AGO, THE MERE act of looking at Gage had begun to cause Skye pain, each glance setting off an ache that pulsed beneath her breastbone, not unlike a second heart. But this beat didn’t cause blood to travel through her veins, instead offering only a cold taste of the loneliness to come. So she kept her head down now, and turned over one of the photos on the desk, rechecking the dates written in an old-fashioned hand, probably Edith’s. Maybe Max’s.
Gage’s footsteps were nearly silent on the hardwood floor, but she sensed him coming closer, walking warily as if she were a cornered animal.
He should know; he’d put her in that corner.
Being around his family while privy to things they were unaware of made her miserable. Of course, just knowing what she knew made her miserable.
Still, though it was nice to take a breather away from the rehearsal dinner, she’d planned to go back.
Because despite her growing low mood, she’d given up on distance. Instead, she continued to hold Gage’s hand when she could, kiss his mouth when possible, share his bed every night. With the sand running out of their hourglass, what other choice was there? She could deny herself his company sooner, of course, but what was the point of that, when either way the days without him stretched endlessly ahead, like the vast Pacific on its infinite journey toward the horizon?
“What did you find?” he asked, coming around the desk to look over her shoulder.
“I’m not sure.”
The fingers of one big hand stroked through her hair while the other flipped the photo back to its image side. “Edith and Max?”
She nodded.
“On the deck of Beach House No. 9,” he said.
Nodding again, she studied the pictured pair. Max, debonair in white slacks and shirt, his dark hair slicked back. Edith, in a lightweight flowered dress, was half turned to gaze into her husband’s face, her hand resting over his heart. Her devotion to him was palpable.
“I think they lived there for a while, probably to get away from the sounds of hammers and saws.” Skye tapped on the set of plans, the paper yellowed and brittle. “About the time they got out of the movie business, they added a couple of rooms to their home. My home. The one where we’ve never found the Collar.”
His hand stilled, midstroke. “What are you saying?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, then quickly looked away. So handsome. So dear to me. “If I match the date on the renovation plans to the date on the back of this photo to the date on the letter Edith wrote to Max...”
His fingers tangled in her hair, tugged. “Are you saying she may have hidden the Collar at No. 9?”
“Maybe. It seems a possibility, though whether it might still be there...” She shrugged.
He turned her then, stepping close so that she could count each of his sharp black lashes and the silver striations in his turquoise eyes. The back of his knuckles caressed her cheek. “Be honest about something else, will you?”
“What?” she whispered, his tender touch tightening her throat. His body, tall, strong and aligned with hers, made her feel small and safe at the same time. A harbor. His warmth enveloped her, his exotic scent stirring up everything female inside her. She wanted to press herself to his bare skin, rub her face along his tanned throat, nip a path down his chest. Trembling in sudden need, she dropped her forehead to his shoulder, the single point of contact enough to almost settle her jittering pulse.
“Do you want to go home now? Skip the rest of the party? I can make your excuses.”
She glanced up, surprised he was offering her an out after insisting she attend. “What makes you ask that?”
“I’ll feel like a shit if the transitory nature of...of this thing between us is making you unhappy.”
His intent gaze turned her heart over. “I thought you said we had forever if we framed it right.”
A wry smile played at one corner of his mouth. “You know I would have said anything right then. I was dying to get into your pants.”
The admission startled a laugh from her. “You’re horrible!”
“I am.” He nodded.
What was he saying? “Are you...would you rather we stop things here?”
“Hell, no! You know how selfish I am. If I have my way, I’ll be breathing you in until the very last second. But, baby...” His fingers gently combed through her hair and then he kissed her forehead, her