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‘That’s what I like to hear. Why don’t you go to bed?’
‘I think I will.’ She shut down her computer.
‘Leave it,’ Dante said. ‘I’ll put it away with mine.’
She kissed him and drifted away, yawning.
He watched her go, wondering if she would think it strange that tonight he didn’t come to bed with her. In fact he was hatching a plan—reprehensible, no doubt, but he didn’t think she’d mind too much when she found out.
She had never done as she’d promised and emailed him the pictures he had taken of her. Now he proposed to conduct a raid and claim them. Waiting until he could see that she’d turned the bedroom light off, he switched her computer back on.
He located the folder without difficulty, and within moments was looking at the pictures he’d taken. He’d thought he knew them, but now they struck him with new force. So much had happened since then. He hadn’t meant to grow so close to her, but it had happened despite his resolutions. Perhaps it was fate. He, a man who believed in fate, had to believe in this possibility.
Now he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t seen her clearly before. Entranced by her loveliness, he’d overlooked the strength and honesty in her face. It was this, as much as her passionate body, that had broken down his defences, so that only a day ago he’d been on the verge of telling her things he’d never told another living soul, things he’d sworn never to tell anyone in his life—however long or short that life might be.
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