I wasn’t used to silence meaning this. With other men, quiet moments were filled with calculation, waiting for the next move, the next line in whatever script I needed to follow. But this was different. There was nothing to manipulate here, nothing to scheme. Just Winston, watching the slow flow of the Colorado River, and me, realizing I liked being beside him more than I wanted to admit.
After a while, he turned to me, his eyes reflecting the warmth of the setting sun. “Today has been amazing. I’m really glad we did this.”
“Me, too,” I replied softly, feeling my heart race as I met his gaze.
Damn. I’m not ready for this.
He reached out, his fingers barely brushing my skin as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was light, thoughtful. It was nothing. It was everything.
“I think I’m starting to understand why the sun shines a little brighter around you,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent.
I breathed, trying to find my footing, trying to remind myself of the plan. But for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
My breath caught in my chest, the chemistry between us unmistakable. I leaned in slightly, my eyes locked on his. “Winston, I—”
Before I could finish, Winston closed the distance between us, his lips finding mine in a tender, lingering kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us in the perfect moment.
When we finally pulled back, I felt a mix of exhilaration and contentment, all the wrong feelings seeming so right. “That was ...”
“Perfect,” Winston finished, a smile spreading across his face.
We stayed like that for a while longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the river gently lapping at the shore. I was dreading the moment when we’d have to leave.
The shadows were long and dark when we started riding back. As we reached the dock and dismounted our WaveRunners, Winston took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“This is just the beginning, isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
I hesitated for only half a heartbeat. “Yes.”
District Attorney Mitchell: What services were you hired to provide for the defendant?
Anthony Vega:I was supposed to take celebrity photos of her, to make her look famous ... you know, like a rock star. Then use the photos in an article about her and get it published in the papers.
District Attorney Mitchell:How did you achieve that?
Anthony Vega:I called a few friends. Other freelance photographers like me. The pay was so good I could afford to share a little, and it made it more realistic. She was pleased.
District Attorney Mitchell:Was the defendant targeting anyone specific with her ruse?
Anthony Vega:Yes. She wanted to get the attention of that guy she killed, Winston Donovan.
15
The Desert
I spent the next couple of days pacing the almost empty, oversize house I’d leased for way too much money just to keep up appearances. The beautiful setting did nothing for my fraught nerves.
Lounging by the pool unnerved me, the stillness pressing in. The water shimmered invitingly, its surface smooth and untouched, but even heated, it felt unwelcoming. Too cold. Too empty.
I had laughed, splashing in the Colorado River, the water crisp but invigorating, warmed by the sun, by the thrill of the moment. Byhim. Now the quiet echoed around me, and the warmth I had felt then was nowhere to be found.
I’d been having nightmares again. They woke me up screaming in the middle of the night, wishing there was someone to hold me and fearing it just as much. Winston wasn’t there, but he also wasn’t mine to hold. He belonged, still, to his wife, Claire.
I couldn’t stop thinking of her, and of the two of them together. Had he made love to her that night after being with me, after kissing me on the shores of the Colorado River?
I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. That was the scariest thought that had ever crossed my mind. Realizing I was falling in love withWinston, and knowing just how wrong it all was. I could never give him what he wanted; I could never be the woman he was aching for.
I had always known exactly where I was headed. Every move calculated, every risk measured. But now, my sense of direction was slipping, the compass that had guided me through the last ten years on my own spinning uselessly in my hands.
