Because she’d been certain she would never sleep away from home, in a hotel bed, Liz was surprised to wake to full sunlight. Not only had she slept, she realized, she’d slept like a rock for eight hours and was rested and ready to go. True, it was just a little past six, and she had no business to run, but her body was tuned to wake at that hour. A trip to Acapulco didn’t change that.
It had changed other things, she reminded herself as she stretched out in the too-big bed. Because of it, she’d become inescapably tangled in murder and smuggling. Putting the words together made her shake her head. In a movie, she might have enjoyed watching the melodrama. In a book, she’d have turned the page to read more. But in her own life, she preferred the more mundane. Liz was too practical to delude herself into believing she could distance herself from any part of the puzzle any longer. For better or worse, she was personally involved in this melodrama. That included Jonas Sharpe. The only question now was which course of action to take.
She couldn’t run. That had never been a choice. Liz had already concluded she couldn’t hide behind Moralas and his men forever. Sooner or later the man with the knife would come back, or another man more determined or more desperate. She wouldn’t escape a second time. The moment she’d looked into the safe-deposit box, she’d become a full-fledged player in the game. Which brought her back full circle to Jonas. She had no choice but to put her trust in him now. If he were to give up on his brother’s murder and return to Philadelphia she would be that much more alone. However much she might wish it otherwise, Liz needed him just as much as he needed her.
Other things had changed, she thought. Her feelings for him were even more undefined and confusing than they had started out to be. Seeing him as she had the evening before, hurt and vulnerable, had touched off more than impersonal sympathy or physical attraction. It had made her feel a kinship, and the kinship urged her to help him, not only for her own welfare, but for his. He suffered, for his brother’s loss, but also for what his brother had done. She’d loved once, and had suffered, not only because of loss but because of disillusionment.
A lifetime ago? Liz wondered. Did we ever really escape from one lifetime to another? It seemed years could pass, circumstances could change, but we carried our baggage with us through each phase. If anything, with each phase we had to carry a bit more. There was little use in thinking, she told herself as she climbed from the bed. From this point on, she had little choice but to act.
Jonas heard her the moment she got up. He’d been awake since five, restless and prowling. For over an hour he’d been racking his brain and searching his conscience for a way to ease Liz out of a situation his brother, and he himself had locked her into. He’d already thought of several ways to draw attention away from her to himself, but that wouldn’t guarantee Liz’s safety. She wouldn’t go to Houston, and he understood her feelings about endangering her daughter in any way.
As the days passed, he felt he was coming to understand her better and better. She was a loner, but only because she saw it as the safest route. She was a businesswoman, but only because she looked to her daughter’s welfare first. Inside, he thought, she was a woman with dreams on hold and love held in bondage. She had steered both toward her child and denied herself. And, Jonas added, she’d convinced herself she was content.
That was something else he understood, because until a few weeks before he had also convinced himself he was content. It was only now, after he’d had the opportunity to look at his life from a distance that he realized he had merely been drifting. Perhaps, when the outward trimmings were stripped away, he hadn’t been so different from his brother. For both of them, success had been the main target, they had simply aimed for it differently. Though Jonas had a steady job, a home of his own, there had never been an important woman. He’d put his career first. Jonas wasn’t certain he’d be able to do so again. It had taken the loss of his brother to make him realize he needed something more, something solid. Exploring the law was only a job. Winning cases was only a transitory satisfaction. Perhaps he’d known it for some time. After all, he’d bought the old house in Chadd’s Ford to give himself something permanent. When had he started thinking about sharing it?
Still, thinking about his own life didn’t solve the problem of Liz Palmer and what he was going to do with her. She couldn’t go to Houston, he thought again, but there were other places she could go until he could assure her that her life could settle back the way she wanted it. His parents were his first thought, and the quiet country home they’d retired to in Lancaster. If he could find a way to slip her out of Mexico, she would be safe there. It would even be possible to have her daughter join her. Then his conscience would ease. Jonas had no doubt that his parents would accept them both, then dote on them.
Once he’d done what he’d come to do, he could go to Lancaster himself. He’d like to see Liz there, in surroundings he was used to. He wanted time to talk with her about simple things. He wanted to hear her laugh again, as she had only once in all the days he’d known her. Once they were there, away from the ugliness, he might understand his feelings better. Perhaps by then he’d be able to analyze what had happened inside him when she’d pressed her cheek against his and had offered unconditional support.
