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over her shoulder. “Is he a relative of yours?”
    Tyler smiled again. “No, he isn’t.”
    “Thank you again, Mr. Cole.”
    He nodded. “You’re welcome, Ms. Nichols.”
    Tyler watched Dana walk from the parking lot, and then followed her. It wasn’t until he reached the front door to Smithy’s that he realized they were going to the same restaurant.
    Reaching over her head, he held the door open. She smiled up at him. “You can really thank me by sharing breakfast, Ms. Nichols.”
    Tyler had no idea why he’d asked Dana to have breakfast with him, but the words were out and he could not retract them.
    Dana’s smile widened. “Okay. But only if I treat,” she added quickly.
    “No.”
    Dana stared at the tall man towering over her by more than half a foot. She was five-six, and estimated he had to be at least six-three. The top of her head reached his shoulder.
    A slight frown appeared between her golden eyes. “No?”
    “I can’t permit you to pay.”
    She walked into Smithy’s, glancing at Tyler over her shoulder. “Hasn’t a woman ever paid for a meal for you?”
    He held her gaze. “No.”
    “Well, Mr. Cole, this is going to be the first time.”She didn’t intend to owe anyone in Hillsboro anything—not even for a morsel of food.
    “Only if the next one is on me,” Tyler insisted.
    She went completely still. Is that the way it had been with her mother? When she’d asked her grandmother about her mother, Georgia had always said that Alicia had only to smile at a man and they would flock to her like bees to honey. Dana may have looked like her mother, but she wasn’t in Hillsboro to attract men. She was there to investigate a murder.
    “Look, Mr. Cole—”
    “Tyler,” he corrected.
    “Tyler?”
    “Yes, Dana?”
    “I’ve come to Smithy’s to eat breakfast, not debate social etiquette or protocol.”
    She hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. She’d prepared an omelet, a slice of toast, and a cup of coffee for herself after she’d returned from burying her grandmother. After cleaning up the kitchen, she’d spent most of the afternoon on the screened-in back porch dozing, before retreating to the bedroom where she’d had slept as a child and falling into a deep sleep that had lasted for hours. She’d awakened several hours before sunrise, disoriented. Lying in bed and waiting for the sun to rise, she’d mentally planned what she needed to do. Dana had one priority—reacquaint herself with Hillsboro, Mississippi.
    Clamping his jaw in frustration, Tyler reached for her hand, leading her over to a table in a corner set with place settings for two and a couple of heavy cafeteria-style white mugs turned upside down on cloth napkins. Dana Nichols was the first woman he’d ever met that made him want to know more about her with only a single glance. And wanting to know her had nothing to do with the whispers floating around town.
    Even though it wasn’t quite eight, many of the tables were occupied. Some had a single diner, while others held as many as six. The distinctive aroma of brewing coffee, broiling bacon, and frying eggs wafted in the air circulated by the whirling blades of ceiling fans.
    Laughter had faded as several middle-aged men stared at Dana, their mouths gaping, when she’d walked into Smithy’s with Tyler Cole. If Alicia had still been alive, she would’ve been fifty-three, close enough to the ages of the men exhibiting stunned gazes. There was no doubt they knew who Dana was, because she was an exact replica of her late mother. It was as if Harry Nichols had had no part in her conception.
    Tyler seated Dana before taking a chair opposite her. She compressed her lips, staring straight ahead. “Are you all right?” His voice was filled with genuine concern.
    She forced a brittle smile. “Of course.” Dana knew she’d lied. She wasn’t all right, wouldn’t be until she uncovered the truth and cleared her family’s name.
    A full-figured waitress with a net