about becoming involved with a man who could very well die, Serena looked for all the world as if she was getting ready to reel John in.
Some friend.
Of course, Mariah had told Serena that she and John were just that—friends. Still, Mariah had the sense that even if she’d told her friend that she was already well on her way to falling in love with this man, Serena wouldn’t have given a damn.
Neither John nor Serena looked up as Mariah excused herself quietly and went back to the bar.
The hard, cold fact was that Mariah didn’t stand a chance with John if Serena decided that she wanted him for her own. And it sure seemed as if she wanted him.
Disgusted with all of them—herself included—Mariah set her empty glass down on the bar, shaking her head when the bartender asked if she wanted a refill. No, it was time to accept defeat and beat a retreat.
The bartender had a pen but no paper, so Mariah quickly wrote a note on a napkin. “I’m partied out, and I’ve got to be up early in the morning. I’ve gone ahead home—didn’t want you to feel obligated to drive me. Enjoy the rest of party. Mariah.”
She folded the napkin in half and asked the bartender to bring it to John in a minute or two.
Chin up, she silently commanded herself as she took off her shoes and went barefoot down the stairs that led to the beach. Jonathan Mills wasn’t the man she’d thought he was anyway. He was just another member of the jet set, able to talk for hours at a time about nothing of any importance whatsoever. Frankly, she’d expected more of him. More depth. More soul. She’d thought she’d seen more when she’d looked into his eyes.
She’d thought she’d seen a lover, but she’d only seen the most casual of acquaintances.
She headed down the beach, toward home, determined not to look back.
“JOHN.” THERE WAS THE briefest flare of surprise in Daniel Tonaka’s eyes as he opened the door to his hotel room and saw Miller standing on the other side. “Is there a problem?”
Miller shook his head. What the hell was he doing here? “No. I…” He ran his hand through his too short hair. “I saw that your light was still on and…” And what? “I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, then shrugged. “What else is new?”
What was new was his admitting it.
Daniel didn’t comment, though. He just nodded, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
The hotel suite was smaller than Miller’s room, but decorated with the same style furniture, the same patterned curtains, the same color rug. Still, it seemed like another planet entirely, strange and alien. Miller stood awkwardly, uncertain whether to sit or stand or beat a quick exit before it was too late.
He remembered the way he used to go into Tony’s room without even knocking, the way he’d simply help himself to a beer from Tony’s refrigerator. He remembered the way they’d pick apart every word spoken in the course of the night’s investigation, hashing it out, searching for the hidden meanings and subtle clues, trying to figure out from what had—or hadn’t—been said, if their cover had been blown.
They’d done the same thing in high school, except back then the conversation had been about girls, about basketball, about the seemingly huge but in retrospect quite petty troubles they’d had with the two rival gangs that ruled the streets of their worn-out little town. They’d often been threatened and ordered to choose sides, but Tony had followed Miller’s lead and remained neutral. They were Switzerland, for no one and against no one.
Switzerland. God, Miller hadn’t thought about that in ages.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Daniel asked politely. “A beer?”
“Are you having one?”
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t drink.” He paused. “I thought you knew that.”
Miller gazed at him. “I knew that when you were around me, you chose not to drink. I didn’t want to assume that held for all the times you weren’t with me.”
“I don’t drink,” Daniel said again.
“I shouldn’t have bothered you. It’s late—”
“Be careful about coming on too strong with the suspect,” Daniel warned him.
Miller blinked. “Excuse me?”
The kid’s lips curved slightly in amusement. “I figured that’s why you came over here, right? To ask my opinion about where you stand with Serena Westford?”
Miller didn’t know why the hell he was here. He turned toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”
“John,” Daniel said, “sit down. Have a soda.” He unlocked the little self-service refrigerator and crouched down to look inside. “How about something without any caffeine?”
Miller found himself sitting down on the edge of the flower-patterned couch as Daniel set a pair of lemon-
lime sodas on the coffee table.
Daniel sat across from him and opened one of the cans of soda. “I listened in on most of your conversations,” he said. “I think it went well—Serena kept talking about you even after you left. She was asking people if they knew you. She’s definitely interested. But she kept referring to you as Mariah’s friend, John, and it was more than just a way to identify you. I got the feeling that she’s getting off on the idea of stealing you away from her friend.”
Miller gazed at his partner. He’d never heard Daniel talk quite so much—and certainly not unless his opinion had been specifically solicited. “Yeah, I got that feeling, too,” he finally said.
“What are you going to do about it?” Daniel asked.
“What do you think I should do?”
It was clear that Daniel had already given this a great deal of thought. “The obvious solution is for you to see the friend again. Play Serena’s game. Hook her interest even further by making it seem as if you’re not going to be an easy catch.” The kid gazed down at the soda can in his hands as if seeing the bright-colored label for the first time. “But that doesn’t take into consideration other things.”
Other things. “Such as?”
Daniel looked up, squarely meeting Miller’s gaze. “Such as the fact that you really like this other lady. Mariah. Marie. Whatever she wants to call herself.”
Miller couldn’t deny it. But he could steer the conversation in a slightly different direction. “Mariah invited me to go out to the Triple F building site tomorrow morning.” Of course, that had been before he’d ignored her so completely at Serena’s party.
Daniel nodded. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
Miller had never hesitated over making this kind of a decision before. If he had a choice to do something that would further him in his case, by God, he’d do it. No questions, no doubt. But here he was wavering for fear of hurting someone’s feelings.
It was absurd.
And yet when he closed his eyes, he could still see Mariah, hurt enough to leave the party without him, but kind enough to write a note telling him she was leaving. He could see her, head held high as she went down the stairs to the beach.
He’d left the party soon after and followed her to make sure she’d arrived home safely. He’d sat in his car on the street with his lights off and watched her move about her house through the slats in her blinds. He watched her disappear down the hall to her bedroom, unzipping the back of that incredible dress as she went.
She’d returned only a moment later, dressed in the same kind of oversize T-shirt that she’d worn to bed the night before. When