He’d wanted to hold on to her, to just hold on and the hell with the world. There was something about her that made him think of lazy evenings on cool porches and long Sunday afternoon walks. He couldn’t say why. In Philadelphia he rarely took time for such things. Even socializing had become business. And he’d seen for himself that she never gave herself an idle hour. Why should he, a man dedicated to his work, think of lazing days away with a woman obsessed by hers?
She remained a mystery to him, and perhaps that was an answer in itself. If he thought of her too often, too deeply, it was only because while his understanding was growing, he still knew so little. If it sometimes seemed that discovering Liz Palmer was just as important as discovering his brother’s killer, it was only because they were tied together. How could he take his mind off one without taking his mind off the other? Yet when he thought of her now, he thought of her stretched out on his mother’s porch swing, safe, content and waiting for him.
Annoyed with himself, Jonas checked his watch. It was after nine on the East Coast. He’d call his office, he thought. A few legal problems might clear his mind. He’d no more than picked up the receiver when Liz came out from her bedroom.
“I didn’t know you were up,” she said, and fiddled nervously with her belt. Odd, she felt entirely different about sharing the plush little villa with him than she did her home. After all, she reasoned, at home he was paying rent.
“I thought you’d sleep longer.” He replaced the receiver again. The office could wait.
“I never sleep much past six.” Feeling awkward, she wandered to the wide picture window. “Terrific view.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I haven’t stayed in a hotel in…in years,” she finished. “When I came to Cozumel, I worked in the same hotel where I’d stayed with my parents. It was an odd feeling. So’s this.”
“No urge to change the linen or stack the towels?”
When she chuckled, some of the awkwardness slipped away. “No, not even a twinge.”
“Liz, when we’re finished with all this, when it’s behind us, will you talk to me about that part of your life?”
She turned to him, away from the window, but they both felt the distance. “When we’re finished with this, there won’t be any reason to.”
He rose and came to her. In a gesture that took her completely by surprise, he took both of her hands. He lifted one, then the other, to his lips and watched her eyes cloud. “I can’t be sure of that,” he murmured. “Can you?”
She couldn’t be sure of anything when his voice was quiet, his hands gentle. For a moment, she simply absorbed the feeling of being a woman cared for by a man. Then she stepped back, as she knew she had to. “Jonas, you told me once we had the same problem. I didn’t want to believe it then, but it was true. It is true. Once that problem is solved, there really isn’t anything else between us. Your life and mine are separated by a lot more than miles.”
He thought of his house and his sudden need to share it. “They don’t have to be.”
“There was a time I might have believed that.”
“You’re living in the past.” He took her shoulders, but this time his hands weren’t as gentle. “You’re fighting ghosts.”
“I may have my ghosts, but I don’t live in the past. I can’t afford to.” She put her hands to his wrists, but let them lie there only a moment before she let go. “I can’t afford to pretend to myself about you.”
He wanted to demand, he wanted to pull her with him to the sofa and prove to her that she was wrong. He resisted. It wasn’t the first time he’d used courtroom skill, courtroom tactics, to win on a personal level. “We’ll leave it your way for now,” he said easily. “But the case isn’t closed. Are you hungry?”
Unsure whether she should be uneasy or relieved, Liz nodded. “A little.”
“Let’s have breakfast. We’ve got plenty of time before the plane leaves.”
She didn’t trust him. Though Jonas kept the conversation light and passionless throughout breakfast, Liz kept herself braced for a countermove. He was a clever man, she knew. He was a man, she was certain, who made sure he got his own way no matter how long it took. Liz considered herself a woman strong enough to keep promises made, even when they were to herself. No man, not even Jonas, was going to make her change the course she’d set ten years before. There was only room enough for two loves in her life. Faith and her work.
“I can’t get used to eating something at this hour of the morning that’s going to singe my stomach lining.”
Liz swallowed the mixture of peppers, onions and eggs. “Mine’s flame resistant. You should try my chili.”
“Does that mean you’re offering to cook for me?”
When Liz glanced up she wished he hadn’t been smiling at her in just that way. “I suppose I could make enough for two as easily as enough for one. But you don’t seem to have any trouble in the kitchen.”
“Oh, I can cook. It’s just that once I’ve finished, it never seems worth the bother.” He leaned forward to run a finger down her hand from wrist to knuckle. “Tell you what—I’ll buy the supplies and even clean up the mess if you handle the chili.”
Though she smiled, Liz drew her hand away. “The question is, can you handle the chili? It might burn right through a soft lawyer’s stomach.”
