Desert Lost (9781615952229) by Betty Webb

sorry.”
    He held up his hand. “Apologies aren’t necessary.”
    â€œIf you…” This time I stopped myself before I finished with if you want to call it off, I’ll understand.
    â€œReal life’s a lot different than screen romance, isn’t it, Lena?”
    I was afraid to ask him what he meant, but I figure it had something to do with happy endings.
    â€œIt’s my own fault, because I know you better than you know yourself, and there’ve been no surprises. Now, are you ready to tell me what happened to your face? And your arm? Or are you under the impression my eyesight’s going?”
    â€œCar trouble.”
    â€œLena. Stop it.”
    I told him.
    Instead of renewing his pleas for me to quit the case, he stared off into the distance through the yellow sky. “And they say Los Angeles has smog.”
    â€œOurs isn’t as bad.”
    â€œGive it time.”
    â€œIt’s blue, most days.”
    He finally looked at me through troubled eyes, and I knew it wasn’t the smog he was worried about. But he just said, “Let’s get the rest of this stuff unpacked, okay?”
    By one o’clock, we had emptied the rest of the cartons except for those stacked in his office. Exhausted, I plopped myself down on the sleek leather sofa positioned to overlook the city.
    He sank down next to me. “I’m keeping the bulk of my stuff at the Beverly Hills house. Probably a good thing, too, since it looks like I might be spending more time out there than I’d planned. But that’s all right, seeing as how you don’t have much time to spend with me these days.” His tone was neutral, yet his words stung.
    â€œWarren…”
    He put a gentle hand over my mouth. “No more apologies. Your life is your life. My life, well, it’ll be what it’s going to be, with you or without you. I’d just hoped it would be with you.”
    I pressed his hand closer, kissed it. “It’s not too late.”
    What with one thing and another, we wound up in bed, smearing our grungy, sweaty bodies all over fresh sheets.
    ***
    Later, Warren asked, “When are you going to tell me you have to get back to the office?” His tanned chest gleamed against the white sheets.
    Finally relaxed, I smiled. “I’m working nights this week. Running surveillance on the polygamists while Jimmy holds down the fort.”
    â€œLena, those people…”
    â€œWe’d better not get started talking about them. I made a promise to Rosella.”
    â€œAs if Scottsdale PD can’t conduct a simple murder investigation. You used to be a cop, so you have to know better.”
    â€œLike I said, I made a promise.”
    He said nothing else for a while, then reached for me again.
    ***
    We’d skipped lunch so we had an early dinner by the pool, with Warren doing chef’s honors. Due to the Environmental Advisory, the second in a week, he didn’t crank up the barbeque, just quick-seared two New York strips on the kitchen stove while I put together a salad.
    â€œWe’d make a good team, Lena,” he said, his voice wistful.
    I leaned over the table and gave him a quick kiss. “Because we both work in the film industry?”
    I’d meant it as a joke, but his face grew serious. “Hardly. If anything, that’s an impediment. But now that you bring it up, Angel’s in trouble.”
    Angel—Angelique Grey, as she was known in her acting credits—was Warren’s ex-wife and the mother of his twin girls. She was also the star of Desert Eagle , the private eye TV series I did consulting work for. Against all odds, we’d become friends. “What kind of trouble? And why hasn’t she called me? She knows I’ll help.”
    He frowned. “Don’t you remember the last time you ‘helped’ her? Angel, along with an entire conference room full of people, wound up involved in a