Grayson-Maxwell and her family’s fall from grace; there was very little about Nate at all. He was about to close the window when another name caught his eye. He zeroed in on the single sentence that would change his life.
Talia Vega, who declined to be interviewed for this article, left Seattle after David Maxwell’s death and now lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.
They say lightning doesn’t strike twice, but he could feel it, blazing through him.
Of course.
She was to be his first. Why had he never realized it before? All along he’d been copying the master but never thought to look for the lone survivor. The woman whose image was burned into his brain, inspiring him all along.
A sense of peace settled over him, washing away the bitter taste of failure. He hadn’t failed, he realized. The others were practice, necessary for him to get every last step correct before he moved to the next level.
Though her address and phone were unlisted, it took him less than an hour to find both.
She lived in Palo Alto. For the last eight months, she’d lived less than five miles from the Stanford campus where he spent 90 percent of his waking hours.
To find out she lived so close… it was like the hand of God steering him in the right direction.
A voice screamed in his head for him to go to her, tonight. He stifled it. He wasn’t ready for her yet. He hadn’t achieved perfection yet. And for her, he needed to be perfect.
The next three days passed without incident, and Talia pushed aside the urge to call Jack. What could he do? Help her change her number? The horse had already left the barn with that one, but Talia had canceled the house phone service anyway, just in case Fitzhugh was inclined to keep bothering her.
As her life settled back into its soothingly predictable pattern, Talia pushed the phone call out of her mind. The fact that the reporter had tracked her down had nothing to do with the possible break-in. Nevertheless, when Rosie had called for her nightly check-in, Talia warned her about the guy just in case. No reason to dredge it all up again, she’d told her sister, and you could never rely on them not to twist your words into something you never meant to say.
Susie came in on a cloud of perfume and plopped herself onto a bar stool. Talia looked up from wiping glasses in preparation for the happy-hour crowd.
“Finally, a moment alone,” Susie said, a little breathless. “Time for you to dish, sister.”
Talia’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “About what?
Susie opened her mouth in mock exasperation. “Hello? About that prime piece of man meat who was parading through here the other night.”
“Jack?” Talia said.
“Of course Jack.”
“There’s nothing going on between me and Jack,” Talia said forcefully as she turned to check the back bar supplies. “He helped me out of a really rough spot, but that’s it.”
Talia could see Susie’s reflection in the mirror as her eyes narrowed under her perfectly arched brows. “So you’re telling me there’s absolutely nothing romantic between you.”
“Not even remotely,” Talia said firmly, ignoring the faint bitterness the words left in her mouth.
“Then you don’t mind if I call him, try to get together when he’s in town.”
“Of course not,” Talia said, pasting a bright smile on her face. Yet she couldn’t suppress the curl of something—it wasn’t jealousy, dammit!—at the thought of Jack’s big, dark hands tangled in Susie’s blond hair as he bent to kiss her…“He’s not even my type!” Talia said, then snapped her mouth closed at Susie’s speculative look.
“Oh, please, he’s so much more your type than that nerd you were dating last winter.”
“Just because he was a calculus professor doesn’t make him a nerd.”
“No, but the milky complexion and delicate girl hands did,” Susie scoffed.
Talia rolled her eyes. “Whatever. In any case, the point is moot, because even if Jack were my type, I’m
Talia Vega, who declined to be interviewed for this article, left Seattle after David Maxwell’s death and now lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.
They say lightning doesn’t strike twice, but he could feel it, blazing through him.
Of course.
She was to be his first. Why had he never realized it before? All along he’d been copying the master but never thought to look for the lone survivor. The woman whose image was burned into his brain, inspiring him all along.
A sense of peace settled over him, washing away the bitter taste of failure. He hadn’t failed, he realized. The others were practice, necessary for him to get every last step correct before he moved to the next level.
Though her address and phone were unlisted, it took him less than an hour to find both.
She lived in Palo Alto. For the last eight months, she’d lived less than five miles from the Stanford campus where he spent 90 percent of his waking hours.
To find out she lived so close… it was like the hand of God steering him in the right direction.
A voice screamed in his head for him to go to her, tonight. He stifled it. He wasn’t ready for her yet. He hadn’t achieved perfection yet. And for her, he needed to be perfect.
The next three days passed without incident, and Talia pushed aside the urge to call Jack. What could he do? Help her change her number? The horse had already left the barn with that one, but Talia had canceled the house phone service anyway, just in case Fitzhugh was inclined to keep bothering her.
As her life settled back into its soothingly predictable pattern, Talia pushed the phone call out of her mind. The fact that the reporter had tracked her down had nothing to do with the possible break-in. Nevertheless, when Rosie had called for her nightly check-in, Talia warned her about the guy just in case. No reason to dredge it all up again, she’d told her sister, and you could never rely on them not to twist your words into something you never meant to say.
Susie came in on a cloud of perfume and plopped herself onto a bar stool. Talia looked up from wiping glasses in preparation for the happy-hour crowd.
“Finally, a moment alone,” Susie said, a little breathless. “Time for you to dish, sister.”
Talia’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “About what?
Susie opened her mouth in mock exasperation. “Hello? About that prime piece of man meat who was parading through here the other night.”
“Jack?” Talia said.
“Of course Jack.”
“There’s nothing going on between me and Jack,” Talia said forcefully as she turned to check the back bar supplies. “He helped me out of a really rough spot, but that’s it.”
Talia could see Susie’s reflection in the mirror as her eyes narrowed under her perfectly arched brows. “So you’re telling me there’s absolutely nothing romantic between you.”
“Not even remotely,” Talia said firmly, ignoring the faint bitterness the words left in her mouth.
“Then you don’t mind if I call him, try to get together when he’s in town.”
“Of course not,” Talia said, pasting a bright smile on her face. Yet she couldn’t suppress the curl of something—it wasn’t jealousy, dammit!—at the thought of Jack’s big, dark hands tangled in Susie’s blond hair as he bent to kiss her…“He’s not even my type!” Talia said, then snapped her mouth closed at Susie’s speculative look.
“Oh, please, he’s so much more your type than that nerd you were dating last winter.”
“Just because he was a calculus professor doesn’t make him a nerd.”
“No, but the milky complexion and delicate girl hands did,” Susie scoffed.
Talia rolled her eyes. “Whatever. In any case, the point is moot, because even if Jack were my type, I’m
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