Garvin acquiesced. "He's your dog."
Once he handed over the leash, she expected him to march off to Union Street, leaving her and Otto to pick up his heels. But he didn't. Instead, he drew his brows together, studying her. "You look tired, Annie." His tone had softened, and she wondered if he'd even seen her since he'd walked into her gallery, if he'd been too preoccupied with his own fears and misgivings to really see her. "You work long hours."
She shrugged. "I don't mind. I don't know that many people in San Francisco to hang out with, and I don't have a lot of spare cash for restaurants and movies. I like my apartment, but I wouldn't want to spend hours on end there. And when I'm alone too long—" She sighed. "Well, the long hours don't bother me."
"When you're home alone for too long," he said, starting up the walk together with her and Otto, "it's easy to start thinking about how you're really hanging by your fingernails over the abyss."
The abyss. It held her grief over Gran, her cottage, Maine, the life she'd had, her fears for her future. If she dropped into it, she might fall forever, clawing for handholds, or just giving up, relaxing into a free fall, and taking whatever fate threw at her. Given his own awful experience with loss, Garvin would understand. He would know when she was bluffing, when she was trying to pretend she wasn't scared.
"At least I like what I'm doing," she said.
"That's important."
They turned up Union Street, its shops and restaurants crowded, lit up on the brisk Friday evening. People gave Otto wide berth. Annie did her best to keep up with him. Their sunrise walk seemed only to have made him more energetic, none of yesterday's lethargy in evidence.
When they came lo Garvin's car, Olio jumped in back without hesitation. Annie grinned. "I think he likes your leather seats. Either that or you've convinced him you and he are buddies."
Garvin surprised her with a short laugh. "I always make a point of making friends with rottweilers."
Not until they were nearly to her street on Russian Hill did Annie notice that her hands were cold and a bit on the shaky side. She didn't blame her visits from Vic Denardo, her talk with the police, or thoughts of hanging by her fingernails over the abyss. She blamed Garvin MacCrae.
She stole a quick glance at him as he maneuvered his car up her steep, pretty street. Being around him had a way of making her aware of every inch of her body, of his body. Her skin felt electrified, sensitized. She couldn't seem to get a decent breath.
"By the way," she said, "I'm going tonight too."
"What?"
"Cynthia Linwood called this afternoon to make sure I knew I was still invited, regardless of what you chose to do."
"Annie—" He sucked in a breath, frowned over at her. "You're not serious."
"I've got an outfit all figured out. If you want to wait while I change, it'll only take me two minutes. Otherwise I can just call a cab."
He was silent. Seething, really, she thought, unperturbed. She was mucking up his plans for her, and he didn't like it.
"It's my choice," she said stubbornly.
He hissed through clenched teeth. "Annie, you know damned well Cynthia Linwood suspects you're in touch with Sarah. I understand she's in a position to help you—"
"I'm not going because of her."
"Annie, damnit—"
She glanced at him in the dim light. "I'm going because of me."
He snatched a parking space half a block up from her building, yanked on the emergency brake, and flopped back in his seat, his grip still tight on the steering wheel.
"Now don't start fretting," Annie told him. "I'm not going off the deep end or anything. I wasn't really paying attention to Linwoods on Saturday at the auction or even Monday night at the Winslow opening. I'd like to know more about them, maybe understand Sarah better." She swallowed, then decided she might as well tell him. "Maybe understand you better too."
He sighed heavily. "Annie, Annie."
"I'm not crazy."
He smiled. "I know you're not." He leaned toward her, brushed the back of his hand along her cheek, sending warm shivers through her. His gaze was mesmerizing. "We'll go together."
Naturally, he refused to wait in the car while she went in to change. Unwilling to let her out of his sight, he followed her back to her apartment. In the apartments above hers lights were on, music was playing. She could hear laughter. It was a taste of other people's Friday nights.
She unlocked her door and shot inside, suddenly aware of her own vulnerability. Maybe rationality had nothing to do with her decision to go tonight. Maybe she just didn't want to be alone. She grabbed her pooper scoop and thrust it and the leash, Otto still on it, at Garvin. "You can give Otto a quick walk while I change."
His eyebrows went up. "I suppose it's too much to hope he doesn't need a walk?"
She smiled. "Way too much."
"Annie—"