Page 51 of Evidence of Deceit

She thought she heard Joe groan too—probably her imagination. They finished the pie and cleared the dishes in comfortable silence. Joe offered her coffee, and they took their cups into the living room. A slow song, one of her favorites, was playing in the background.

He took her hand. “Dance with me.”

Claire placed her right hand into his and put her left arm on his shoulder. He placed his arm around her waist.Oh my.They swayed to the music. He twirled her and then pulled her in tighter. Chest to chest. She wrapped her arms around hisneck. Snuggled her head into his chest. She inhaled his clean, fresh smell. They swayed some more, the wine making her feel mellow, the warmth of his arms providing safety. Could they stay like this forever? She could only hope.

The song ended, and it was a minute before he released her. She looked into his dark blue eyes, saw the want. He leaned over and kissed her lips gently, then slipped his tongue between her lips. Gently caressing her tongue, her mouth, he tasted of apple pie and ice cream. She held him tighter and kissed him back.

Joe rubbed her back and softly kissed her shoulder. A moan escaped from her lips, and she wanted more. She started to pull up his T-shirt.

Joe pulled back. Left her standing there, cold and bereft. He looked at her with sadness and hunger in his eyes. “Oh, baby, stop.”

Stop? No. “Why?”

He closed his eyes and opened them, exhaled deeply. “Because you’re newly widowed. Because you need to find yourself. Because I’m not good for you. Because…”

Claire placed her fingers on his mouth. “None of that is true. I want you. Doesn’t that count?”

Joe groaned. “It does, but this isn’t the time. We’ll regret going so fast.” He stepped away from her. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

No, I don’t want to go. I want to make love with you. Stay with you forever.He was standing rigidly, clenching his hands at his side. Claire wanted to step in to hold and kiss him again, but now wasn’t the time.

“I drove here, remember?”

He glared at her. “Smart-ass. I’ll follow you home then.”

“Not necessary. I’m a big girl. I can get myself home.”

“You can, no doubt. But I’m still following you,” he said as he lifted her face to his, gave her a sweet kiss on her forehead.Kept his lips there a little too long before he pulled away. “Come on, now. Get your things.”

She gathered her jacket and purse and followed Joe out. He locked the door behind her.

“Claire.”

She turned around. “Yes.”

He looked so handsome standing there. But his chest was heaving, and he strained to talk. “Claire, this is not over. I want you, but the time has to be right.”

It will be, Joe. Soon.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The motel room had seen better days. Hillary dropped her carry-on onto the faded bedspread. Paisley—that was so the sixties. But then again, the cheap room was all she could afford right now. It had a lingering smell of fried food, probably from the diner next door. She looked around the small room. It wasn’t much, but it looked clean. There was a bathroom with a shower one-third the size of the shower in her small apartment. It would do. There was the double bed with the faded comforter. God only knew what shape the sheets were in. Ugh, not something she wanted to think about. They weren’t the eight-hundred-count Egyptian cotton like she had in New York, but as long as they were clean, they’d do. A single worn chair kept vigil in the corner, with a pole lamp behind it, and then there was the TV—a brand-new smart TV. Whoever owned the motel thought they had their priorities straight.

She didn’t bother unpacking; she wouldn’t be here for more than a week. Just enough time to start Claire’s harassment. She wanted to embarrass Claire like she had been embarrassed. Wanted her to feel the pain of failure.

Her new position only allowed her to take this week off, so she needed to be smart about what she was going to do in Florida. Then she would fly down only on the weekends, although that would stretch her thin budget. Hopefully, her plan wouldn’t take more than a month.

First things first, she unpacked the computer Keith had left at the condo. She’d taken it with her when she moved, and it was a treasure trove of information. He’d never given her the password, but she hadn’t needed him to. Giving him a blowjob, then nuzzling his neck while he worked, gave her easy access to his password. Stupid man.

Settling in the chair, she put in a call to a man who had done some work for Keith. Not that Keith ever told her everything, but she knew enough to know that the man wasn’t an upstanding citizen. Just what she needed. If he’d been surprised to hear from her, after giving him Keith’s name and how much she would pay, he was more than receptive.

She sat back in the chair and smiled. Finally, things were going to go in her favor. Claire would learn that having Keith die was the least of her problems.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Claire stepped out of the gallery into the crisp autumn air and pulled her sweater tighter. The weather in Florida in the late fall could be hot one day and cold another. The sun was popping in and out of dark clouds. She sniffed the air. Rain was coming. The sidewalks were crowded as people scurried about doing chores, shopping or eating lunch. She walked across the street toward the little deli around the corner for lunch.

She felt a tingling at the base of her neck like someone was watching her. Weird. She’d felt uncomfortable for the past couple of weeks. And strange things were happening. Hang-up calls at the gallery; emails asking her to call, but no one answered, little gifts left at her desk with no name on them. Her co-worker, Martha, suggested it was either a suitor or prankster but probably nothing to worry about. Claire tried not to think about it, but it was unsettling. Still, she hadn’t wanted to tell Joe or Sam because it was just random things.

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