Wes swore from above her. “Stay still,” he said.
As he pulled up the mannequins, Nadine saw a small box under the skirts. “Hold on,” she said, reaching under the layers of embroidered white silk. She fished out the varnished wooden box as Wes inched the second mannequin back in place.
“I saw that when we were searching for the cat and thought it was part of the base,” he said. “Good eye.”
Nadine accepted the compliment with a nod and opened the box. Inside was a single piece of newsprint, and her first instinct was to cry. Another clipping. How many more were in this house?
Then she picked it up to give it a quick scan.Blackmail attempt by former senator stafferwas the headline. It was written by aHeraldstaff reporter.
A former staffer attempted to blackmail Senator John Wilson, said the senator’s office today. Monica Olway threatened to discredit Senator Wilson with allegations of financial and professional misconduct after she was fired with cause from her position last week. Olway told the senator she wanted a new job and compensation or she would release private and, according to the senator’s office, falsified information.
Senator John Wilson said he was shocked at Olway’s blackmail threat. “As a public figure, my integrity is my shield,” he said. “I have nothing to hide. This is part of a targeted harassment campaign, and I will defend myself with vigor.”
“She lied on her résumé,” said a source in the senator’s office. “God knows what else she lies about.”
“John Wilson. A politician. A potentialscandal.” Wes tapped his lip. “Wait. InThirty Pieces, the bad guy was James Walton.JW.The initials.”
She jumped up, holding the scrap in the air. “We have something!”
“We do.” Wes grabbed Nadine by the waist, lifting her and spinning her around. “Incredible find,” he breathed as he put her back down. “God, I love you.”
Nadine froze. “What?”
***
Nadine’s eyes were comically huge, and then as if to underscore the severity of Wes’s fuckup in real time, thunder shook the house.
Why?
Why?
Why did he have to go and open his big mouth? Things were goingso well between them. Then he had to ruin it.
He didn’t realize he was edging away from Nadine until his back bumped against one of the mannequins, forcing him to fumble it straight, which he managed by grabbing the bust with both hands. Just spectacular.
“You what?” she repeated. She didn’t sound angry or confused. If anything, she sounded completely emotionless, and Wes couldn’t tell if that was better or worse. It only took a second’s more reflection to decide it was definitely worse.
If he was lucky, he might be able to get through this with a minimal amount of humiliation, like only five years of shame nightmares instead of a full decade. A psychologist he’d once interviewed told him someone’s feelings about him were none of his business, which Wes had found condescending and absurd, although Rebecca loved it. However, it could be reversed. He’d made his feelings Nadine’s business, and in the middle of a job. That wasn’t cool.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the words sticking in his throat. “I didn’t mean it. It was a slip of the tongue.”
Nadine’s expression didn’t change. Wes’s brain was on its fourth internal chant ofPlease say it’s okay so I can die in peace, when she finally blinked. How could any woman’s eyes be so clear? They saw right through him, and at the edge of his vision, he saw her rubbing her thumb on her hand. The thin sundress—even in the depths of his disgrace, he could kiss the person who created that style—showed the quick rise and fall of her chest.
Then she said, “Okay.”
“Okay?” he repeated.
“Sure.” She laughed like it was a great joke. “Don’t worry about it. I called Daniel ‘Dad’ once, and you wouldn’t believe the look on his face.”
Wes looked at her suspiciously, but she was already rereading the clipping about Monica Olway. Good. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it.
Nothing at all.
Twenty-nine
The next day after breakfast, they went to the library for their usual morning debrief. Nadine adjusted the strap of her sundress, which kept falling down. She wouldn’t say she’d worn it because it was the cutest dress she’d brought, but it was exhilarating to see how Wes swallowed hard every time it dropped low on her shoulder. He was wearing a very thin black V-necked T-shirt. If he’d chosen it to be as distracting as possible, that was a sly move she wouldn’t have expected of him.
Poor Wes. He’d gone almost purple the day before when he’d slipped up with the L-word, and they’d barely talked the rest of the day. However, she’d spent the night alone in bed thinking. If mistakes were on a spectrum, surely having sex with Wes was more on theoops-I-bought-the-wrong-brand-of-noodlesend rather than theI-crashed-the-carend. That meant it was okay to do again, right? If they were both willing.
