Conflict of Interest - By Allyson Lindt Page 0,13
hers and lingered a few seconds when he took the jacket, sending a pleasant chill across her skin. He hopped out of the car, opened the back door, and hung her top from a hook before closing everything up again.
A few seconds later, her door swung open. He was on the other side, holding out his hand. “Coming?”
She accepted the offer, his rough palm gentle against hers, and landed in the dirt next to him. A cloud of dust floated around her feet, and she sighed. The rocks would be murder on her heels. She grabbed her sneakers and dropped them on the ground. She slipped out of one heel and dipped her toes into the running shoe. As she started to tilt, she realized she was rapidly losing her balance.
“Watch it.” His arm wrapped around her waist.
Her hand flew to his shoulder out of instinct. His sturdy grip was hot and enticing, holding her up, and he smelled faintly of aftershave. Sunlight warmed her cheeks, and for a moment all she felt was him pressed against her.
She swallowed and straightened up. “Sorry, I’m not usually a klutz.”
“No worries.” His voice was thick. His hand lingered on her hip.
She used him for balance—at least that’s what she tried to tell herself—reluctantly pulling away when she finished changing her shoes. Sneakers, stockings, and a sleeveless silk blouse; she was glad no one else could see how ridiculous she looked. “I still don’t know what we’re doing.”
He headed toward the water, talking over his shoulder. “I’m working. I assume you’re trying to find out why I’m a fuckup and planning to tell me how to fix it.”
Her brow furrowed, and she quickened her pace to keep up with him. So much for him being a willing participant. “Then tell me about yourself.”
He stopped several yards back from the water and dropped his duffel bag on the sand. Maybe sand wasn’t the right word. It was gritty, but unrecognizable patches of green and brown dotted the entire landscape. “I like long walks on the beach, the company of a gorgeous woman who can hold her own in a conversation, and hot wax. Or candles, something like that.”
Candle wax? She inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, momentarily distracted. “Not what I meant.”
He pulled a camera and lens from the bag and hooked them together. The screen on the back of the camera flickered on, reflecting a miniature version of the lake. “Then you should have asked what you meant.” There was no irritation in his voice. He moved closer to her, arm brushing hers, and held the camera in front of her. “What do you see?”
It took focus not to lean into the contact. “A lot of water?” She didn’t know what she was supposed to be seeing. Other states had scenic lake fronts, but this was just a bunch of gray and blue that stretched into haze.
She made a conscious effort not to rest her head against his shoulder. They were working. “What did you do—not what’s in the information you sent me—that pissed off this board member of yours?”
He pursed his lips and angled toward the island in the distance. He snapped a few shots before shifting position again. “A lot of water. Nice.” He changed the view screen so it displayed one of the shots he’d just taken and showed it to her.
He’d captured an angle of Saltair so the clouds drifted behind and around it, the sunlight striking the gold towers and gleaming, making the entire thing look like it was surrounded by mist and on fire. It was just a trick of light, but it was amazing. She looked between the building and the photo. “How did you do that?”
He shrugged, shouldered the bag, and started walking again, camera hanging from a strap around his wrist. “It’s all about perspective. His last wife—number three maybe—tried to pick me up at a party a couple of years ago.”
Why didn’t the casual way he confessed surprise her? “A couple of years?” She gazed at their surroundings as they strolled along the sand. In the distance, a pair of gutted and vandalized buildings loomed against an otherwise barren landscape. “Were you working with him then?”
“Nope. He bought in about a year later.”
“So what makes you think he still holds it against you?” The arrogance was both intriguing and confounding. “You can’t be the only guy she did that with. And if he blamed you for the breakup, why would he invest in your