dragging his hand painfully downward from forehead to chin. He checked his palm to see if his face was there.
“I’ll join you in Solarville tomorrow,” Edwina said, which didn’t surprise Carver. “When we find Willis, we’ll get to the truth about the money.” She smoothed the material of her gray tailored suit. “I have a business appointment today.”
A business appointment. There it was. Carver saw into her then, saw the way the past few years must have been for her. She was using her work as a shield, probably had been since the end of the jinxed marriage Alice Hargrove had mentioned. It had been effective; Carver knew from experience how work could blunt the pain. Business, keeping ceaselessly busy, could fill the void, absorb the wild energy of volatile depression.
“You shouldn’t go to Solarville,” Carver told Edwina. “That’s why you hired me, to sniff around and get my nose dirty.”
“Phone me at home tonight,” she said. “Let me know where you’re staying and what you’ve learned. I’ll decide whether I’ll join you, when that will be.”
Carver shrugged and nodded. Those were the rules. She was the boss, he was the bird dog. He could overlook her tough act. Everybody who was tough had an act, some better than others.
When she turned to open her car door, he gripped her upper arm, then held it gently.
She looked up at him. She began to cry again and tried to whirl her body away from him. He tightened his grip on her arm, pulled her to him. He would look at her tears, make her blend with reality. It was impossible to be a romantic in today’s world; didn’t she know that?
For a moment she clung to him; he could feel the heat of her body, vibrating against him. He wanted to comfort her, reassure her. With lies, if necessary. Especially with lies. He raised a hand and caressed her hair where the sun touched it; he felt her grasping fingers feel their way down his back, nails sharp and urgent through his shirt.
Then she pulled away, stood up straight, and briskly smoothed her suit again. Her business suit.
Her gray eyes were cool. This hadn’t happened, they said. That woman hadn’t really been Edwina Talbot. Two strangers in another dimension had momentarily felt something that bore no relevance to here and now.
He stepped back, silently agreeing with the eyes, which didn’t quite meet his. The hell with this. He was afraid. He didn’t want this any more than Edwina did. Too soon. Too soon after Laura. He remembered the legalese and pain.
“I’ll be waiting for your call,” she said crisply, and ducked into her car, swiveling gracefully on the seat before pulling the door closed. The pale turn of her ankle below the gray of her skirt was breathtaking.
The Mercedes’ tires spun and caught hold. Gravel pounded against the insides of the fenders; a few small stones flew free and bounced off Carver’s shoes.
Edwina didn’t look back at him as she wheeled the car to the driveway, then out onto the highway.
Carver leaned on his cane in the sultry heat and watched her drive away, pondering the mystery of her. He wondered if part of her appeal might be that hidden chamber of her life, and the fact that she might be manipulating him. He was always one for puzzles.
He felt like following her, but he didn’t. Instead he went home and packed.
CHAPTER 11
I T WAS EARLY EVENING when Carver reached Solarville. The flat terrain and endless orange groves of central Florida, geometrically sectioned by flat, dusty roads, had given way to lusher, more tropical country as he neared the northern edge of the Everglades. He exited from the main highway when he saw the sign signaling the turnoff for Solarville and several other small towns. After following a tree-lined side road for ten miles, he turned south on another road and found himself on Solarville’s main street, Loop Avenue.
The town was larger than Carver had imagined; a sign proclaimed that the population was over four
“I’ll join you in Solarville tomorrow,” Edwina said, which didn’t surprise Carver. “When we find Willis, we’ll get to the truth about the money.” She smoothed the material of her gray tailored suit. “I have a business appointment today.”
A business appointment. There it was. Carver saw into her then, saw the way the past few years must have been for her. She was using her work as a shield, probably had been since the end of the jinxed marriage Alice Hargrove had mentioned. It had been effective; Carver knew from experience how work could blunt the pain. Business, keeping ceaselessly busy, could fill the void, absorb the wild energy of volatile depression.
“You shouldn’t go to Solarville,” Carver told Edwina. “That’s why you hired me, to sniff around and get my nose dirty.”
“Phone me at home tonight,” she said. “Let me know where you’re staying and what you’ve learned. I’ll decide whether I’ll join you, when that will be.”
Carver shrugged and nodded. Those were the rules. She was the boss, he was the bird dog. He could overlook her tough act. Everybody who was tough had an act, some better than others.
When she turned to open her car door, he gripped her upper arm, then held it gently.
She looked up at him. She began to cry again and tried to whirl her body away from him. He tightened his grip on her arm, pulled her to him. He would look at her tears, make her blend with reality. It was impossible to be a romantic in today’s world; didn’t she know that?
For a moment she clung to him; he could feel the heat of her body, vibrating against him. He wanted to comfort her, reassure her. With lies, if necessary. Especially with lies. He raised a hand and caressed her hair where the sun touched it; he felt her grasping fingers feel their way down his back, nails sharp and urgent through his shirt.
Then she pulled away, stood up straight, and briskly smoothed her suit again. Her business suit.
Her gray eyes were cool. This hadn’t happened, they said. That woman hadn’t really been Edwina Talbot. Two strangers in another dimension had momentarily felt something that bore no relevance to here and now.
He stepped back, silently agreeing with the eyes, which didn’t quite meet his. The hell with this. He was afraid. He didn’t want this any more than Edwina did. Too soon. Too soon after Laura. He remembered the legalese and pain.
“I’ll be waiting for your call,” she said crisply, and ducked into her car, swiveling gracefully on the seat before pulling the door closed. The pale turn of her ankle below the gray of her skirt was breathtaking.
The Mercedes’ tires spun and caught hold. Gravel pounded against the insides of the fenders; a few small stones flew free and bounced off Carver’s shoes.
Edwina didn’t look back at him as she wheeled the car to the driveway, then out onto the highway.
Carver leaned on his cane in the sultry heat and watched her drive away, pondering the mystery of her. He wondered if part of her appeal might be that hidden chamber of her life, and the fact that she might be manipulating him. He was always one for puzzles.
He felt like following her, but he didn’t. Instead he went home and packed.
CHAPTER 11
I T WAS EARLY EVENING when Carver reached Solarville. The flat terrain and endless orange groves of central Florida, geometrically sectioned by flat, dusty roads, had given way to lusher, more tropical country as he neared the northern edge of the Everglades. He exited from the main highway when he saw the sign signaling the turnoff for Solarville and several other small towns. After following a tree-lined side road for ten miles, he turned south on another road and found himself on Solarville’s main street, Loop Avenue.
The town was larger than Carver had imagined; a sign proclaimed that the population was over four
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