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chance to see your new house.”
    N ESTLED IN an area of exclusive estates, the house was a sprawling Tudor with magnificent grounds. Practically every specimen of tree, shrub, and flower had been artistically arranged around a manicured expanse of greenery. Orange, lime, and lemon trees, their leafy branches heavy with ripe fruit, filled the air with their fragrant aroma. A waterfall had been constructedadjacent to the backyard patio, and birds gathered daily to bathe in the reflecting pool.
    Once they pulled into the driveway, Lily climbed out of the passenger seat of Richard’s blue Lexus, then walked around to speak to him through the driver’s window. “Thanks for the ride,” she said. “I’m glad we got to talk. Since you’re representing Middleton, we’ll have to maintain our distance from now on.”
    “Who do you think you’re talking to?” Richard said, opening the car door and forcing her to step aside. “I told you I only took his case so I could spend time with you. We’ll just have to be careful, keep a low profile.”
    Before she knew it, he was standing at the door. She’d forgotten how strong-willed he was, how he couldn’t take no for an answer.
    “This place is fabulous,” he said. “Aren’t you going to invite me in for that drink?”
    “Please, Richard,” she said, her face flushing, “we’re going to be seeing each other every day once the trial begins.”
    He extended his hand. “Give me the key.”
    “Damn you,” she said, “don’t you know how much an estate like this is worth? I’m only leasing the guest house. Even that’s a stretch on my budget.”
    “Oh,” he said, realizing he had embarrassed her. “Then let’s go to the guest house.”
    Lily was too tired to resist. She led him down a winding path to a small stone cottage located on the back portion of the property, surrounded by rosebushes. Bugs swarmed around the exterior light fixture. Richard swatted them away as she dug in her purse for the key, finally unlocking the door and motioning for him to come inside. “I don’t think you have to worry about anyone bothering you here,” he said. “Looks like you’ve found yourself a nice little hideaway.”
    He pulled her into his arms as she was reaching for the light switch.
    Lily twisted away. “I enjoyed seeing you, but I don’t think we should take it any further.”
    Richard slapped his arms against his thighs in frustration. Onthe drive to Santa Barbara that morning, he had fantasized that they would pick up where they left off. During the early days of their affair, Lily had been like a young girl experiencing sex for the first time. He could still hear her delightful giggle, feel her amazingly soft skin, imagine her breasts pressed against his naked chest. They’d made love on the sofa in his living room, their long legs sticking off the end. Their passion for each other had been insatiable; they’d even had sex at the D.A.’s office in an interview room, undaunted by the fact that they were placing both of their reputations on the line.
    The guest cottage was charming, almost a scaled-down model of the main house. Spacious and tastefully decorated, the living room contained an overstuffed floral print sofa and two side chairs upholstered in a lime green fabric, one with a matching ottoman. Satin throw pillows were tossed here and there, and a crystal vase filled with fresh flowers was set on one of the end tables. An enormous carved bookcase with beveled glass doors took up an entire wall, and there was a small kitchen, large enough for a table and two chairs.
    “I—I don’t really need much,” Lily stammered, her hands behind her back at the door.
    Although the cottage was attractively decorated, Richard felt an overwhelming sense of despair. He spotted dozens of pictures of Shana on the walls, beginning at infancy and working their way to what must be a fairly recent shot. The image Lily presented in public differed greatly from the person