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“Grace.”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I know you do.” She grinned to herself, having much too much fun teasing her husband.
“So you’re enjoying the latest work of Ms. Sutherlin? Sounded like it from how breathlessly you
answered the phone.”
“Love it. I slept with her editor to get an advance copy.”
Grace stood up and found an empty glass. She tucked the phone under her ear while she filled it
with water. Her little reading session had been a workout. Nora’s books left her as breathless as her
characters.
“Should I be worried that my wife is reading Nora Sutherlin’s books?”
“Why? Because she’s Nora Sutherlin the writer or because she’s Nora Sutherlin the woman you
slept with last year?”
“Can you tell me the right answer before I give my answer?”
“‘Neither’ is the right answer. You have nothing to worry about.”
“My wife is masturbating to my ex-lover’s books. Nothing good can come of this.”
“Orgasms came of it.”
“Other than that.”
“Your wife knows her husband is in love with her and is devoted to their marriage. Your wife
knows that Nora Sutherlin isn’t a threat to her marriage. And your wife knows all of this even
knowing her husband still carries a torch for Ms. Nora Sutherlin.”
“Now that’s not true at all. I adore her, yes, even if she will be the death of me someday. But the
feelings are entirely of the friendship variety. Nothing more.”
“It must be so much easier to lie to me on the phone instead of face-to-face.” Grace pulled the
covers down on the bed and slipped in.
“It is, come to mention it.”
Grace sighed as she pulled her leg to her chest and rested her chin on her knee.
“I borrowed your coat the other day. Your gray trench. Couldn’t find mine and it was raining. Stuck
my hand in the pocket and guess what I found?”
She almost laughed aloud at the sound of Zachary’s heavy guilty sigh coming from the other side of
the world.
“A black tie?”
“A black tie...that for some reason smelled of hothouse flowers. I only ever remember meeting one
person in my entire life with that scent on her. Beautiful woman with green eyes and black hair and
spectacular cleavage. Sound familiar at all?”
“Vaguely familiar.”
Grace remembered how her hand had trembled when she saw the black silk tie, smelled it. That
day she met Nora, she remembered that scent, the scent of flowers that thrived in captivity even if they
didn’t belong there.
“She put it in my pocket, and I didn’t know she’d done it. It was a joke, not some precious
souvenir.”
“And you kept it in your pocket for over a year because...?”
“You never know when you’ll need a spare tie.”