“Yep!” she said hoarsely, then cleared her throat. “I’m here.”
But really, how was that possible? How could her life have brought herhere?
She was isolated Remy Reed of the tiny cottage on Islehaven, who made sculptures and rarely saw humans. Yet she was currently entering the mansion of this larger-than-life man and following him toward his kitchen, where he was asking what he could get her to eat or drink.
She set aside her purse and accepted a glass bottle of Perrier. Valiantly, she tried to ignore how simply, honestlygoodit felt to be near him again. No one else around. Just him and her.
Remy liked to think that she had the ability to view herself objectively. For example, she understood that she possessed an unusual ability to fixate on things. A topic, an idea concerning her art, a book, a project. If it caught her fancy, she’d become highly curious and highly invested in that thing. And whatever she felt toward it, she’d feelfervently. To the point that it could be hard for her to understand when others didn’t see/think/feel the same way about it that she did.
She’d gotten herself into a predicament because Jeremiah had caught her fancy. Remy could sense her enormous capacity for curiosity and investment tipping toward him. And when that happened, it could be difficult for her to disengage, keep her head, and make the moderate choice.
She was, after all, the person who had to set timers when working so she’d remember to eat. It was of the utmost importance that she exercise restraint with Jeremiah.
“I had a memory,” he said.
“What? Tell me everything.”
He relayed the memory. They talked it over, then discussed his appointments in Augusta, and the progress of Project Wendell and the search for Marisol.
When their dynamic began to feel a little too intimate, she polished off her Perrier and announced it was time to get down to the business of the night—working on the timeline of Alexis’s final two weeks.
He provided his notes. She took the liberty of creating a rainbow of papers on the living room floor and they sat side by side in the center of the rainbow.
They looked up the addresses of every place Alexis had gone. They noted gaps of time that she hadn’t filled with activity. They tried to confirm the identities of the people listed in her calendar using the input Jude had given Jeremiah regarding Jeremiah’s phone contacts. That method only helped them figure out who about a third of the people were.
“It’s not like you can call Alexis’s sister”—Remy tapped the nameFrancescaon one of the papers—“and ask her about the last time she talked with Alexis without actually remembering Francesca yourself. As mentioned the other day, you're going to need help.”
“I agree.”
“Wait. Did you justagreewith something I said?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’s a first.” Their eyes met and held. Illumination from the nearby lamp glimmered in the strands of his hair.
“I . . .” Her pulse sped up. “What was I saying?”
“I don’t remember.” His eyes went smoky.
Her hormones heated to a boil.
“Are you experiencing this sexual tension between us?” he asked bluntly.
“Nope.” But the word came out thready.
“Because I am. Big time.”
“I’m sure it’s a passing thing. Hang on five minutes and it’ll be gone.”
“I don’t think so. For me this has been going on for days and days.”
She pushed one finger at a time toward her palm. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about. Let’s get back to brainstorming—”
“I want to kiss you.” He said it just like that. So simple and so complicated. So plain and so powerful.
Her skin rushed and desire curved hot in her abdomen. She should leave right this minute. Instead, she rose up onto her knees.
Fast and coordinated as a panther, he rose to his knees, too. Now they were facing each other, him gazing down at her.
