She believed she was in love with him. After they were committed, emotionally and legally, he would take as much time as necessary to make certain it was true.
The elevator opened, and Alex dug for his keys. They’d order in tonight, he decided. Put on some music, light some candles. He grimaced as he fit the key into the lock. No, she’d probably had that routine before, and he’d be damned if he’d follow someone else’s pattern. He’d have to think of something else.
He opened the door with his arms full of nodding lilacs, his mind racing to think of some clever, innovative way to ask Bess to be his wife. The color went out of his face and turned his eyes to midnight. He felt something slam into his chest. It was like being shot.
She was standing in the center of the room, her laughter just fading away. In another man’s arms, her mouth just retreating from another man’s lips.
“Charlie, I—” She heard the sound of the door and turned. The bright, beaming smile on her face froze, then faded away like the laughter. “Alexi.”
“I guess I should have knocked.” His voice was dead calm. Viciously calm.
“No, of course not.” There were butterflies in her stomach, and their wings were razor-sharp. “Charlie, this is Alexi. I’ve told you about him.”
“Sure. Think I met you at Bess’s last party.” Lanky, long-haired and obviously oblivious to the tension throbbing in the air, he gave Bess’s shoulders a squeeze. “She gives the best.”
Alex set the flowers aside. One fragile bloom fell from the table and was ignored. “So I’ve heard.”
“Well, I’ve got to be going.” Charlie bent to give Bess another kiss. Alex’s hands clenched. “You won’t let me down?”
“Of course not.” She worked up a smile, grateful that Charlie was too preoccupied to sense the falseness of it. “You know how happy I am for you, Charlie. I’ll be in touch.”
He went out cheerfully, calling out a last farewell before he shut the door. In the silence, Alex noticed the music for the first time. Violins and flutes whispered out of her stereo. Very romantic, he thought, and his teeth clenched like his fists.
“Well.” Her eyes were burning dry, though her heart was weeping. “I can see I should explain.” She walked over to the wine she’d poured for Charlie and topped off her glass. “I can also see that you’ve already made up your mind, so explanations would be pointless.”
“You move fast, Bess.”
She was glad she had her back to him for a moment. Very glad, because her hand trembled as she lifted the wine. “Do you think so, Alexi?”
“Or maybe you’ve been seeing him all along.”
“You can say that?” Now she turned, and the first flashes of anger burst through her. “You can stand there and say that to me?”
“What the hell do you expect me to say?” he shot back. He didn’t go near her. Didn’t dare. “I walk in here and find you with him. A little music, a nice bottle of wine.” He wished he had been shot. It couldn’t possibly hurt more than this bite of betrayal. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“No. No, I don’t.” She needed to sit, but she locked her knees straight. “But I must be to have been so careless as to have an assignation here when you were bound to find me out.” Her eyes were like glass as she toasted him. “Caught me.”
He took a step forward, stopped himself. “Are you going to tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”
In the thrum of silence, the flutes sang. “No, I’m not going to tell you that. I’m not ashamed that I once cared enough for a very good man to be intimate with him. I’d tell you that I haven’t been with Charlie or anyone else since I met you, but the evidence is against me, isn’t it, Detective?”
She was so tired, Bess thought, so terribly tired, and the scent of the lilacs made her want to weep. Rosalie’s funeral had been that morning, and she’d quietly made the arrangements herself. She’d gone alone, without mentioning it to Alex. But she’d needed him.
“You let him kiss you.”
“Yes, I let him kiss me. I’ve let lots of men kiss me. Isn’t that the problem?” She set down the wine before she could do something rash, like tossing it to the floor. “You didn’t come to me a virgin, Alexi, nor did I expect you to. That’s one of the big differences between us.”
“There’s a bigger difference between a virgin and a—”
He broke off, appalled with himself. He wouldn’t have meant it. Stumbling, horrified apologies whirled through his head. But he could see by the way her head jerked up, the way her color drained, that there would be no taking back even the unsaid.
“I think,” she said in an odd voice, “you’d better go.”
“We haven’t finished.”
“I don’t want you here. Even a whore can choose.”
His face was as pale as hers. “Bess, I didn’t mean that. I could never mean that. I want to understand—”