Appreciating the challenge, he took her hand again. “Why don’t we find out? Tonight.”
“All right.” She flexed her fingers, but he merely linked his with them. “I can’t eat if you have my hand.”
He glanced down. “You have another one.”
He made her laugh when she’d been set to insist. “I’m entitled to two.”
“I’ll give it back. Later.”
“Hey, Jerry!”
The easy smile on Jonas’s face froze. Only his eyes changed, locking on to Liz’s, warning and demanding. His hand remained on hers, but the grip tightened. The message was very clear—she was to do nothing, say nothing until he’d tallied the odds. He turned, flashing a new smile. Liz’s stomach trembled. It was Jerry’s smile, she realized. Not Jonas’s.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were back in town?” A tall, tanned man with sandy blond hair and a trim beard dropped a hand on Jonas’s shoulder. Liz caught the glint of a diamond on his finger. He was young, she thought, determined to store everything she could, barely into his thirties, and dressed with slick, trendy casualness.
“Quick trip,” Jonas said as, like Liz, he took in every detail. “Little business…” He cast a meaningful glance toward Liz. “Little pleasure.”
The man turned and stared appreciatively at Liz. “Is there any other way?”
Thinking fast, Liz offered her hand. “Hello. Since Jerry’s too rude to introduce us, we’ll have to do it ourselves. I’m Liz Palmer.”
“David Merriworth.” He took her hand between both of his. They were smooth and uncallused. “Jerry might have trouble with manners, but he’s got great taste.”
She smiled, hoping she did it properly. “Thank you.”
“Pull up a chair, Merriworth.” Jonas took out a cigarette. “As long as you keep your hands off my lady.” He said it in the good-natured, only-kidding tone Jerry had inevitably used, but his eyes were Jonas’s, warning her to tread carefully.
“Wouldn’t mind a quick cup of coffee.” David pulled over a chair after he checked his watch. “Got a breakfast meeting in a few minutes. So how are things on Cozumel?” He inclined his head ever so slightly. “Getting in plenty of diving?”
Jonas allowed his lips to curve and kept his eyes steady. “Enough.”
“Glad to hear it. I was going to check in with you myself, but I’ve been in the States for a couple weeks. Just got back in last night.” He used two sugars after the waiter set a fresh cup of coffee beside him. “Business is good, buddy. Real good.”
“What business are you in, Mr. Merriworth?”
He gave Liz a big grin before he winked at Jonas. “Sales, sweetheart. Imports, you might say.”
“Really.” Because her throat was dry she drank more coffee. “It must be fascinating.”
“It has its moments.” He turned in his chair so that he could study her face. “So where did Jerry find you?”
“On Cozumel.” She sent Jonas a steady look. “We’re partners.”
David lowered his cup. “That so?”
They were in too deep, Jonas thought, for him to contradict her. “That’s so,” he agreed.
David picked up his cup again with a shrug. “If it’s okay with the boss, it doesn’t bother me.”
“I do things my way,” Jonas drawled. “Or I don’t do them.”
Amused, and perhaps admiring, David broke into a smile. “That never changes. Look, I’ve been out of touch for a few weeks. The drops still going smooth?”
With those words, Jonas’s last hopes died. What he’d found in the safe-deposit box had been real, and it had been Jerry’s. He buttered a roll as though he had all the time in the world. Beneath the table, Liz touched his leg once, hoping he’d take it as comfort. He never looked at her. “Why shouldn’t they?”
“It’s the classiest operation I’ve ever come across,” David commented, taking a cautious glance around to other tables. “Wouldn’t like to see anything screw it up.”
“You worry too much.”
“You’re the one who should worry,” David pointed out. “I don’t have to deal with Manchez. You weren’t around last year when he took care of those two Colombians. I was. You deal with supplies, I stick with sales. I sleep better.”
“I just dive,” Jonas said, and tapped out his cigarette. “And I sleep fine.”
“He’s something, isn’t he?” David sent Liz another grin. “I knew Jerry here was just the man the boss was looking for. You keep diving, kid.” He tipped his cup at Jonas. “It makes me look good.”
“Sounds like you two have known each other for a while,” Liz said with a smile. Under the table, she twisted the napkin in her lap.
“Go way back, don’t we, Jer?”
“Yeah. We go back.”
“First time we hooked up was six, no, seven years ago. We were working a pigeon drop in L.A. We’d have had that twenty thousand out of that old lady if her daughter hadn’t caught on.” He took out a slim cigarette case. “Your brother got you out of that one, didn’t he? The East Coast lawyer.”
