Every Breath You Take (Second Opportunities 4)

Mitchell paused, comb in hand, and frowned in disbelief as she walked behind him. that’s what you’re planning to wear while you’re doing your explaining and letting him down easily, I don’t think you’ve completely grasped the concept behind the rules we discussed.”

Kate reacted with horror, then hilarity, at his imagining she had any such intention; then she quickly lowered her eyes and slid serenely onto the chair at the dressing table opposite the sink to brush her hair. ’s that tone again,” she mused as if thinking to herself. that—yes, I think it was—the sound of a slightly jealous man who claims he would give me up without so much as a protest if I were to change my mind today at the villa.”

Briefly closing his eyes in amused resignation, Mitchell silently conceded the last verbal round to her and resumed combing his hair. ’m beginning to understand why your father wept.” The truth was the opposite—as he watched her brush her glossy red hair, he couldn’t remember ever feeling as utterly lighthearted and content as he felt at that moment. took our clothes from last night away while you were in the shower. He’ll return everything nicely pressed and brushed in a little while.”

She joined him on the balcony ten minutes later, where he was standing at the wall, looking out at the water. have to leave.”

Mitchell turned, noticed the suitcase she was carrying, and the sight of it gave him a moment’s pause before he realized she’d need it to pack her things at the villa.

The cheerful mood of a few minutes earlier turned somber as she put the garment bag on the table and walked over to him to say good-bye. you sure you don’t want me to go with you and wait in Philipsburg?” he asked, slipping his hands around her waist.

Kate rested her hands against his chest and shook her head. Beneath his white knit polo shirt, she could feel his heart beating in a slow, steady rhythm, and she drew strength from that. “I need some time alone before I see him, time to separate mentally and emotionally from us and focus on him instead. I’ll meet you at Captain Hodges Wharf, right where we got off the boat yesterday, at four o’clock.”

on how he reacts, you may end up there in a lot less than three hours after you break the news.”

I’ll use the time to separate myself from him and begin to focus on us.”

Mitchell smiled down into her green eyes, admiring her ethics and sense of fairness.

She smiled back, the breeze teasing her hair, her fingers splaying across his heart in a tender touch he was already associating with her.

She was absolutely right, Mitchell knew, about the wisdom of forgetting about ” for the next few hours. me good-bye,” he said, prepared to give her a brief, chaste kiss, but she wrapped her arms around him, molded her parted lips to his, and gave him a long, scorching kiss that made his hands flex and his fingers dig into her back.

On the beach below, Detective Childress lifted his camera and aimed it casually at the fa of the hotel; then he shifted it to the left and up, and casually snapped yet another picture of the couple on the fourth-floor balcony.

Mitchell stayed where he was, rather than walking her to the door of the suite, but his view from the balcony included the main entrance of the hotel, so he saw her a few minutes later when the doorman signaled a taxi for her and put her suitcase into the backseat. As the taxi passed below their balcony, she smiled and waved at him through the open window.

back,” he called to her, and she nodded.

The taxi made a U-turn and drove off down the private drive toward the main road, and Mitchell watched it vanish; then he turned his head toward the beach and leaned his forearms on the balcony wall, watching a cruise ship gliding slowly across the horizon. Tomorrow, he decided, he’d take Kate for a cruise aboard Zack’s boat. In a few days, Zack and Julie would arrive from Italy, and he could introduce Kate to them. He wanted to show her the house he was building on Anguilla, too—his first house, one that was being built amid a grove of palm trees on a gorgeous stretch of pristine beach with a breathtaking view of the water.

Of all the places in the world where he could have built a home, he’d chosen on a whim a tiny island in the Caribbean where a redhead with shining green eyes and a heart-stopping smile was going to douse him with a drink, delight all his senses, warm his heart, and then steal it. All of that—in less than forty-eight hours.

Chapter Twenty-five

THE DOOR TOthe state’s attorney’s office in the Richard J. Daley Center on Washington Street was closed. Outside the office, the atmosphere was unusually hushed, and Paula Moscato, Gray Elliott’s secretary, was keeping it that way by frowning at anyone who approached her desk and then pressing her finger to her lips.

Inside the office, two assistant state’s attorneys were standing at the far wall, watching Gray Elliott prepare their prize witness in the investigation of the murder of William Wyatt. The witness was seated behind Gray’s desk in his comfortable swivel chair; in front of him was a pencil and a pad of paper containing a few phrases to prompt him during the phone call he was about to make, a call that was intended to lure Mitchell Wyatt back into Cook County’s jurisdiction.

The witness’s mother was seated in front of Gray’s desk, twisting a handkerchief in her lap, her beautiful face stricken with grief over the discovery of her husband’s body, her expression dazed as she watched her son lay a trap for her husband’s killer. Lily Reardon, one of the ASA’s observing the procedure, nodded her head toward Caroline Wyatt and whispered to her colleague, “Can you imagine what it must be like to realize your husband’s killer has been your houseguest since his death?”

Jeff Cervantes shook his head. Gray doesn’t get this over with pretty quick, she looks like she’s either going to pass out or be sick.”

Gray perched his hip on a corner of his desk. you feeling all right, Billy?”

The handsome fourteen-year-old looked at him, swallowed, and nodded. He was tall, slim, and well-built for his age, and he wore his dark suit, white shirt, and patterned tie with the relaxed aura of a privileged, preppy kid who was as accustomed to wearing suits as jeans. In that respect, he was no different from what Gray had been at his age.

another drink of water while I go over this one more time, okay?”

, Mr. Elliott.”

, call me Gray. Do you think you’re up for this call?”

Despite the boy’s visible anxiety, he nodded; then he nodded again with more conviction. killed my father. I will do whatever it takes to get him here.”