Chapter 14: After Close

The harbor patrol logged my yacht at anchor from nine until the fire, and the investigator let me go at four in the afternoon.

Through all four hours of questions I kept thinking of the office clerk's one detail: the woman who collected my second fob was blonde.

I knew one blonde woman who had my face in her phone, and the alibi meant nothing until I could prove it.

My owner let me into the restaurant kitchen after close without asking why.

Miles came in through the alley door at midnight, gray with ash and thirty hours awake.

He had spent the day calling the owners of two burned boats and apologizing to each of them.

"Sit," I said.

"Leah."

"You haven't eaten since the yacht. Sit."

He sat on the stool by the pass.

I made him a plate of seared scallops over white beans and lemon, because it was fast and warm.

He ate all of it with his eyes on me.

When the plate was clean, he set the fork down.

"Rule two," he said.

"We're in a closed kitchen. Nobody's watching."

"So I'm not allowed to touch you."

"You're allowed to try," I said.

He stood up so quickly the stool scraped.

My back hit the steel counter before he reached me.

His mouth came down on mine, hard and tasting of lemon.

I got my hands into his hair.

He lifted me onto the counter, and the cold metal went through my thin work pants.

"I thought about this the entire day," he said against my throat. "While I was on the phone with a man whose boat I burned."

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