Every Last Secret - A.R. Torre Page 0,28

He’s obviously head over heels for you. What are you concerned about?” I kept my tone light, hoping not to offend her and genuinely interested in her response.

“I’m not worried about Matt. I was watching out for you. Are you telling me that William hasn’t ever looked at another woman?” She shot a dirty look toward a blonde mother of four who turned onto her stomach two cabanas over.

I fought to ignore the bristle of irritation that ran up my spine. “William is loyal, always has been. You don’t need to watch my husband for me.”

She gave me a sharp look. “Cat, there’s nothing wrong with having an awareness of potential risks. If you tempt fate long enough, something will happen. It’s a biological fact that . . .”

I took a sip of my juice and tuned her out, biting off the urge to tell her what I thought of her opinions. She certainly had a lot of them. Maybe that’s what a life coach was. Someone paid to dish out opinions about every part of your, well, life. And, according to the whispers I’d heard, that’s what she really was. A life coach–slash–admin assistant who had somehow jumped the fence into corporate territory and greatly inflated her prices with the transition and title change.

I watched as Matt approached and wondered if she was as motivating with our Winthorpe Tech team as she was with him. Matt certainly seemed happy, his eyes glued to her large breasts as he skirted around the end of a chaise lounge and climbed the steps to our cabana. No side glances at Terri Ingel, who was slowly performing the backstroke through the heated water. No quick smile to the nineteen-year-old lifeguard.

He entered the cabana, and Neena snapped her fingers, then pointed to the empty lounger as if instructing a dog.

He sat.

I glanced at Neena to see her response, but her attention was on the other end of the pool. I followed it and found William, who was tugging off his shirt and wading into the pool, his abs well defined as he moved into the water.

“I think you’re right,” I said, setting my empty glass beside me on the table. “There’s no point in tempting fate. Not if you can eliminate the potential risks.”

CHAPTER 13

NEENA

A week later, I squeezed through the Winthorpes’ bushes at their thinnest point, jogged across their beach-pebble border, around the perfect planters, and hit their driveway at a run. Sprinting up the side steps, I unlatched the courtyard door, moved into the small garden, and breezed past the hibiscus blooms and bench. My first time in the space, I had inwardly burned at the arched openings, the water feature that cascaded down the far wall, the white brick floor. Our side entrance had a broken screen door and a pot of geraniums that hid an extra key. I’d been meaning to change the locks to one like Cat’s, a touch keypad that had a camera, held a hundred combinations, and could be remotely locked and unlocked from her phone. All useless, considering her remarks that she never locked her doors.

I’d tucked away that tidbit for later. One day. Someday. I pressed the doorbell and knocked urgently on the glass window of the door. Waiting, I looked down at the monogrammed “William & Cat” mat, then wiped my shoes on it, right on top of Cat’s name.

I was growing closer to both William and her, my patience almost ragged from the tap-dance routine that it took to arrange casual get-togethers. Still, I was getting there. I’d finagled our double dinner date, last weekend’s pool day, and yesterday, a private brunch with just Cat and me. It had gone well. She’d laughed at my jokes, empathized with my early struggles, and seemed interested in becoming friends. I had big plans to use that naivete to my advantage.

“Neena?” Cat opened the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Sort of.” I wrung my hands together. “Can I borrow William really quickly? There’s a bird in the house.”

“A bird?” Cat gave me a blank look. “Can’t you just shoo him out?”

William appeared in the doorway behind Cat. “Morning.”

Damn, he sounded good. Husky. The kind of voice that could be on whiskey ads or staff a 900 number. I smiled at him, then quickly pinched my features into a worried frown. “Can you come over real quick? There’s this bird—it’s terrifying.”

“Of course.” He turned away. “Come on in. I’ll put some shoes on.”

Cat stepped back, opening the door. “William,”