charming by any stretch of the imagination. The Prince of Darkness was more like it. She shivered as she recalled the way his black eyes had swept over her.
“There is no Prince Charming,” she replied lightly. “Where am I driving you to?”
The address that Collette gave her wouldn’t put Sara too far out of her way. Glancing at the digital clock on the dash, Sara guessed she could drop the other woman off and still be home by midnight. Cinderella, indeed.
They drove for several miles without speaking. Sara cast a furtive glance at Colette, who was humming softly beneath her breath. This had to be the strangest night of her life. “So…you’re friends with Edwin Zachary, huh?”
Colette shot her a sharp glance. “You know him?”
Sara focused on the dark road and tried to keep her voice neutral. “Well, no, I don’t know him. But I recognized him—he’s one of the president’s senior advisors.”
There was a brief silence. “Would you believe me if I told you he’s my uncle?”
Sara gave the woman a tolerant look. “Uh…no.”
“Really, I can explain—”
“Please,” Sara interrupted, putting up a hand. “You’re both adults. What you do is none of my business. I’m not sure I really want to know, anyway.”
“Turn left here,” Colette said, indicating a side street that led into a neighborhood of brick apartment buildings. “You can let me off at the next building.”
When Sara pulled up to the curb, Colette reached for the door handle and then paused. “Listen,” she said, turning to Sarah, “you seem like a nice person. I know this looks bad, but it’s not really a big deal. Men will be men, you know?”
“Sure.” Sara nodded in agreement, just wanting the woman out of her car so she could go home. She forced a smile. “Have a good night.”
Colette sighed, and then pushed the door open. “Thanks for the ride.” As she tried to climb out of the car, the long strap on her purse caught on the emergency brake between the seats. With a small noise of frustration, Colette gave it a sharp yank, but the purse snapped open and spilled its contents across the seat. Colette swore softly.
“Here, let me help you,” Sara said, and leaned over to scoop money and cosmetics back into the pocketbook before handing it to the other woman.
“Thanks,” Colette murmured, still leaning into the car. Her eyes met Sara’s across the seat. Her voice was low and urgent. “Listen…about tonight… Forget what you saw, okay? Go home to whatever upscale little community you come from and go on living your fairy-tale life.” She glanced at her watch. “But you’d better hurry, Cinderella. It’s after midnight.”
2
SARA WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING with gritty eyes and a nagging headache. She’d spent a restless night, the events of the evening replaying themselves over and over again in her head. And when she did finally fall into a restless sleep, sometime around 3:00 a.m., her dreams had been filled with disturbing pImages** of a darkly handsome man, his body moving over hers with strong, sure movements. She’d wanted to protest, to push him away, but there had been no denying the promise in his eyes or the way he’d made her body respond. She’d woken up hot and achy and unfulfilled.
In the kitchen, she flipped on the small television over her counter and mechanically went through the movements of making coffee. She was reaching for a coffee mug when she went still and then closed the cupboard, her attention riveted on the television. A Washington reporter, elegant in a tailored suit and chic hairstyle, stood in front of the emergency entrance of a local hospital.
“Senior White House advisor, Edwin Zachary, was brought here just past midnight last night with minor injuries, after falling asleep and crashing his car on Post Road. He was treated and released early this morning. There were no other occupants in the car at the time of the accident.”
Sara gave a huff of disbelieving laughter. “Fell asleep, my ass,” she muttered, and went into the hallway to retrieve the little evening bag she’d carried last night. She couldn’t wait to call Lauren and tell her about the incident. If anyone would understand the ramifications of what she had witnessed, Lauren would. Sara might not approve of everything Lauren did to get a story, but the woman took her job as an editor very seriously. She would know the best way for Sara to proceed.
Inside the evening bag she found her wallet, a lipstick, and Rafe Delgado’s business card, but no cell phone. It was only then that she recalled dropping it as she’d slammed on the brakes following the accident. Grabbing her keys, she slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops, opened the door to her fourth-floor apartment and made her way swiftly down the staircase.
Her car was parked just a few doors down from her building, and she unlocked it, crouching to check the floor on the passenger side. The carpeting was black, making it difficult to see anything. Ducking her head to peer beneath the seat, Sara caught sight of her cell phone, wedged between the seat and the center console. Stretching her arm, she was straining to reach the phone when her fingers closed around what felt like a small book. Pulling it free, she saw it was a pocket-sized day planner. She retrieved the cell phone and locked her car, and then carried both items back to her apartment. Dropping the planner onto the kitchen table, she quickly dialed her editor.
“Hi Lauren, it’s Sara Sinclair.”
“Sara!” The other woman’s voice sounded groggy and surprised. “You do realize it’s barely eight o’clock on Sunday morning, don’t you?”
“I know. I’m sorry if I woke you up,” Sara apologized. “But I was watching the news and there’s a breaking story I thought you should know about.”
“Go on.” Lauren’s voice sounded slightly less sleepy.
“Edwin Zachary, the White House advisor—”
“I know who he is,” Lauren interrupted. “What about him?”
“He was in a car accident last night. A car accident that I witnessed and stopped to help.”
“What happened? Is he okay?”
Sara tucked a strand of hair behind one ear and reached again for a coffee mug. “He was taken to hospital for some minor injuries, but he’s going to be fine.”
There was a brief silence. “I assume there’s a reason you’ve called to tell me this?”
“The news reports say that he was driving alone and that he fell asleep at the wheel.”
“O-kaay…”
Sara could hear the barely veiled impatience in her editor’s voice. “Well, that’s not what happened. He wasn’t alone and he most definitely did not fall asleep at the wheel. He was with a young woman who was definitely not his wife. After I stopped to help, Mr. Zachary asked me to give her a ride home and not to say anything about it. He even tried to give me money to keep quiet.”
“Really.” Lauren sounded wide-awake now.
“And the reason he crashed his car wasn’t because he fell asleep at the wheel, as the news reports claim,” Sara continued.
