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car, gave the valet a tip that would cover her lunch budget for a week, then swung into his own seat with practiced ease.
    They pulled away with the smooth growl of a perfectly engineered motor.
    In the cozy intimacy of the two-seater, it was impossible not to be affected by Peter’s nearness, the way his long body sprawled in the seat, the way his thick blond hair fell onto his forehead, the precise angles of his handsome profile. She knew this man intimately and he knew her body just as well.
    The one sobering image was visualizing Angela sitting in this seat only weeks before, unaware that her life would come to such an abrupt and tragic end. Although the woman had indulged some of her darker whims, she hadn’t deserved to die. And Carlotta was haunted by the knowledge that Angela had died knowing that her husband carried a picture of Carlotta in his wallet.
    Perhaps in deference to the decision she faced, Peter didn’t press her for conversation and instead slid in a Jack Johnson CD and turned up the volume. Dusk was descending early on this ominously overcast day, prompting motorists to flip on their lights. A stiff wind ruffled the riotously blooming crape myrtle trees in the median, sending bright pink blossoms across the flared hood of the Porsche. Sunday afternoon traffic around the mall area was as heavy as her mood.
    But soon the mellow music began to calm Carlotta’s ragged nerves and she laid her head back against the headrest, and closed her eyes.
    She didn’t want to watch as they left the exclusive area of Buckhead and entered the more shabby section of the city where she and Wesley lived in a town house. She just wanted to listen to the music and imagine that her life had turned out exactly as she’d planned.
    In her mind, she and Peter were married and on their way home to their sprawling residence in a gated community where they would relieve their nanny, then tuck in their beautiful children before retiring to the hot tub with a fifty-dollar bottle of wine and making love with a passion that contradicted how long they had been together.
    A touch to her hand startled her and her eyes flew wide open. The music had dimmed and the car had stopped.
    “We’re here,” he said quietly.
    In the falling dusk, the car headlights illuminated a garage door with peeling paint and a driveway riddled with cracks and stray weeds. Embarrassment welled in her chest. She had let things go around the house.
    Wesley had repaired and cleaned the small deck in the back, but from the front it looked as if a low-class family inhabited the place.
    If the shoe fits, wear it, she thought morosely.
    Who was she kidding? If the shoe fit, she’d buy it with her employee discount.
    Peter adjusted the rearview mirror and stared intently, then checked the side mirrors.
    “Is something wrong?” she asked.
    “It’s probably nothing. I just thought someone was following us.”
    Her pulse picked up and she turned around in her seat. “You’re kidding.” Could her father be tailing them? Jack Terry? A loan shark? Good grief, the possibilities were endless.
    “Like I said, it’s probably nothing. Or just a pesky reporter.”
    “Have reporters really been following you?”
    He shrugged. “A couple were parked outside the subdivision when I left this morning. Guess they wanted to get a shot of the bereaved husband. And I’m sure some of them aren’t quite convinced I had nothing to do with Angela’s…dying.”
    “I’m so sorry.”
    “Why are you sorry? Like Detective Terry said, you’re the one who believed in me when no one else did.
    How can I ever thank you?”
    She dipped her chin. “Your discretion in this matter with my father is thanks enough.”
    “Carly,” Peter said, picking up her left hand. “It’s really none of my business but what did you do with the engagement ring I gave you?”
    “I…had to sell it.”
    He nodded. “As you should have. I suspect money was tight after your parents left.”
    “It