This is an excerpt from, A Room in Blake’s Folly, a story set in a semi-ghost town in Nevada It was a grim evening of icy…
A delicious breeze tickled the air, and the little boat rocked gently. A fine line appeared between Renaud’s brows, and his blue eyes were, once again, serious. “I need your help.”
Anne stared. “My help? With what? Translating?”
“No. With something else. I have to find out who is behind the thefts at Karakuyu.”
The feeling of dread returned, but she forced herself to sound casual. “How could I possibly help you with that?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I just don’t want to feel that I’m alone in this.”
What could she say to that? Tell him she was the last person he should team up with? That long ago, she’d escaped arrest by the skin of her teeth? If she did so, this splendid moment would be over. The silver-foil glimmer of romance would be tarnished forever. He’d row back to shore, drive back to Gülkale, get rid of her as quickly as possible.
“Anne?” He reached out to caress her bare arm. “Come back from wherever you are.”
“You know nothing about me,” she said jaggedly.
“Nothing,” he agreed.
She swallowed. “I could be involved in the thefts for all you know. Why ask for my help? Why choose me?”
He smiled faintly. “A good question. I suppose, quite simply, I need—or want—to trust you.”
She felt utterly miserable. Why was life always like this? Wanting someone and not being able to have them? Wanting trust, but seeing it snatched away before it came close?
Release date: January 15, 2020 Armchair travel? Nothing like it. No last-minute panic while getting out to the airport; no check-in or security check lines; no…
The tired moon grew pale, and early morning slipped in, hazy and shy, touching a line of scratchy conifers with rose, tracing distant mountains. They were still on the high plateau and many miles from the sea, yet Anne was almost certain she could see the faint line of water, way over there, on the blurred horizon.
Renaud left the highway, turned onto a side road, and stopped near a tangle of Turkish cedars. How pale and exhausted he looked after the difficult drive.
“Feel like a walk?”
“Excellent idea,” she said, swinging open the car door.
They began following the dusty track. The air was resinous but carried a hint of salt on its chilly edge. She shivered.
“Cold?”
“Not at all,” she answered, although it wasn’t true. After Gülkale’s insistent, dry heat, this damp, sea-laden air was a shock.
His brow furrowed. “You don’t like showing vulnerability, do you?” Then he slipped his arm around her shoulders, and the faint sting of his words vanished.
“That’s much better,” she said softly. Very much better. Wonderfully so. The warmth of his scent engulfed her, and her nostrils flared with pleasure. Her arm curled around his waist. How right it felt, being here with him. How easy. And reckless, too.
“Anne? Look.” Deftly, Renaud caught her shoulders and swung her around until they were both facing the dark mountains in the east. “I’ve ordered something special, just for you.”
And at that very moment, the gleaming arch of new sun slipped up into the violet and crimson edge of sky.
She laughed, caught by the moment’s sheer perfection. If only this could last forever. If only nothing else existed, either after or before. She leaned back into his arms, felt his steady strength.
“Thanks for making the sun rise for me.”
“Any morning you’d like.”