“Yeah.” Jonas remembered posting the bond and pulling the strings.
“Now I’ve been working out of here for almost five. A real businessman.” He slapped Jonas’s arm. “Hell of a lot better than the pigeon drop, huh, Jerry?”
“Pays better.”
David let out a roar of laughter. “Why don’t I show you two around Acapulco tonight?”
“Gotta get back.” Jonas signaled for the check. “Business.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He nodded toward the restaurant’s entrance. “Here’s my customer now. Next time you drop down, give a call.”
“Sure.”
“And give my best to old Clancy.” With another laugh, David gave them each a quick salute. They watched him stride across the room and shake hands with a dark-suited man.
“Don’t say anything here,” Jonas murmured as he signed the breakfast check. “Let’s go.”
Liz’s crumpled napkin slid to the floor as she rose to walk out with him. He didn’t speak again until they had the door of the villa closed behind them.
“You had no business telling him we were partners.”
Because she’d been ready for the attack, she shrugged it off. “He said more once I did.”
“He’d have said just as much if you’d made an excuse and left the table.”
She folded her arms. “We have the same problem, remember?”
He didn’t care to have his own words tossed back at him. “The least you could have done was to give him another name.”
“Why? They know who I am. Sooner or later he’s going to talk to whoever’s in charge and get the whole story.”
She was right. He didn’t care for that either. “Are you packed?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s check out. We’ll go to the airport.”
“And then?”
“And then we go straight to Moralas.”
“You’ve been very busy.” Moralas held on to his temper as he rocked back in his chair. “Two of my men wasted their valuable time looking for you in Acapulco. You might have told me, Mr. Sharpe, that you planned to take Miss Palmer on a trip.”
“I thought a police tail in Acapulco might be inconvenient.”
“And now that you have finished your own investigation, you bring me this.” He held up the key and examined it. “This which Miss Palmer discovered several days ago. As a lawyer, you must understand the phrase ‘withholding evidence.’”
“Of course.” Jonas nodded coolly. “But neither Miss Palmer nor myself could know the key was evidence. We speculated, naturally, that it might have belonged to my brother. Withholding a speculation is hardly a crime.”
“Perhaps not, but it is poor judgment. Poor judgment often translates into an offense.”
Jonas leaned back in his chair. If Moralas wanted to argue law, they’d argue law. “If the key belonged to my brother, as executor of his estate, it became mine. In any case, once it was proved to me that the key did indeed belong to Jerry, and that the contents of the safe-deposit box were evidence, I brought both the key and a description of the contents to you.”
“Indeed. And do you also speculate as to how your brother came to possess those particular items?”
“Yes.”
Moralas waited a beat, then turned to Liz. “And you, Miss Palmer—you also have your speculations?”
She had her hands gripped tightly in her lap, but her voice was matter-of-fact and reasonable. “I know that whoever attacked me wanted money, obviously a great deal of money. We found a great deal.”
“And a bag of what Mr. Sharpe…speculates is cocaine.” Moralas folded his hands on the desk with the key under them. “Miss Palmer, did you at any time see Mr. Jeremiah Sharpe in possession of cocaine?”
“No.”
“Did he at any time speak to you of cocaine or drug-trafficking?”
“No, of course not. I would have told you.”
“As you told me about the key?” When Jonas started to protest, Moralas waved him off. “I will need a list of your customers for the past six weeks, Miss Palmer. Names and, wherever possible, addresses.”
“My customers? Why?”
“It’s more than possible that Mr. Sharpe used your shop for his contacts.”
“My shop.” Outraged, she stood up. “My boats? Do you think he could have passed drugs under my nose without me being aware?”
Moralas took out a cigar and studied it. “I very much hope you were unaware, Miss Palmer. You will bring me the list of clients by the end of the week.” He glanced at Jonas. “Of course, you are within your rights to demand a warrant. It will simply slow down the process. And I, of course, am within my rights to hold Miss Palmer as a material witness.”
Jonas watched the pale blue smoke circle toward the ceiling. It was tempting to call Moralas’s bluff simply as an exercise in testing two ends of the law. And in doing so, he and the captain could play tug-of-war with Liz for hours. “There are times, Captain, when it’s wiser not to employ certain rights. I think I’m safe in saying that the three of us in this room want basically the same thing.” He rose and flicked his lighter at the end of Moralas’s cigar. “You’ll have your list, Captain. And more.”
