The balcony air still carried the words.
Now we've got a problem.
Caleb watched her stand at the railing, one gloved hand resting flat against the cold stone. The black dress moved against her ribs with each breath. The green strand in her dark hair caught the gala lights from below.
She wasn't looking at him anymore. Her attention had moved to the lower foyer.
"Hassek's two minutes from the main staircase," she said. Her voice had dropped back to the operational register. The eleven-year revelation was gone, packed back into whatever compartment she kept it in. "If he sees us together up here, the rest of the night becomes a different problem."
"Then we split," Caleb said.
"Then we split."
She didn't move.
Neither did he.
The orchids in her perfume cut through the colder mineral wind off the upper terrace. Her shoulder was less than a foot from his arm. He could feel the heat coming off her skin where the dress left her bare.
She turned her head a fraction toward him.
