring what her niece and nephew were doing, she warned gently, “Don’t pull on Grandpa’s arm.”

“I smell pizza,” the little boy said and came over to stand in front of Neil. “Who are you?”

Neil hadn’t been around children much, but he appreciated forthrightness in anyone. He crouched down to the little boy’s level, pizza boxes and all. “I’m Neil Kane. I’m working at the hospital right now with your aunt, and I brought supper.”

The supper part of the explanation intrigued Isobel’s nephew most. “Mom only lets us order pizza one time a week.” He held up his index finger and stared at the boxes with longing. “I like pepperoni. Did you bring pepperoni?”

Neil laughed and stood. “Yes, I did. Your grandfather said that was your favorite.”

“Can we eat now?” the boy pushed.

Isobel ruffled her nephew’s hair. “Why don’t you tell Mr. Kane your name first.”

“My name is Johnny, after Grandpa.” He pointed to his sister. “And her name is Meg. Now can we eat?”

“You get the napkins. I’ll get the silverware. Neil, can you set those on the table?”

Isobel was a manager, no doubt about that.

After they were all seated at the table and Isobel’s father had rolled his pizza so he could eat it one-handed, she asked him, “How did physical therapy go today?”

“They’re trying to turn me into a muscle man. I just want to be able to use my arm again.”

“You’re doing exercises with repetitions now?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Isobel’s dad studied his grandchildren happily munching their pizza and then turned to Isobel and Neil. “This was a good idea, Iz.”

“It was Neil’s,” she admitted, looking up at him, a slight flush on her cheeks.

Was she feeling the heat, too? Had she been fantasizing about a kiss between them? Maybe more?

As if maybe, just maybe, the same thoughts were running through her mind, she broke eye contact and concentrated on cutting her pizza into little pieces.

“Do you always eat it like that?” Neil asked her.

“I’m only having one piece and it will stretch it out.”

“My daughter believes she needs to lose weight,” John explained. “What do you think, Neil?”

“Dad!” Isobel protested, sounding horrified he’d bring up the subject at the table.

“I think Isobel’s perfect the way she is,” Neil said, meaning it.

John Suarez cocked his head and with a twinkle in his eye, asked, “How long are you going to be in Walnut River?”

“As long as it takes to finish my investigation. Probably about three weeks.”

“That’s a shame. Do you think you’ll ever consider settling down some day?”

“Dad!” Isobel protested again.

“I don’t know, Mr. Suarez. I’ve been doing this job for a long time. Traveling is a big part of it.”

“Life changes. Needs change,” Isobel’s dad advised sagely. “Have you ever been serious about someone? Just wanted to be where they were?”

This time when Neil glanced at Isobel, she didn’t protest, she just looked mortified. She murmured, “Dad doesn’t respect boundaries.”

“Boundaries, schmoundaries,” her dad muttered. “Maybe it’s a question you’ve wanted to ask him and didn’t have the guts.”

Isobel looked as if she wanted to throw her napkin at her father. But instead, she put it in her lap, her lips tight together. She was probably biting her tongue.

Meg and Johnny seemed oblivious to the conversation as they stole pieces of pepperoni from each other’s slices of pizza.

Neil knew he could joke off the question. However, if Isobel had wanted to ask it and was too shy to, he might as well give her the answer. “I was married once, but traveling was hard on the relationship.”

“That’s why you split?” John pressed.

“Not entirely. But it was a major stumbling block. My ex- wife and I were naive to think we would stay close when we were miles apart most of the week.”