Dirty Lies

ANOTHER ASSIGNMENT

I jabbed at the buttons of the fancy coffeemaker. What did Skylar know about life and death and grief? She was young. A girl.

A really smart girl.

She'd lost her mother when she was a teenager, never had a father, put herself through school. When I thought about it, she was much more resilient and tougher than I was. I'd been raised with privilege and wealth, and while my situation was precarious with Bruno Castiglione, I had enough money to hide for the rest of my life. In luxury.

Skylar has always, and would always, have to fight and struggle.

Unless...

I stopped myself. The idea of caring for her had been a constant fantasy in recent days. I was old-fashioned in many ways, and thought that if I was in a relationship with a woman it was my responsibility to care for her. Not just financially, but in every way.

Everything about Skylar made me want to protect her. It was one of the reasons I wanted to run far away. What if we were together and something happened to her? What if I was unable to protect her? I couldn't bear the thought of failing her.

I was downstairs for an hour and grew surprised that she didn't follow me and press me into talking more. For most of the hour, though, I stared off into space, thinking about what she'd said.

Love in between the moments of suffering.

Taking two coffees upstairs, I found her lying on a chaise on the terrace. Her hair was wet, and her body was swathed in a big white towel, her eyes closed to the bright sun. Her phone rested on her stomach. My dick stirred just looking at her bare shoulders and legs.

"Sky."

She opened her eyes and I handed her a glass. "What's this?"

"I figured out how to make an iced coffee with that machine."

Her mouth turned up in a smile. She sat up and sipped. "Very nice. Thank you."

I reached down and stroked her cheek with the back of my fingers. The ringing of her phone broke the silence.

"Hey, Jimmy," she said, answering immediately, her voice crisp and businesslike. "Oh! Wow. Really? Whoa, shit. Where? Thanks for telling me. I'll be there as soon as I can. 'Kay, bye."

"Who's Jimmy?" I asked when she hung up.

She stood up. "Why do you care?"

"For someone who talks about peace and love and Zen, you're awfully sarcastic sometimes."

"And for someone who's going to leave, you're awfully curious about who I talk to."

"I am curious, and I do care," I said softly.

Her gaze faltered. "That was my police source. Cops found a body in the Palmira Preserve. Murder."

She sounded a little breathless. Typical reporter. I fought back a smile.

"So, I need to go. Can you drive me to my house? I need my car. I want to get to the preserve before the TV reporters."

"Why don't you just take my car?"

She shot me a baffled look. "Aren't you leaving?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm not."

"Well...what if you need your car today?"

"I won't. I'm not going anywhere. I need to write. It's not like you're going to steal my uncle's Mercedes. How long will you be gone? Six hours? Eight hours? I want you to come back here when you're done. I have a lot to think about, Skylar. We have more to talk about. Maybe we can go out to dinner tonight. Since it's Saturday, I'll try to make a reservation somewhere. Maybe on the mainland."

She grinned and hugged me.

"You left some clothes here last weekend. Let me get them for you."

She followed me inside, and I handed her a folded stack. "I washed them."

"You are amazing, you know that?" Skylar kissed me and whipped the towel off herself, tossing it on a chair. She spoke excitedly as she put on her lingerie and a long, cotton dress, ignoring the fact that I was openly checking out her gorgeous body. Maybe she'd have just a few minutes for a quick—

"Apparently a kayaker found the body. And guess what? Half his torso was eaten by an alligator."

Her words jolted me out of my sexual fantasy.

"Florida," we both said at the same time, laughing.

____