“It is tonight.”
The certainty in his voice made her heart skip.
Reid stepped closer.
His hand slid lightly to her waist, fingers brushing the thin fabric of her dress before settling there.
“You’re doing that thing again,” she said.
“What thing?”
“Looking at me like you’re about to do something reckless.”
“Probably am.”
“Is this where I remind you I warned you this wouldn’t work?”
“You did,” he said.
“And yet here we are.”
“And yet.”
Then he kissed her.
This one was slower. Deeper.
Her hands slid up to his shoulders, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. He tasted like wine and basil and something that felt too much like wanting more.
For a moment, nothing else existed.
When they finally pulled apart, she looked at him.
“Well.”
Eleanor glanced at him, something unspoken catching in her chest.
The feeling came out of nowhere—a prickle at the back of her neck. Like they weren’t alone after all.
Headlights swung around the corner. Too bright.
A van withFading Awaystenciled along the side rolled to a stop — the rival podcast chasing the same story Lila Grant had already set loose.
Camera lights exploded across the brick walls.
Eleanor blinked against the glare.
“Eleanor Harper!”
A microphone appeared.
“Is it true you’re representing David Mercer?”
Another voice shouted.
“Do you believe Mercer murdered Caroline Simms?”
The name hit like a thrown stone.
