The Whispering Room

Outside, the palm trees were like shadows against the soft violet of the city sky. A few stars twinkled out, but the moon was obscured by a bank of clouds moving in from the gulf.

She glanced up at Nash. He was staring out, too, his face calm and pensive.

“You wanted me to find out about him, didn’t you?”

For a moment, he looked caught. Then his gaze went back to the darkness outside the window.

“Are you surprised I’d figured that out?”

“No, not really.”

“Why did you come to the crime scene that day when you already knew you were going to have me removed from the case? You didn’t even bother disguising the fact that you were the one pulling the strings.”

They were so close she could smell his aftershave, could feel his breath warm against her face. Evangeline shivered, both in dread and anticipation because he had denied none of her accusations.

“You wanted me to see those files.”

“I wanted you to stop asking questions about Johnny.”

A silence fell between them.

“Do you want me to go?” Nash finally asked.

Evangeline shivered as she stared out into the night. She felt his hand on her neck, in her hair and something gave way inside her.

She closed her eyes and told herself this wasn’t a betrayal. Johnny was dead. And before he died, he’d betrayed her. Maybe not with a woman, but in a way that hurt her every bit as much as infidelity. Maybe more.

Nash was watching her, and his eyes darkened as she reached up to touch his cheek, to trace the strong contour of his jaw with her fingertip, to outline his mouth with the pad of her thumb.

He didn’t move, even when she wound her fingers around his neck, but his eyes dared her to forget.

She pulled him toward her and they kissed.

Evangeline couldn’t stop trembling. She hadn’t been with another man since Johnny. Abstinence had never been a conscious decision, but her grief had allowed no room for any other emotion. Now it was as if a fragile dam had broken and a pent-up need rushed out of her.

She tugged at Nash’s clothes; ran her hands up and down his hard body; opened her mouth and deepened the kiss.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said against her neck. “You’ve been driving me crazy since the first day I met you. And I swore I’d never let another woman do that to me.”

“You mean this?”

She jerked his shirt apart and the buttons went flying.

He laughed softly against her mouth.

They shed clothes all the way to the bedroom, and when they fell back against the mattress, Evangeline didn’t bother crawling underneath the cover. She lay naked on top of the quilt, watching him. Not caring that he watched her right back, not caring that he was seeing her in a way that no man but one had seen her in years.

A little while later, they got up and showered together, and afterward Nash brought Evangeline a glass of wine. She sipped it in bed while she watched him knot his tie in the mirror.

He looked amused by her scrutiny. “What?”

“Do you even own a pair of jeans?”

“That’s an odd question to ask at a time like this.”

“It seems the perfect time to ask.” She studied him over the rim of her glass. “I really don’t know anything about you.”

His gaze met hers in the mirror. “That’s not exactly true.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Okay. I do own a couple of pairs of jeans. I even wear them once in a while. Never at work, though.”

“Are you implying this is work?”

“Hardly.” He turned from the mirror and came back over to the bed. Placing one hand on either side of her, he leaned down and kissed her. “This is what I call incredible.”

“It is. Was.” But self-doubt filled Evangeline and she was glad when he straightened and moved away.

The phone rang, but she decided to let the machine pick up in the other room. After her recorded message, she heard only silence and, after a moment, the soft click that severed the connection.

Her glance darted to Nash. His reflection stared back at her, and she remembered what she’d told him earlier about hang-up calls. She always imagined that Johnny was on the other end of the line.

He reached for his jacket. “I should get going. I need to put in a few more hours at the office tonight.” He turned with an apologetic smile. “I’m terrible at this. I’ve been married to my job for so long, I make lousy company.”

Evangeline drew up her legs under the cover and rested the wineglass on her knee. “I’m not so great at it, either.”

He came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m no good at relationships, Evangeline. I’ve got two failed marriages to prove it.”

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“I just want you to know what you’re getting into.”

“Who says I’m getting into anything? Tonight was great, but it was just one night.” She paused. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He took the wineglass from her hand and set it on the nightstand, then draped an arm over her knees. “This may sound corny and totally insincere considering how long I’ve known you, but tonight meant something to me.”