The room has been put back together and it is noticeably different from Jude’s. His exudes intellect and restraint. Rafe’s drips with decadence, all velvety shadow and honeyed firelight that reflects off the cut crystal on his nightstand. A fur rug spills across the floor, separating a claw-footed chaise lounge from the chair in which Rafe sits, a small table at his elbow. On it, a decanter of bourbon catches the light like molten gold. And then, of course, there is his king-sized bed, on which I am lying.
In my undergarments!
“You took them off,” I croak.
“I like to think I saved you from hypothermia, but toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.” He takes a slow sip from his glass. “I considered taking off my own and crawling under the covers with you. It’s the quickest way to warm a person up, you know.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “How did I get here?”
“I brought you.”
“Why?”
“I thought it preferable to leaving you on the bank of the quarry.”
“But what—how?—?”
He swirls his drink, looking amused by my panicked spluttering.
I yank the comforter up to my chin. “Please explain. And give me my pants.”
“Your pants are still wet.”
“Then give me different pants,” I demand.
He sets his glass down with a clink, opens his armoire, reaches past a row of dark, elegant suits, and pulls out a pair of sweatpants, along with a matching crewneck sweatshirt. He hands them to me with a devilish grin.
“Turn around.”
Bowing sardonically, he faces his windows.
The night outside is inky black.
I yank the sweatshirt over my head. The fabric is absurdly soft. Meanwhile, my body feels like it’s been through war. “Why were you at the quarry?”
“I was driving along, about to turn into my humble abode, when you came tearing onto the street in your father’s Bronco like a bat out of hell. Naturally, I was curious. So I followed you. And a good thing, too, for if I hadn’t…” He lets the unspoken words dangle in the air.
If he hadn’t, I would have drowned.
I think about the pearl and everything it showed me as I pull on the sweatpants, which are every bit as soft as the sweatshirt. The police lights. Lainey lying to the officer. “What about the police?”
“What about them?”
“They just let you leave with me?”
“I didn’t wait around to ask permission.”
“So you—you just took me?”
“Again, I was more concerned with the hypothermia.”
I climb out of Rafe’s bed, my muscles screaming in protest. “I witnessed a crime. I saw?—”
“High school teenagers being high school teenagers.” Rafe turns around. “A tragic accident. Ivy Winslow part two.”
“That wasn’t an accident.”
“No?” He cocks his head, firelight dancing in his eyes.
