The Hidden

“It’s not as if that would matter,” she said.

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling—a fever of desire, for one thing. And yet he found himself smiling. “It wouldn’t matter if we had sex?”

She flushed and met his eyes. “The sex was always great. And it wasn’t that we didn’t care.” She turned away suddenly. “Oh, my God. I wasn’t thinking. I mean, there might be someone else in your life now.”

“There’s no one else in my life,” he said.

“Then?”

“The problem is that it would matter. It would matter to me.”

“But would it be so horrible?” she asked.

“Are you actually asking me to sleep with you?”

“Yes, I’m asking you to sleep with me. Whether that means sleep or...more, that’s up to you. I’m not going to force myself on you.”

His heart seemed to surge into his throat. She had always been so beautiful, and her honesty, combined with the teasing light in her eyes, had always added to her enchantment. Now her eyes were serious, with only a hint of teasing.

“It hurt, Scarlet. The divorce, it hurt. I’m still not over it. So I don’t think sharing a bed with you would be a good idea.”

She winced, looking at the mannequin again. “Please,” she said softly.

“Because you’re afraid of a statue?”

She shook her head. “Because I’m just plain terrified. Of everything. I mean, I know I should be strong. And maybe I can be. I’m just not feeling it at the moment.”

He was so stunned by her words that he was surprised he was able to move. He walked over to where she was sitting, went down on one knee and took her hand. He had to turn this situation into something a little lighter.

Say no, he told himself. Tell her you’ll sit outside her door all night, waiting and watching. Just say no.

He couldn’t do it. The single word was beyond him.

“So now you’re begging me to sleep with you?”

“Yes, I guess so,” she said.

“Okay, fine.”

“Okay, fine—you’ll do it?”

“If you’re begging, yeah, I’ll do it. A guy doesn’t get that kind of an offer every day.”

He could tell that she wanted to look away, but he didn’t let her, catching her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes. “Just remember,” he said a little harshly. “I’m not the one who wanted the divorce.”

She nodded. “I know that,” she told him softly. “But it was never because I didn’t want you.”

They didn’t get a chance to go any deeper. They heard footsteps on the stairs, and Diego stood up quickly.

A minute later Brett walked in with Diego’s bag. “Where do you want this?” he asked.

Diego kept his eyes steady on Scarlet’s. He wasn’t going to lie, not where his partner and the Krewe were concerned. “Scarlet’s room,” he said.

Brett didn’t blink. “All right. I’ll take the other room, then. Double the security for Scarlet. The main house will have Meg, Matt and Adam, and we can call in reinforcements if necessary.”

“Excuse me just a second,” Scarlet said, rising and hurrying out of the room.

Brett didn’t say a word as he walked away to put Diego’s bag in Scarlet’s room, leaving Diego alone with the statue of Nathan Kendall.

“I don’t know your true story,” he said, feeling a little foolish addressing a life-size carving, “but hopefully we’ll discover what really happened to you and your wife, and maybe save some of your descendants. But for now...”

The painted blue eyes of the statue stared back at him, and Diego suddenly discovered that he was smiling.

“But for now, I guess I ought to be thanking you,” he said.

He left the room to join the others. He realized he was feeling famished.

In many ways.