“We’d need to refine it.” And he’d want to walk it off, judge the timing. “It’s a good backup. Hopefully, between Sherrilyn and the cops, they’ll put together enough to pull him in and pressure him.”
“I like the idea of huddling in a secret passage, with my lover.” She wrapped her arms around him. “Preparing to ambush a cold-blooded killer. It’s like a scene from a romantic thriller.”
“Just don’t sneeze.”
“As if. And speaking of scenes from a book . . .”
“Yeah, a deal’s a deal. I’ll pick one. Let me think about it.”
“Fair enough. Now about that tie.”
“You’re serious about that?”
“Deadly. You can go pick one while I run those wet clothes I completely forgot about through the wash. Then I can look at those files while you do the dishes. Barbie will need her bedtime walk by then.”
“You’ve got it all figured out.”
“I do try.” She kissed him, one cheek, then the other. “One tie,” she repeated, and tugged him back inside.
More reluctant than he’d expected, he went upstairs, pulled his tie rack out of the closet.
He liked his ties. It wasn’t as if he had an emotional attachment, but he liked having a variety. Choices.
Which still didn’t explain why he’d brought them all to the beach, especially when he’d worn a tie a spare handful of times in the last six months.
Okay, maybe a slight emotional attachment. He’d won court cases in these ties, and lost a few. He’d selected one every day of his working life. Had loosened them during late nights at the office. Knotted and unknotted them countless times.
In another life, he admitted.
He reached for one—blue and gray stripes—changed his mind, lifted a maroon with a muted paisley pattern. Changed it yet again.
“Oh hell.”
He shut his eyes, reached down and grabbed one blind.
It just had to be a freaking Hermès.
“Done.”
It actually hurt to carry it away from the others. To offset the downer, he swung into his office.
She’d tell him it was good, he thought as he tried to decide what scene to give her. She’d lie.
He didn’t want her to lie. He wanted it to be good.
Oddly, he realized that he knew just the scene for her to read—one where he could use her feedback.
He scrolled through his manuscript, found the pages. Before he could change his mind, he printed them out.
“Don’t be a pussy,” he ordered himself, and took them and the tie downstairs.
She sat at the counter, one bare foot rubbing the flank of the dog that sprawled on the floor. And wore glasses with bold orange frames.
“You wear glasses.”
She pulled them off like a dirty little secret. “Sometimes, for reading. Especially when the print’s small. Some of this is really small.”
“Put them back on.”
“I’m vain. I can’t help it.”
He set the pages aside, took the glasses, slid them back on her nose. “You look cute.”
“I thought going for punchy frames would make a difference, but I’m still vain, and still hate wearing them. Just for reading sometimes, and sometimes when I’m making jewelry.”
“The things you learn. Really cute.”
She rolled her eyes behind the lenses, then took the glasses off again when she spotted the tie. “Nice,” she said, taking it from him. Then wiggled her eyebrows when she saw the label. “Hermès. Very nice. The ladies at the consignment shop are going to be very pleased.”
“Consignment shop?”
“I can’t just toss it. Somebody can use it.”
He looked at it as she hopped up to tuck it into her bag. “Can I buy it back?”
With a laugh, she shook her head. “You won’t miss it. Is that for me?” She gestured toward the printout.
“Yeah. One scene, it’s just a couple of pages. I figured I’d get it all over with at once. Like ripping off a bandage.”
“It’s not going to hurt.”
“It already does. I don’t want you to lie to me.”
“Why would I lie to you?”
He snatched up the pages as she reached for them. “You’re a born nurturer, and you’re sleeping with me. It goes against the grain for you to hurt anyone’s feelings. You won’t hurt my feelings. And that’s a lie. But I need to know if it works, or if it doesn’t, even if it hurts.”
“I won’t lie to you.” She wiggled her fingers for the pages. “Take your mind off what I’m doing and load the dishwasher.”
She propped her feet on the second stool and, since they were right there, put on her glasses. After peering at him over the pages,