"I think the only place Mama and Papa Rossi want her is barefoot, pregnant, and cooking all day for her husband."

"She's married?"

"You interested?"

The shandy soured on Landon's tongue, and this time he didn't even try to keep the dry, flat notes from his voice. "It was a simple question. And how modern of Mama and Papa."

"You think Emma's father is all that different? He's coming around, but she still gets comments from time to time. A woman's place is in the home and all that."

"I can't imagine that goes over all that well."

Nick smiled, the expression quickly turning fierce. "I've witnessed a few of those arguments. And no, it doesn't go over well at all."

"Good for her. Emma's good at her job. She shouldn't apologize for it."

Nick nodded his head toward a back table. "I've got a table of career women who knocked off early today to celebrate a big new-business win. You go over there with that attitude and you're bound to get lucky."

Although approaching a table of four women might prove more intimidating than Landon wanted to admit, he did turn to look. All were attractive, especially the redhead directly opposite him, her glass of wine lifted high in a toast. If his head wasn't so full of a certain dark-haired beauty with an equally determined set to her shoulders, the redhead would have had him swallowing the intimidation factor and walking over.

Nick moved on to help another customer, and Landon returned to his beer. There was no reason to compare any of those women to Daphne Rossi. But he'd be damned if he couldn't help doing it anyway.

Daphne told herself it was a simple way to mix business with pleasure. After Cade had left her alone, she'd spent a few hours following up on two open cases that had proven frustrating, then switched to a robbery that had occurred in the park the other night that was pretty much open and shut. She'd blown through the requisite paperwork, itching to get done and get out of work.

And damn it, no matter how much she attempted to focus on her computer screen and not her roiling thoughts, she'd been itchy all day.

Something about Landon McGee had set her off, and she wasn't quite sure what to do about it.

So here she was, sitting at a two top in the End Zone with her best friend, checking out the crowd while trying to remain unobtrusive in the back corner. She'd spotted Landon the moment she'd walked in, but escaped his notice as he spoke to his brother at the bar.

Jasmine closed her menu. "I'm doing one of those big margaritas they whip up behind the bar."

"Make it two."

"Yum. And those gooey cheese fries they make." Tall and slim, Jasmine Shane had never met a plate of fries, brownies or cake that she didn't love. None of which managed to stick even a moment on her lithe frame.

"You realize that's an extra hour in the gym for me every night this week?"

Jaz shrugged. "Live a little."

"Easy for you to say."

"Tell ya what. Enjoy the margarita, and I'll do that Zumba class you've been on me about. Even if I do look like a spastic giraffe in yoga pants."

"You'll look gorgeous."

Jasmine snorted and shook her head. "The zoo wouldn't take me."

Their waitress, a short, no-nonsense woman with springy, corkscrew curls and enough attitude to straighten them came up to their table.

"Patty!" Jasmine leaped up and hugged the woman before taking her seat. Although Jaz might have the height, there was nothing giraffelike about her. Or spastic.

Which, Daphne knew, she'd do her level best not to hold against her.

"You're still the best kid I ever babysat for." Patty gave Jasmine one more side-armed hug. "Can't say the same for your brother."

"I'd like to say Quinton's grown out of his standard assortment of tricks, but that's not the case, by a long shot. He's simply changed his tactics."

"What'd he do lately?"

"For starters, he scared my mother halfway out of her skin last week by telling her he was moving to DC."

"Is he?"

"He's a year away from making partner. I don't think he's giving that up."

Something wavered in Patty's eyes before it vanished. "You never know. Sometimes it's good to get out of the neighborhood and spread your wings."

Daphne said nothing but understood what Patty meant. There were about a million reasons she'd stayed in Brooklyn, and about a million more that regularly nudged her to consider an alternative. Nearly all of them revolved around her family.

"What would you like tonight?"

Talk of margaritas and cheese fries pulled Daphne from her thoughts, and she only nodded when Jasmine chose the fries and a plate of nachos. Once Patty walked off, Jasmine leaned over the table. "So why are we really here?"

"We're blowing off steam. Both of us had a long day and needed a break and some girl talk."

Jasmine only nodded before she tilted her gaze in the direction of the bar. "And our presence in this bar on this evening has absolutely nothing to do with that rather attractive man sitting over there nursing a beer, who you've stared at off and on ever since we walked in. A man, my sources tell me, you spent all morning with."

And there was reason one million and one.

Daphne mentally tallied "nosy best friend" on the reasons to stay and go lists before she let out a small sigh. "You don't miss much."

"All part of a public defender's job description." Jaz leaned over and took Daphne's hand. "But that goes double as your friend."

Daphne ran through roughly the same set of information she'd shared with Cade earlier, adding on a few more details she'd gleaned through the afternoon. Even with her friend's unwavering support and understanding, she still censored the personal, retelling the details with rigid efficiency.

"That's a rough childhood."

"You see it every day."

"I do. And all too often, they don't end nearly as well as Landon and his brothers."

"You know them?"

"About as peripherally as you. They were all already out of high school before we went in. Q knows them a bit better. He played on the occasional summer softball league with them. And I know he uses Fender's auto-body shop."

