‘So what, did you want to throw it in my face that you’re seeing someone else?’

‘I’m not seeing anyone. Including you, apparently.’

They sat in angry silence. They did that a lot. When they were together there was always heat, which was good when they were in bed and bad when they took out their resentment on each other. In some ways it was easier when they were apart. When he’d pursued a murder investigation in Door County in the spring, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Their longing for each other was palpable every time they talked. Then, when he came back to Naples, they’d fallen into their usual pattern. Reaching for each other and then pushing the other away.

Tarla didn’t help. Tarla, with her cutting remarks, trying to drive a wedge between them. His mother feigned innocence, but she didn’t like Lala, and Lala didn’t like her.

He could feel the heat. As angry as they were, they wanted each other. He could almost feel her breasts cupped in his long fingers and hear her telling him what she wanted. If he reached for her, they would kiss, and then they would drive somewhere and make love, and minutes later, they would have their daggers out again. He wondered what it was between them, because it wasn’t just physical. He knew her body as intimately as he’d known any woman; he’d long since memorized every tiny imperfection that made her perfect. The birthmark on the inside of her thigh. The ticklish, knobby bones of her knees. The crescents under her eyes when she’d slept badly that she covered with makeup. She was beautiful, but not in a Hollywood way like Tarla. She was real. She had a real job. She had family she loved and family she hated. She worried about real things: money, kids, storms, death. Being around her made him feel real, too.

‘How’s Tarla?’ Lala asked, getting to the heart of the problem.

‘Tarla is Tarla. She’s never going to change.’

‘Is she still making snarky comments about me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want to tell me what she said?’

‘No. I told her to knock it off, but she won’t. We both know that.’

‘We sure do,’ Lala said.

‘Is that why you didn’t call back? Because I’m with her?’

‘Partly. Of course, I didn’t realize that a weekend with your mother also included tongue time with a leggy brunette.’ She added: ‘Let me guess. Tarla set you up with her.’

‘Yes,’ Cab admitted.

‘Big surprise. Who is she?’

‘Her name’s Caprice Dean.’

Lala’s head turned sharply. ‘Are you kidding me? From the Common Way Foundation?’

‘You know her?’

‘She works with Diane Fairmont, right?’

Cab nodded. ‘Tarla and Diane are best friends. I’ve told you that.’

‘Well, you’re playing in powerful circles, Cab. I guess that’s where you belong.’