"You said you like traveling for research. How about for author signings?"

"They can be good sometimes." There was no further explanation, so I decided to move on. I noticed that here seemed to be certain subjects that bothered her. A couple of times she had glossed over the subject of book signings. I was curious, but said nothing.

"Why mysteries?"

"I think it's because I have an adventurous side to me that I've never been able to act upon. Deep down I'm Indiana Jones. Writing mysteries allows me to act on some of that, in an armchair sort of way. It's also why I wanted to join you in your search. It's a real adventure, one that I can actually live. Even if it turns out to be a dead end, it will have been worth it."

It was after eight, so we headed back to the room. We took turns showering, washing off the day of airports, rental cars, and Izzy's rooms. Sabrina had asked for two double beds, which was okay with me. I was still crazy about her and was hoping something could develop, but over dinner I had formed a different kind of bond with her—something of a deeper nature. I was willing to let our relationship—whatever it turned out to be—take its own course. Not that it wouldn't be difficult sleeping knowing that she wasn't much more than six feet away.

I was also happy to see that Ms. World-Famous Writer seemed a little unsure of what to do. I sensed some very real sexual tension in the air, but there was something refreshing about not acting on it. And I think she thought so too.

We were both exhausted. It suddenly occurred to me that I had had practically no sleep the night before—or the night before that, for that matter—so we decided to table the log book and papers until the morning, when we would be fresh. Our weariness had dampened the urgency to go through everything. I think we were both asleep in minutes.

*****

I heard Sabrina stirring at about seven, as she got up to use the bathroom and take a shower. While she was in the bathroom, I checked emails on my phone. I had two from my former boss letting me know—in his usual unsubtle, obscenity-laden way—that the way I left was unprofessional. No argument there. It was. However, as I read his threats of blackballing me from ever working in that industry again, I had to smile. First, I had no intention of ever joining that industry again, and second, he was a jerk and an idiot. I had no regrets.

I also had a short email from Mo, wishing me well on my search, and telling me to be careful. I sent my mother an email just to let her know that I was out of town and that things were going well, and that I was staying safe.

Sabrina emerged from the bathroom a half hour later, hair back in a ponytail, and once again taking my breath away. If she kept doing that, I was going to suffocate. She apologized for taking so long, and I made some stupid comment about the result being worth it, which made us both blush a bit. Then I took my turn in there, spending only a fraction of the time Sabrina did. Of course, the results were nowhere near as successful, either.