Jasmine Shane had been Daphne's best friend since the day they'd traded sandwiches at lunch. Daphne was the pint-sized second grader from the big Italian family who had sausage, peppers, and onions on a thick Italian roll in her My Little Pony lunch box. She'd taken a seat next to the tall, elegant black girl with the thick-lensed glasses who was already reading at a fifth-grade level and who sat alone every day in the cafeteria with her peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich, Goldfish crackers, and whatever book she was currently devouring.

Jasmine had asked about the smell coming out of Daphne's vividly pink lunch box and, once told, asked for a taste. When she'd discovered Jasmine actually liked the contents, Daphne had dragged her home that afternoon for a playdate and whatever else her mother had slow-cooking on the stove.

They'd been inseparable ever since.

One of the kitchen runners dropped off their nachos and fries and promised the margaritas were on their way, then hustled off with two burgers for a waiting couple a few tables over. Daphne reached for one of the plates stacked on the edge of their table. "I am not staring at the bar."

"You are staring, with a side of desperate longing."

Daphne stopped, a stack of nachos halfway to her plate. "That's so unfair."

"Doesn't make it any less true."

"I'm not desperate."

"When was the last time you went on a date?" Jaz's hand was already up in a stop motion of anticipation. "Not one of your mother's fix ups."

"Those are dates."

"A date by choice. That you're actually excited about."

Daphne fought the well that opened up in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't been on a date in a while. Certainly not one she wanted to be on since Mike. They'd had a few good years together, and then he'd gotten weird and distant once she started studying for the detective's exam.

"It's been a while."

Unwavering support filled Jasmine's gentle brown eyes. "I know, sweetie. I know. Which is why you need to trade in longing for a go-get-'em attitude and go talk to that man right over there."

"He's part of my caseload."

"Oh come on. The case is practically open and shut. There's nothing wrong with talking to the guy socially."

"It's awkward."

A deep, husky laugh drifted across the table. "It's attraction. It's supposed to be awkward. Irresistibly so. So get over there."

"He's talking to his brother."

"He's also about to be bait for that table of women over there." Jasmine tilted her head toward a group of well-dressed women growing louder by the minute. "If you can't wrap your mind around flirting, perhaps you can consider it your civic duty and save him from his inevitable doom."

Images of Stephanie Sullivan cackling over size thirteen feet filled her mind's eye and had Daphne standing before she could check the impulse.

It looked like she now had reason one million and two.

Three.

Nick's suggestion to go talk to the table of women had lingered in Landon's mind, but it was the uncomfortable itch at the back of his neck that had him finally turning on his stool to face the tables. He'd barely given the group of laughing women a glance when his gaze settled on Daphne Rossi seated at a back table with a friend and chatting it up with the End Zone's living legend and head barmaid, Patty.

The shock of seeing her quickly faded as the telltale whispers of opportunity rose up instead. He'd avoided the immediate sizzle of attraction earlier, but now took the time to give the good detective a more leisurely perusal.

And found she was even more beautiful the second time around.

Long hair still curled around her shoulders before spilling over her back, but she'd obviously done something to amp up the smokiness of her eyes. Even from here, he saw the way her deep brown eyes seemed to take up her face. There was a warmth about her that hadn't been readily apparent when she was in cop mode. The focused, driven professional had given way to a younger, more carefree version of the same person, and he was even more intrigued than earlier.

But why was she here?

He'd admit to the spark of attraction-and how odd that it was the biggest spark he'd felt in a long time-but he'd never been a big believer in coincidence.

So why was it they met that morning over a break-in, and now, ten hours later, she sat inside his brother's bar? Was she keeping an eye on him?

Was it because of his reactions earlier? Or the way he got upset when she intimated his biological mother might be involved?

Landon turned back to the bar, glad for a few moments of quiet as his brother worked the opposite end. Nick and Fender typically avoided prying, but Landon was well aware he had few poker skills when it came to Amber McGee.

Since he spent as little time as possible thinking about her, that failing usually worked in his favor.

But damn, why was this surfacing now?

He was quite sure his mother's poor choices had nothing to do with what was going on with his business. Hell, assuming she'd even survived to middle age. Sixteen when she'd had him, she'd be hitting fifty now. That was ancient for an addict and all-around party girl.

Even as he thought it, another weight added to the one that already rested on his stomach. He'd comforted himself with the thought that she'd vanished a long time ago, leaving him to something better. Something honest and true and valuable-a new life with a new mother and ready-made family of brothers.

But dead?

That one sat harder than he wanted to admit.

"Landon." A light tap to his shoulder came just after his name, and he swung around, looking straight into warm, smoky eyes that stayed level on his. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Back for more, Detective Rossi?" The words slipped out-hardly the warm welcome he felt toward her-as he gestured with his free hand.

"More what?"

What he'd intended as a taunt fell flat, her knowing smile still tilting the edges of her lips. "More questions without answers."

Undeterred, she reached for a handful of the bar snacks from one of the small silver dishes Nick kept perpetually full. "No more questions. Instead I thought I'd say hello. Possibly even save you from the marauding career women who've been eyeing you like payday."

Since she'd basically reinforced all the reasons he was still sitting, bellied up at the bar, he couldn't quite hold back the smile. "Coming to my rescue? That makes twice today."

"Oh, I don't know. I suspect you hold your own quite well. But I couldn't sit back and not attempt to offer my help."

"Help?"

"Oh yes. We gals in blue take our work very seriously."

"So it seems."