“Sorry.”
“No worries.”
She saw he was holding a big paper bag in his other hand as he mopped the desktop.
The scribbled notes on the top page bled into each other.
“Oh, geez!”
“Just my thoughts,” he said, glancing at the ruined pages. “Everything’s on computer. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He glanced up as he tossed the sodden towel into a nearby trash can. “Lucky for you I’ve got a photographic memory.”
“Seriously?” That stopped her.
“No.” He offered a hint of a smile. “I wish. It would sure make things easier.”
“So you’re a liar,” she said, arching an eyebrow.
“Only when I have to be.” He opened the bag, then withdrew two sandwiches. “I was just trying to make you feel better.”
“You didn’t.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “Then go ahead: Feel bad. But in the meantime, come on, let’s eat. I don’t know about you, but as I said, I’m starved.” He cleared a spot at the far end of the table. “It’s not exactly five-star, but it’ll have to do. Tuna or BLT?”
“Tuna.” Her stomach rumbled as she unwrapped the sandwich and tried to remember the last time she’d had a meal. Cheese, crackers and a bottle of wine last night? A splash of Baileys for breakfast? Not that she’d had any time to eat, but it was little wonder that a simple deli sandwich made her mouth water and tasted divine. Even the accompanying dill pickle almost made her sigh.
Rhapsody, of course, had wandered over to the table, her nose aloft, her brown eyes soft and pleading. Kara shook her head, but she caught Tate tearing off a bit of bacon and offering it to the dog.
Rhapsody snapped the morsel into her mouth and swallowed.
“That’s a definite no-no,” she said, wiping her fingers. “Feeding from the table.”
He grinned. “You know me, always breaking the rules.”
She flashed back to him as a youth. Floppy hair and gawky build. Shy smile and teeth that seemed too big for his face; eyes, above a freckled nose, squinting against the summer sun; a boy who’d been a bit of a rebel, she’d heard, though he hadn’t held a candle to Jonas.
Tate had definitely grown into himself in his thirties. Filled out. His blue eyes appeared more intense, his hair had darkened to almost black, and peach fuzz had turned to serious beard shadow. He was more good-looking than she’d ever expected. Not that it mattered at all.
“So,” he said, “you know you have to talk to the cops.”
She’d come to the same conclusion. “Yeah. But tomorrow. I can’t face them or Aunt Faiza tonight.”
“Your aunt, too.”
“Otherwise she’ll worry. If she can’t find me in the hospital.” She sighed. “It’s complicated with her.” She thought of how Jonas had suggested that Auntie Fai was interested in her sister’s kids only because of the money attached to them. She didn’t want to think about all the difficult relationships she had with her family, so she changed the subject. “You live here alone?”
“Yeah.” He leaned back in his chair. “Just me. Considered a dog once and a cat a couple of times, but I’m gone too much.”
“Ever married?”
One side of his mouth lifted. “Thought about it once, but no.” He shook his head, dark hair glinting under the lights high overhead. “Never seemed to be the right time or the right woman.” Wadding the paper that had wrapped his sandwich, he asked, “You?”
“I figure you know all about me.” She motioned to the computer and his scribbled notes, noticed that the room, with its soaring ceilings and wall of glass, had a warmth to it she hadn’t noticed at first glance. Despite the loft’s austere walls and mishmash of furniture, there was a lived-in comfort to it, an ambiance that she found strangely inviting.
Don’t go there, Kara. Do not. It’s trouble, pure and simple.
“I only know what court records show,” Tate was saying as he opened a small bag of chips. “Most of the stuff I found on the Internet.”
“Most of the stuff on the Internet is garbage. Rumors. Opinions. Even the made-for-TV movie about that night wasn’t all that factual, just a lot of hype and innuendo.”
“You watched it?”
“Yeah.” Like once a year just to keep it real. To never forget.
As if she could.
“So you googled me?”