glass of tequila.
“Nothing special. I stopped by the market on the way home from work and spotted a great buy on salmon, so I got some for us. Ready?”
“I’m ready.”
She continued to chatter throughout dinner. Zac let her, content to eat the beautifully poached salmon and listen to Guinevere’s conversation. The truth was, most of the time he liked listening to her talk. She had a talent for soothing him or teasing him or nagging him or arguing with him that was very satisfying. Zac had a feeling he could listen to her for the rest of his life, merely taking steps to close her mouth when he was ready to take her to bed. Maybe not even then. He liked the small, passionate sounds she made in bed. But there was no getting around the fact that her conversation tonight contained a thread of tension. Zac waited. He was a patient man, and he’d always been good at waiting when it was necessary.
After dinner Guinevere sat back in her chair and drained the last of her wine. “That,” she announced, “was terrific salmon, even if I do say so myself.”
“It was,” Zac agreed, smiling at her. “And this kitchen will smell of fish tomorrow if I don’t empty your garbage for you tonight. I’ll take care of it while you start the dishes.”
“Why do I always get to start the dishes while you empty the trash? There’s a male-chauvinist pattern developing in this household, Zac Justis.” But she got to her feet and began rinsing dishes under the faucet.
“Some things are biologically preordained,” Zac explained as he hauled the garbage out from under the sink. “Women have evolved with a certain innate ability to do dishes, and men seem to have gotten stuck with a talent for emptying garbage. I suppose it’s all fair enough, when you consider the great cosmic scheme of things. Be back in a minute.”
He opened a drawer and found a twist tie for the garbage sack and headed for the front door. The building’s garbage chute was located near the stairs in the outside hall. Standing before the metal panel that opened onto the chute, Zac caught the stale cigarette smell as he started to twist the tie around the plastic bag.
He stood still for a moment, thinking. Then he calmly opened the bag and glanced inside. He found the damp cigarette butt under the paper that had been used to wrap the salmon. Zac stared at it for a moment and then twisted the bag closed and dumped it down the chute. He would be patient.
***
The damning photos arrived in Guinevere’s mail the following day.
She had decided to go back to the apartment before returning to the office after lunch, and her mail had already arrived. The lack of a return address in the upper left-hand corner made her curious about the plain manila envelope. She tore it open with an inexplicable sense of urgency. The message was as straightforward as the one Sally Evenson had received. It also appeared to have been typed on the same typewriter. Madame Zoltana had been busy.
Guinevere stood in the hall of her apartment building, reading and rereading the message.
IFYOUWOULDPREFERTHATMR . JUSTISDIDNOTSEETHESEPHOTOS , YOUWILLSTOPMAKINGINQUIRIESABOUTME . IDONOTAPPRECIATETHEINTERFERENCEINMYBUSINESS .
After having read the message through at least four times, Guinevere unwrapped the black-and-white photos with a sense of dread. She was not surprised when she saw the crude shots of herself lying naked in Rick Overstreet’s arms. No, she was not surprised, but she was suddenly physically sick.
Stuffing the photos and the message back into the envelope, Guinevere ran up the two flights of stairs and stabbed her key into her lock. It took several tries before she could control her shaking hand long enough to get the door open. Her breath was coming in tight gasps and her stomach threatened to rebel. She was damp with perspiration. Blindly she groped her way down the hall to the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub, waiting to see if she was going to lose her
“Nothing special. I stopped by the market on the way home from work and spotted a great buy on salmon, so I got some for us. Ready?”
“I’m ready.”
She continued to chatter throughout dinner. Zac let her, content to eat the beautifully poached salmon and listen to Guinevere’s conversation. The truth was, most of the time he liked listening to her talk. She had a talent for soothing him or teasing him or nagging him or arguing with him that was very satisfying. Zac had a feeling he could listen to her for the rest of his life, merely taking steps to close her mouth when he was ready to take her to bed. Maybe not even then. He liked the small, passionate sounds she made in bed. But there was no getting around the fact that her conversation tonight contained a thread of tension. Zac waited. He was a patient man, and he’d always been good at waiting when it was necessary.
After dinner Guinevere sat back in her chair and drained the last of her wine. “That,” she announced, “was terrific salmon, even if I do say so myself.”
“It was,” Zac agreed, smiling at her. “And this kitchen will smell of fish tomorrow if I don’t empty your garbage for you tonight. I’ll take care of it while you start the dishes.”
“Why do I always get to start the dishes while you empty the trash? There’s a male-chauvinist pattern developing in this household, Zac Justis.” But she got to her feet and began rinsing dishes under the faucet.
“Some things are biologically preordained,” Zac explained as he hauled the garbage out from under the sink. “Women have evolved with a certain innate ability to do dishes, and men seem to have gotten stuck with a talent for emptying garbage. I suppose it’s all fair enough, when you consider the great cosmic scheme of things. Be back in a minute.”
He opened a drawer and found a twist tie for the garbage sack and headed for the front door. The building’s garbage chute was located near the stairs in the outside hall. Standing before the metal panel that opened onto the chute, Zac caught the stale cigarette smell as he started to twist the tie around the plastic bag.
He stood still for a moment, thinking. Then he calmly opened the bag and glanced inside. He found the damp cigarette butt under the paper that had been used to wrap the salmon. Zac stared at it for a moment and then twisted the bag closed and dumped it down the chute. He would be patient.
***
The damning photos arrived in Guinevere’s mail the following day.
She had decided to go back to the apartment before returning to the office after lunch, and her mail had already arrived. The lack of a return address in the upper left-hand corner made her curious about the plain manila envelope. She tore it open with an inexplicable sense of urgency. The message was as straightforward as the one Sally Evenson had received. It also appeared to have been typed on the same typewriter. Madame Zoltana had been busy.
Guinevere stood in the hall of her apartment building, reading and rereading the message.
IFYOUWOULDPREFERTHATMR . JUSTISDIDNOTSEETHESEPHOTOS , YOUWILLSTOPMAKINGINQUIRIESABOUTME . IDONOTAPPRECIATETHEINTERFERENCEINMYBUSINESS .
After having read the message through at least four times, Guinevere unwrapped the black-and-white photos with a sense of dread. She was not surprised when she saw the crude shots of herself lying naked in Rick Overstreet’s arms. No, she was not surprised, but she was suddenly physically sick.
Stuffing the photos and the message back into the envelope, Guinevere ran up the two flights of stairs and stabbed her key into her lock. It took several tries before she could control her shaking hand long enough to get the door open. Her breath was coming in tight gasps and her stomach threatened to rebel. She was damp with perspiration. Blindly she groped her way down the hall to the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub, waiting to see if she was going to lose her
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