The idea had prevented her from fully meeting his gaze that morning. He’d made toast—cheese toast and cinnamon toast. She’d forced herself to eat a slice. Not that it wasn’t tasty—it was—but she just couldn’t get any more down. She felt sick with regret for her actions. She was attracted to him, but she should have waited until this was done. Then, if they were both still interested… She had to stop thinking about it.
Not that she wanted to regret a moment of any part of their time together—and really, she didn’t. She only regretted how foolish she probably looked. Detective Lambert had just told her she was no longer a suspect in Raymond’s murder. Chris had let her off the hook after all these years. She should have behaved more like someone thankful for her freedom from accusation…not a lonely woman who had gone without a lover’s attention for far too long.
She dropped her head against the car seat and fought the urge to groan. Instead, she stared out at the empty space that,in a couple of months, would be filled with artisans selling their wares and people excited to explore the many offerings.
Owen had parked very close to the entrance of the large warehouse where the market she had visited with her roommate was held. There was not a single other vehicle anywhere along the street. He had backed into a slot against the tree line opposite the row of warehouses.
“There’s no need to regret anything about last night.”
The sound of his voice filled the car, wrapped around her and made her want to reach out to him. Another groan rose inside her, but she tamped it back. How was she supposed to think clearly? And why was she so transparent?
“It’s not necessary,” he added.
She turned her head, met his gaze and her determination to be stronger melted. “I feel like I came off as a little too needy.” She might as well be honest. She’d had enough lies for several lifetimes.
He smiled. “We were both a bit needy, but that’s human, isn’t it? We have needs, and sometimes, when we’ve ignored them for too long, they come on a little strong.”
His words made so much sense. “I…” She swallowed back the doubt. “I enjoyed theuspart of last night. I know it wasn’t real, just part of this thing.” She stared forward once more. “But I enjoyed being with you…like that.”
He placed his open hand, palm up, on the console. “I very much enjoyed theuspart as well, and it was very real.”
She stared at his hand…his long fingers. She placed her hand there, their fingers entwined. Warmth spread through her, and her smile widened. “I slept in that tee you wore.”
He smiled. “I’ll hold on to that image, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” She returned the smile.
They both looked forward then. Maybe to prevent the kiss that would no doubt have happened next. Even Leah understood this was not the time to get distracted. Focus. It was necessary.
The minutes slipped past, and she tried to think of something more to say. It was midmorning, and it was already hot. No, she wasn’t bringing up the weather.
“I haven’t noticed that black car again.” Now,thatseemed like an appropriate topic.
“Maybe because Lambert’s people have been around. Since the detective doesn’t know about this morning’s rendezvous, it’s possible our elusive follower will make an appearance.” He turned to her then. “All the more reason to be extra careful.”
She nodded. “Okay.” The area was deserted. They were flanked by trees on one side and a long row of warehouse-type buildings—most of which were either closed at this hour or deserted for the summer—on the other.
“I keep asking myself,” Leah said, the recurring thought suddenly pushing to the front of her mind, “if Raymond was a part of this in the beginning.”
“How do you mean?”
She wished she knew. “I mean, he didn’t die in the kitchen on Saturday night. According to the medical examiner, he likely didn’t die until late on Monday. I’m aware that he may have been held hostage until then, but the part that makes me question his innocence on any level is that when I saw him being dragged away…his eyes were open and there was blood on his temple. If he was alive and unconscious, why were his eyes open? If he was knocked out, why was there no head injury the blood could have come from?”
“You make an excellent point,” Owen agreed. “If he was a cooperating party, then perhaps your former roommate will know since she helped to set up the date. And we can’t forget that he added you as a beneficiary to his life insurance policy.”
Somehow she kept trying to block that part. “You’re right. There’s really no way he wasn’t part of this well before Saturday night.” Leah exhaled a frustrated breath. “It’s ridiculous, I know, but I don’t want to not be angry withher. A part of me wants to believe she would never do this. I mean, I’ve known her for three years. We lived together. I just can’t see her doing this. Yet it appears to be the only logical explanation.”
Owen turned to her. “Sometimes there is no logic to be found. Particularly if the action involved a strong emotion, like jealousy or revenge…maybe anger.”
Another thought occurred to Leah. “Is it possible that Raymond figured out Isla wasn’t really Isla? Maybe he was blackmailing her—forcing her to participate. That is motive, and it’s oddly logical.”
“I’ve considered that as well,” Owen agreed. “Whatever drove her, whatever part she played, I believe it’s imperative that we proceed with caution. If she feels cornered or that you represent a threat, your safety could be in jeopardy, and she certainly won’t talk to us under those circumstances.”
Leah recognized he was right. Whatever she thought she knew about her roommate, all bets were off at this point. She couldn’t trust her.
Alyssa Jones, aka Isla Morris, suddenly appeared behind the gate that led into the alley between two of the buildings. Leah’s breath caught. She forced herself to raise her hand and wave.
“That’s her,” Leah said, though she imagined Owen was well aware.