Moralas lifted his gaze and waited.
“Pablo Manchez,” Jonas said, and was gratified to see Moralas’s eyes narrow.
“What of Manchez?”
“He’s on Cozumel. Or was,” Jonas stated. “My brother met with him several times in local bars and clubs. You may also be interested in David Merriworth, an American working out of Acapulco. Apparently he’s the one who put my brother onto his contacts in Cozumel. If you contact the authorities in the States, you’ll find that Merriworth has an impressive rap sheet.”
In his precise handwriting, Moralas noted down the names, though he wasn’t likely to forget them. “I appreciate the information. However, in the future, Mr. Sharpe, I would appreciate it more if you stayed out of my way. Buenas tardes, Miss Palmer.”
Moments later, Liz strode out to the street. “I don’t like being threatened. That’s what he was doing, wasn’t it?” she demanded. “He was threatening to put me in jail.”
Very calm, even a bit amused, Jonas lit a cigarette. “He was pointing out his options, and ours.”
“He didn’t threaten to put you in jail,” Liz muttered.
“He doesn’t worry as much about me as he does about you.”
“Worry?” She stopped with her hand gripping the handle of Jonas’s rented car.
“He’s a good cop. You’re one of his people.”
She looked back toward the police station with a scowl. “He has a funny way of showing it.” A scruffy little boy scooted up to the car and gallantly opened the door for her. Even as he prepared to hold out a hand, Liz was digging for a coin.
“Gracias.”
He checked the coin, grinned at the amount and nodded approval. “Buenas tardes, señorita.” Just as gallantly he closed the door for her while the coin disappeared into a pocket.
“It’s a good thing you don’t come into town often,” Jonas commented.
“Why?”
“You’d be broke in a week.”
Liz found a clip in her purse and pulled back her hair. “Because I gave a little boy twenty-five pesos?”
“How much did you give the other kid before we went in to Moralas?”
“I bought something from him.”
“Yeah.” Jonas swung away from the curb. “You look like a woman who can’t go a day without a box of Chiclets.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“That’s right. Now tell me where I can find the best place for buying ingredients for chili.”
“You want me to cook for you tonight?”
“It’ll keep your mind off the rest. We’ve done everything we can do for the moment,” he added. “Tonight we’re going to relax.”
She would have liked to believe he was right. Between nerves and anger, she was wound tight. “Cooking’s supposed to relax me?”
“Eating is going to relax you. It’s just an unavoidable circumstance that you have to cook it first.”
It sounded so absurd that she subsided. “Turn left at the next corner. I tell you what to buy, you buy it, then you stay out of my way.”
“Agreed.”
“And you clean up.”
“Absolutely.”
“Pull over here,” she directed. “And remember, you asked for it.”
Liz never skimped when she cooked, even taking into account that authentic Mexican spices had more zing than the sort sold in the average American supermarket. She’d developed a taste for Mexican food and Yucatán specialties when she’d been a child, exploring the peninsula with her parents. She wasn’t an elaborate cook, and when alone would often make do with a sandwich, but when her heart was in it, she could make a meal that would more than satisfy.
Perhaps, in a way, she wanted to impress him. Liz found she was able to admit it while she prepared a Mayan salad for chilling. It was probably very natural and harmless to want to impress someone with your cooking. After peeling and slicing an avocado, she found, oddly enough, she was relaxing.
So much of what she’d done in the past few days had been difficult or strange. It was a relief to make a decision no more vital than the proper way to slice her fruits and vegetables. In the end, she fussed with the arrangement a bit more, pleased with the contrasting colors of greens and oranges and cherry tomatoes. It was, she recalled, the only salad she could get Faith to eat because it was the only one Faith considered pretty enough. Liz didn’t realize she was smiling as she began to sauté onions and peppers. She added a healthy dose of garlic and let it all simmer.
“It already smells good,” Jonas commented as he strode through the doorway.
She only glanced over her shoulder. “You’re supposed to stay out of my way.”
“You cook, I take care of the table.”
Liz only shrugged and turned back to the stove. She measured, stirred and spiced until the kitchen was filled with a riot of scent. The sauce, chunky with meat and vegetables, simmered and thickened on low heat. Pleased with herself, she wiped her hands on a cloth and turned around. Jonas was sitting comfortably at the table watching her.
“You look good,” he told her. “Very good.”
