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Natalie arrived the next morning at seven thirty, eager to start the day. Rafe had assured her he would be gone by then, but just in case, she rang the bell at the front door and waited a couple of minutes. When there was no response, she followed the path along the side of the garage as he'd directed, where she used the code he'd given her on the keypad by the back door and stepped inside. She disabled the alarm, pressing the buttons with precision to avoid making a mistake. Her shoulders relaxed when the all-clear notice appeared.
The urge to snoop was strong, her natural curiosity heightened by Rafe's taciturn demeanor, but she was determined to do nothing that would damage the trust he'd placed—albeit reluctantly—in her. Averting her gaze from any open doors, she went straight upstairs and settled in among the boxes with her travel mug of coffee, laptop, notebook, and pens.
Hours later, she surfaced long enough to have the sandwich and apple she'd brought for her lunch, then used the bathroom he'd pointed out to her last night. She refilled her water bottle awkwardly from the low faucet, not comfortable enough to make use of the kitchen below, and buried herself back in the spare room.
At four o'clock the alarm on her phone startled her out of a perusal of the appointment diary from Eugenia's first year in office. Knowing her habit of getting lost in research, she'd set it to ensure she had plenty of time to be out of the house before Rafe returned from work. Whatever that work was. She had meant to ask him what he did for a living, but had been too enthralled by the treasures waiting to be uncovered and forgotten.
Her fingers itched to take the next box with her so she could continue at home, but didn't dare. In a week or so, once she'd proven herself trustworthy and eased his suspicions, she'd ask him to change that decree.
It felt wrong to leave without providing some sort of an update. Tearing a sheet from her notebook, she scribbled a quick message and left it on the table, tucked under a mug she'd brought to keep her pens, highlighters, and other writing paraphernalia, and then crept down the stairs, reset the alarm, and escaped outside.
––––––––
RAFE LEFT WORK ON FRIDAY evening with unexpected eagerness. His career as a pathologist at the University Hospital of Northern British Columbia was fulfilling and consuming, and it wasn't unusual for him to spend twelve or fourteen hours in his lab. But he'd arrived home on Wednesday and Thursday to breezy, cheerful notes from Natalie detailing her discoveries, and today he'd found himself watching the clock instead of losing all track of time while buried in his analyses.
He parked in the garage and stepped through the door connecting it to the main floor. He knew it was his imagination, but the atmosphere in his home seemed to have softened during the last few days. It was as if Natalie exuded molecules of joy and contentment while she worked and those molecules drifted in the air long after she left. He drew in a deep, steadying breath and felt some of that contentment ease the pressure behind his temples.
Hurrying upstairs, he entered the spare room and for the third straight day found her note tucked under the bright yellow mug with its sunflower-shaped handle. He tugged it out, repressing the ridiculous urge to lift the paper to his nose to try and catch a whiff of her scent.
Hi, Rafe!
Another good day. I'm almost done with the boxes you set out for me. If you're adamant I don't look at any before you, you'd better get a move on. :)
I'll be working on the book this weekend. Hope that’s okay with you.
Have a great evening!
Natalie
It was brisk and business-like enough—other than the smiley face she'd sketched—with absolutely nothing to warrant the heat spreading through his chest. He read it again, and then walked slowly down the hall to his office and placed it in the drawer with her earlier notes. Saving the meaningless pieces of paper was absurd, but he couldn't bring himself to toss them in recycling.
Shaking his head at his foolishness, he headed back to the lower level to prepare his solitary dinner with an unusual lightness in his step. A lightness tempered by disappointment as he wouldn't receive another note until Monday, but a lightness nonetheless.
––––––––
NATALIE HAD DEBATED whether or not she should go to Rafe's on Saturday. She assumed whatever job he had didn't involve working weekends, which meant he'd probably be home while she was there. The thought of being in such close proximity to his dark, brooding presence ruffled her nerves. Not that they'd be in the same room, and the house was plenty big enough for both of them. Still...
The thing was, she needed more data before she could begin even a sketchy draft, and with the timeline so tight she couldn't afford to lose two days. In the end, wariness of Rafe lost out to that urgency. She'd given him fair warning in her note. If he had an issue with it, he knew how to get a hold of her.
In deference to the weekend, she delayed arriving until nine. She hustled through a blustery, frigid breeze and huddled into herself as she rang the front doorbell. Shifting from foot to foot in a futile attempt to keep warm, she waited less than thirty seconds before ringing it again. When there was still no response, she hurried around the garage and through the rear door as usual. His vehicle was there—a sleek black Mercedes that sparked envy in her chest.
“Rafe?” She stepped tentatively from the back entrance into the living space, unwinding her scarf and brushing flecks of snow from her shoulders. The scent of fresh coffee hung in the air and on the kitchen island at the far side of the open concept main floor the remnants of breakfast—a small plate, a mug, and a pile of orange peels—were visible. “Rafe? Are you here?”
