Liz would bet that piece of paper had blown at least a block. Cars had driven over it, people had stepped on it, but only Joe had bothered to pick it up and put it in the trash.

Switching her shoulder bag to her other arm, she reached for the door he held open, then followed him inside. The purse was smaller than she normally carried, but her GLOCK didn’t fit inside just any old bag. She ordered a frozen hazelnut coffee blend with extra whipped cream as she slipped her debit card from the pocket next to the.45.

Joe waved the card away, but she insisted. “If you want to make me coffee at home for free, I’ll accept, but not here.”

“Consider it a sample.”

“I’ve already had a sample and I liked it,” she pointed out, and just that quickly, the air turned hot and heavy. She was in sorry shape when a truly innocent comment could raise her blood pressure and her core temperature into the danger zone.

Judging by the intensity of his stare, he was in equally sorry shape.

After he swiped her card, she went to a table, sat down and crossed her legs. Her foot bobbed in the air, displaying her to-die-for sandal at its best. She’d learned on her first job to use the tools she had, and with Joe, she was well aware, that included her legs.

He brought her drink to the table, along with a glass of water for himself. “How do you walk in those things?”

She stretched out her leg, tilting her foot from side to side. “Rather gracefully, I think. Don’t you?”

“I wasn’t watching.” He pulled out the chair across from her and sprawled in it.

Liar. Liz sipped the coffee drink and practically hummed with satisfaction. “Whoever invented frozen coffee was a genius. It’s even better than ice cream.”

“Better than sex.”

She took a long sip, her gaze locked on him, then shook her head. “If you think that, you’ve been sleeping with the wrong women.”

Pink tinged his cheeks even as he frowned at her. A grown man who still blushed. How cool was that?

“That’s the name of a drink at this little shop I used to go to in Chicago,” he explained. “Coffee, ice cream, hazelnut, chocolate-I don’t know what all went into it. But it was pretty damn impressive.”

“And you haven’t tried to duplicate it?”

“It was their creation, not mine.” He gestured out the window. “You just missed Natalia and the dogs.”

“I saw them drag her around the corner. She’s a very good friend to take care of them for you.”

Joe snorted. “She’s the one who brought them home. It’s only fair that she share the responsibility.”

Liz used the tip of the straw to scoop some whipped cream off the top of her drink. “I heard you calling them last night. Bad Dog? Worse Dog? You should be ashamed of yourself. They need proper names.”

“They have names. The fuzzy one’s Bear, and the female…We decided she’s rather regal. You know, queen of all she surveys, so she needed a queenly name.” Humor glinted in his blue eyes. “I chose Elizabeth.”

“ Elizabeth,” she repeated.

“It was either that or Latifah, and she doesn’t look like a Latifah to me. Elizabeth just seems to fit her.”

“So…” She took a long moment to lick every bit of whipped cream off the straw-too long if the sudden paleness that crept into his face was any indication. “Is there supposed to be some subtle message in naming your dog after me? Like, oh, I don’t know…that we’re both bitches?”

He looked far too innocent for any male over the age of ten, especially one who’d grown up since the womb with Josh Saldana. “I would never call you that.”

“But you might think it.” He shrugged, and she laughed. “I’ve had worse insults than having a dog named after me. Besides, your Elizabeth is pretty, runs you ragged and is totally beyond your control. Sounds good to me.”

“That’s what they make dog trainers and crates for-to put her completely under my control.”

It was Liz who snorted this time. “Not that one. For a puppy, she has a very strong sense of self. It’ll be easier for you to bend to her will than to bend her to yours.”

“Probably so.” He rested his head against the window behind him, eyes closed. “Like it would be easier to tell you where Josh is than to convince you I don’t know.”

Her gut clenched and her hand developed a fine tremor. Excitement, she told herself, because the last couple months’ work might pay off. Not disappointment at all. Hadn’t she told Mika that she didn’t believe Joe’s claim about not knowing where Josh was? Hadn’t she thought he was lying?

But thinking and knowing were two different things.

With her pleasure in the coffee gone, she set the cup on the table. “So you do know.”

He opened one eye to look at her, then both. His gaze was steady, nothing in its blue depths. No guilt, no regret, no shame. Just a cool, even, unwavering look. “No, I don’t.”

“But you said-”

He shook his head. “It would be easier to lie to you than to convince you that I’m not lying.”

Relief and irritation and the faint niggling suspicion that he was still lying made her scowl. “Do you really expect me to believe that your identical twin brother who has relied on you to save his ass all your lives hasn’t been in touch with you for more than two years?”

The bell announced two customers, and he glanced their way, greeting them with a nod, before turning his attention back to her. “See, that’s the problem, Liz.” He stood, scooted the chair back up to the table and picked up his glass before he leaned close. “I don’t care what you believe.”

She breathed in, catching a whiff of his cologne beneath the scent of sweetened coffee, and resorted to a shallower, insufficient breath as he walked away. He moved easily, comfortably, giving no hint to his customers that he had recently been the least bit flustered.

Proved he was a good liar, didn’t it?

Business picked up, giving Joe a legitimate reason to keep his distance from her. She finished her drink and considered ordering another, weighing a few more minutes of coffee heaven against the workout required to keep the calories from going straight to her hips, and regretfully decided against it.

Instead, she stood, left a tip anchored under the cup, and strolled across the dining room to the door, outside onto the sidewalk and out of sight.

When Liz got home, Mrs. Wyndham was kneeling near the flower beds that marked the border between the main house and the cottages. Shading her eyes against the sun in spite of the floppy hat she wore, she gave Liz half a second to get out of the car, then called to her. “Don’t you look pretty today?”

“Why, thank you, Mrs. Wyndham.” Liz headed her way, pausing to kick off her shoes once she reached the grass. As she passed the pink cottage, movement inside caught her eye-a shadow at the screen door, flanked by two smaller shadows. She wiggled her fingers in greeting, though she couldn’t see if Natalia responded.

The color surrounding the old lady was provided by flats of flowers awaiting planting, at least a dozen or more. Wiggling her toes in the lush, sun-warmed grass, Liz said, “You’ve got almost enough flowers here to make my mother happy.”

“Is your mother a gardener?”

“Only part-time, but she has a very green thumb, which I didn’t inherit. I’m lucky to keep a cactus alive.”

“I don’t believe in green thumbs,” Mrs. Wyndham said seriously. “Gardening is a science. Plants have certain requirements, and if you meet them, they flourish. If you don’t, they die.”

“Oh, but it’s an art, too. Shaping the beds, mixing colors, knowing what looks good where…and you’re a master artist, Mrs. Wyndham.”

“I’d better be. I’m one of the cofounders of the horticultural society in town.” Removing one dirt-encrusted glove, the old lady lifted a flat of zinnias from a cart that doubled as a bench and shoved it in her direction. “How’s Joe?”