Clara's guest ro

nd buried herself in writing core engine code. It was

d day, she slammed her Mac

r suitcase, and took a car b

familiar, expensive scent of Jo Malone f

fa, wearing cashmere sweatpants, revi

ed mask slipped for a fraction of a second, revealing a flash of gen

table and walked toward her, reac

gnored my calls, didn't answer a single text. Where the hell have you been for three days, Aria

rceptible note of probing. He was

s outstretched hand. She pushed the suit

smoothly. "Helped her with the baby

r. He leaned in, aimi

uck a piece of hair behind her e

caught

rubbed the side of his nose-a nervous hab

he said, turning toward the open kitc

," sh

and walked into the

ll on Gregory's Armani suit jacket, draped c

out. She slipped her fingers

shed against a sma

It was a glass vial

lastic cap off and br

melled like spun sugar and desperation. It was the ex

iny glass vial. Her knuckles turned whit

ped the vial back into the pocke

rd her, holding out a cr

ass. She looked him

t and conversational. "What's with the

. The wine in his own glass slos

es darted up and to the left. The unive

st the fragrance counters at Saks yesterday. One of the sales girls p

ng face. Her stomach churned violently. She want

eyelashes, hiding the abs

d softly. "But it's a

ief. He took a large gulp of his wine

ed down at the moving lights of the city traffic. Her brain was alrea

er. He reached out to wrap

wine glass on the sill. "I'm exhaus

way without

elt a sudden, sharp loss of control, but he quickly brushe