Captivated by You

My gaze drifted to the window and its view of Manhattan beyond it, then settled on the empty wall where a collage of photos of her and us hung in the same space in my penthouse office in our home on Fifth Avenue. I could imagine the collage clearly, having spent countless hours studying it over the last few months. Looking out at the city had once been the way I encapsulated my world. Now, I accomplished that by looking at Eva.

I sat at my desk and woke my computer with a shake of the mouse, taking a deep slow breath as my wife s face filled my monitor. She wore no makeup in the photo that was my desktop wallpaper, and a smattering of light freckles on her nose made her appear younger than her twenty-four years. My gaze slid over her features the curve of her brows, the brightness of her gray eyes, the fullness of her lips. In the moments when I let myself think of it, I could almost feel those lips against my skin. Her kisses were benedictions, promises from my angel that made my life worth living.

With a determined exhalation, I picked up the phone and speed-dialed Raúl Huerta. Despite the earliness of the hour, he answered swiftly and alertly.

Mrs. Cross and Cary Taylor are heading to San Diego today, I said, my hand curling into a fist at the thought. I didn t have to say more.

Got it.

I want a recent photo of Anne Lucas and a detailed rundown of where she was last night on my desk by noon.

At the latest, he affirmed.

I hung up and stared at Eva s captivatingly beautiful face. I d caught her in a happy, unguarded moment, a state of being I was determined to keep her in for the rest of her life. But last night she d been distressed by a possible run-in with a woman I d once used. It had been a while since I d last crossed paths with Anne, but if she was responsible for aggravating my wife, she d be seeing me again. Soon.

Opening my inbox, I started sifting through my e-mails, drafting quic