Nothing.
She had intended to go straight to her room, but it didn't feel right, not when she suspected he was somewhere about. Hovering, undecided, in the quiet room, she became aware of music playing in the distance.
Leaving her satchel on the sofa, she followed the drumbeats and soaring guitars of a rock classic down a hall leading behind the kitchen. The scent of chlorine, which had become so familiar over the last few days she’d forgotten about it, tickled her nostrils. A single door at the far end was the only break in the long length of barren hall. She pushed it open and stepped into warmth and humidity. The lenses of her glasses fogged up and she used the end of her scarf to clear them, the room blurry and indistinct until she replaced them on her nose.
The pool took up most of the floor space. A sleek form cut through the pale blue water, long arms stroking up and down smoothly, a flurry of bubbles revealing the motion of legs under the surface. At the far end, a dark head popped up briefly before he executed a neat forward roll.
A roll that revealed one very disturbing fact.
Raphael Talbot swam in the nude.
––––––––
SWIMMING PUT RAFE INTO a meditative state. He simply was as he swam from end to end, the motion hypnotic, the pattern of breaths and strokes so deeply ingrained he didn't have to think.
He switched from freestyle to breaststroke, gliding with the force of his kicks, lifting his head out of the water as his arms and shoulders pulled him forward. He turned at the end of the pool and started back.
Someone was standing at the door.
He came to an abrupt stop, liquid surging up his nose. Coughing and choking, he tread water and stared at the intruder.
Natalie stared back, mouth parted in a shocked O, brown eyes wide behind her glasses.
“What the hell are you doing here?” In the instant he made his demand, he remembered he was naked. It was his house. He lived alone. He always swam naked.
It didn't mean he was comfortable being found in the buff by a relative stranger.
Instead of heading for the shallow end—the end nearest Natalie—he stroked to the side, turned his hips to the wall, crossed his elbows on the edge, and glared. “Well? Why are you here?”
She still wore her heavy winter coat, a scarf draped over her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed. “I came to work. I wanted to let you know I was here. I followed the music.” Her eyes darted about the room, unable to meet his.
Great. She knew he was naked. Goddamn perfect. “It's Saturday.” He gritted the words out between clenched teeth. “Take off your coat before you faint from the heat.”
She did as instructed, keeping her face averted. “I don't have a lot of time if you want me to meet the deadline. I can't afford to waste any days. I told you I'd be here. In my note yesterday.”
I'll be working on the book this weekend. He'd read the words but thought—if he'd thought of it at all—that she meant she'd be working at her own place. That's what he got for mooning over her messages instead of paying proper attention. “I haven't had a chance to go through any more boxes. Go upstairs. I'll join you in a few minutes.” He planted his palms flat on the pool deck, elbows bent in preparation to lift him out of the water.
She didn't move.
“If you don't mind.” He lifted an eyebrow with as much arrogance as he could muster, considering he was nude and at eye level with her knees.
“Oh.” Her breath huffed out. “Of course.”
She vanished.
––––––––
NATALIE STUMBLED UP the stairs, her sock feet silent on the shiny wooden treads, and arrived in her room gasping for breath. Resisting the urge to shut the door and barricade herself in, she draped her coat neatly on the back of her chair and unloaded her satchel with precise, careful movements.
And thought of nothing but Rafe as she’d last seen him.
Rivulets of water beading on his broad shoulders. Black hair slicked to his scalp. Dark eyes hot and angry.
Though she'd caught only a brief flash of taut buttocks, her imagination had no trouble filling in the rest.
Strong thighs and slim hips and what swung between them.
She popped the lid of her water bottle and gulped down cold liquid. Rafe had assumed her flushed face was due to the heat of the pool room, but if he saw her still red and rosy, he'd know it was because of him.
Because of what she'd seen and not seen.
Enough. She had to stop thinking about it. About him. She wasn't even sure she liked him. It was just her hormones talking. Since her divorce a few years ago, she'd gone on a few dates, but no relationship had lasted long enough for her to consider having sex.
Steps sounded on the stairs and she squeezed her eyes shut to block out the image of a naked Rafe mounting them. Moments later the chunk of a door closing indicated he was in his own room and she opened her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief.
By the time he appeared in her office, she was seated at the table with a folder open, concentrating fiercely on the pages before her without absorbing a single detail. She flicked him a glance while keeping her head down. “I'm sorry for disturbing you. I thought you knew I was coming today.”
“I misunderstood your note.” His voice was low and gravelly.
Anger seemed to be missing from his tone so she risked a second glance. His hair was damp and he was now discreetly clad in a white T-shirt and jeans. Her mouth watered anyway, and she swallowed and looked away quickly.
He stepped farther into the room. “You're here now. We might as well get started.”
“We?” The word came out as a squeak and her gaze flew to him again. He had to leave. There was no way she'd get an iota of work done with him in the room.