Dr. Olivia Alvarado switched her attention from her salad to the impossibly handsome man with the shaggy sun-kissed hair, mile-deep dimples, and sea-green eyes that twinkled with humor and mischief.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She slammed her hands on the table. “I don’t think my shots are current,” Olivia hissed. “So get lost!”

She really didn’t expect her unwanted visitor to take a hike; after all, the man’s head was as hard as a granite slab. But she did harbor a slight hope he’d accede to the southern manners his mama had tried to thump into his cranium and go find his own table.

But instead of skedaddling, the twit responded with a boyish grin that had probably stopped girls’ hearts all over south Texas. No! No! No way! Once burned, twice shy! And from experience, Olivia knew this guy was capable of inflicting third degree burns of the heart.

Daisy’s Diner wasn’t full – there were tables everywhere – so why did he want to sit with her? “I’m as serious as a heart attack. Go someplace else for your shot of caffeine. I hear they changed the coffee grounds at the court house,” she proclaimed.

Sheriff C.J. Baker chuckled as he plopped on the vinyl bench next to her and scooted over so close his thigh was plastered against hers. “Sorry, can’t do that. I want to talk to you.”

Olivia moved toward the window and dredged up her best deep-freeze attitude. “Unless it’s in regard to my official capacity as county coroner, I have absolutely nothing to say to you.” She put on her best saccharine sweet smile. “But maybe I need to speak slower for you to understand. Get lost.” Olivia drew out the short command into a polysyllabic order and turned her head.

There was a repeat of that irritating chuckle. “Believe me, I’ve gotten the picture. You won’t answer your phone, you’ve ignored my e-mail, and, believe it or not, I spotted you when you scooted into the Tax Assessor’s office. Darlin’, my mama didn’t raise a dummy. I know avoiding when I see it.” He laughed like he had a delightful secret. “Actually, I thought the Tax Assessor thing was funny.”

As far as Olivia was concerned, nothing associated with C.J. Baker tickled her humor bone.

He picked up her hand and drew tingly little circles on her palm. “Livy, sweetheart. We have to straighten out some things. Please have dinner with me.”

Olivia jerked her hand away. “When hell freezes over! I am not, and read my lips if you’re having trouble grasping this concept, I will not have an affair with a married man!”

Oops, that must have come out a little louder than she expected. Several heads turned in their direction. Good grief! The Port Serenity grapevine would have a field day with this one.

Attention apparently didn’t bother the good sheriff because he simply smiled, and what a smile he had. In his chambray shirt, tight faded jeans, well-worn boots and shiny brass star he could have easily been cast in a remake of the Sundance Kid. Oh boy! Maintaining her immunity to the guy would take a resolve of steel, but Olivia intended to do exactly that. One broken heart was plenty, thank you.

He put his arm on the back of the seat and played with her ponytail. “Funny, I thought I said dinner,” C.J. shrugged and put on his best cat in the creamery expression, “but an affair sounds good to me.”