It seemed so natural, their being together in the kitchen with a pot simmering and a breeze easing its way through the screen. It made her remember how hard it was not to want such simple things in your life. Liz set the cloth down and found she didn’t know what to do with her hands. “Some men think a woman looks best in front of a stove.”
“I don’t know. It’s a toss-up with the way you looked at the wheel of a boat. How long does that have to cook?”
“About a half hour.”
“Good.” He rose and went to the counter where he’d left two bottles. “We have time for some wine.”
A little warning signal jangled in her brain. Liz decided she needed a lid for the chili. “I don’t have the right glasses.”
“I already thought of that.” From a bag beside the bottle, he pulled out two thin-stemmed wineglasses.
“You’ve been busy,” she murmured.
“You didn’t like me hovering over you in the market. I had to do something.” He drew out the cork, then let the wine breathe.
“These candles aren’t mine.”
He turned to see Liz fiddling with the fringe of one of the woven mats he’d set on the table. In the center were two deep blue tapers that picked up the color in the border of her dishes.
“They’re ours,” Jonas told her.
She twisted the fringe around one finger, let it go, then twisted it again. The last time she’d burned candles had been during a power failure. These didn’t look sturdy, but slender and frivolous. “There wasn’t any need to go to all this trouble. I don’t—”
“Do candles and wine make you uneasy?”
Dropping the fringe, she let her hands fall to her sides. “No, of course not.”
“Good.” He poured rich red wine into both glasses. Walking to her, he offered one. “Because I find them relaxing. We did agree to relax.”
She sipped, and though she wanted to back away, held her ground. “I’m afraid you may be looking for more than I can give.”
“No.” He touched his glass to hers. “I’m looking for exactly what you can give.”
Recognizing when she was out of her depth, Liz turned toward the refrigerator. “We can start on the salad.”
He lit the candles and dimmed the lights. She told herself it didn’t matter. Atmosphere was nothing more than a pleasant addition to a meal.
“Very pretty,” Jonas told her when she’d mixed the dressing and arranged avocado slices. “What’s it called?”
“It’s a Mayan salad.” Liz took the first nibble and was satisfied. “I learned the recipe when I worked at the hotel. Actually, that’s where most of my cooking comes from.”
“Wonderful,” Jonas decided after the first bite. “It makes me wish I’d talked you into cooking before.”
“A one time only.” She relaxed enough to smile. “Meals aren’t—”
“Included in the rent,” Jonas finished. “We might negotiate.”
This time she laughed at him and chose a section of grapefruit. “I don’t think so. How do you manage in Philadelphia?”
“I have a housekeeper who’ll toss together a casserole on Wednesdays.” He took another bite, enjoying the contrast of crisp greens and spicy dressing. “And I eat out a lot.”
“And parties? I suppose you go to a lot of parties.”
“Some business, some pleasure.” He’d almost forgotten what it was like to sit in a kitchen and enjoy a simple meal. “To be honest, it wears a bit. The cruising.”
“Cruising?”
“When Jerry and I were teenagers, we might hop in the car on a Friday night and cruise. The idea was to see what teenage girls had hopped in their cars to cruise. The party circuit’s just adult cruising.”
She frowned a bit because it didn’t seem as glamorous as she’d imagined. “It seems rather aimless.”
“Doesn’t seem. Is.”
“You don’t appear to be a man who does anything without a purpose.”
“I’ve had my share of aimless nights,” he murmured. “You come to a point where you realize you don’t want too many more.” That was just it, he realized. It wasn’t the work, the hours spent closeted with law books or in a courtroom. It was the nights without meaning that left him wanting more. He lifted the wine to top off her glass, but his eyes stayed on hers. “I came to that realization very recently.”
Her blood began to stir. Deliberately, Liz pushed her wine aside and rose to go to the stove. “We all make decisions at certain points in our lives, realign our priorities.”
“I have the feeling you did that a long time ago.”
“I did. I’ve never regretted it.”
That much was true, he thought. She wasn’t a woman for regrets. “You wouldn’t change it, would you?”
Liz continued to spoon chili into bowls. “Change what?”
“If you could go back eleven years and take a different path, you wouldn’t do it.”
She stopped. From across the room he could see the flicker of candlelight in her eyes as she turned to him. More, he could see the strength that softness and shadows couldn’t disguise. “That would mean I’d have to give up Faith. No, I wouldn’t do it.”
When she set the bowls on the table, Jonas took her hand. “I admire you.”
Flustered, she stared down at him. “What for?”
“For being exactly what you are.”