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He slid his hand around the back of her neck. She didn't say no or push him away, so he leaned over and covered her mouth with his.
It was a hot kiss on a cold, dark night, and it felt incredibly close to perfect. As he deepened the kiss, they moved closer together, their arms coming around each other in complete accord. There was something so right about kissing her. It was new and exciting, but it also felt completely familiar, as if they'd been kissing each other forever with a hunger that would never go away.
The crashing of the waves perfectly reflected the turmoil of desire building inside of him. But just like the ocean, there was danger within the beauty of the moment. He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to get hurt.
They'd both been fleeing the possibility of that kind of pain for a long time, and now they had crossed a line that they probably couldn't cross back. They'd opened the gates to something amazing and possibly terrifying.
Callie pulled away first, her breath curling up like hot clouds in the chilly air. Her lips were parted, as she drew in a shaky breath, and he wanted back in that warm cavern of heat. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to strip away all the layers between them, get even closer to this beautiful woman who'd stolen the breath out of his chest from the first second he'd seen her.
But Callie was sliding away from him, wrapping the blanket around her like a suit of armor.
He watched her for a long minute, not sure what he wanted to say. She seemed to be suffering from the same lack of words.
"You should probably go," she said finally. "It's getting late."
He nodded, disappointed by the words she'd eventually come up with. On the other hand, they were dancing dangerously close to a precipice. It would be wiser to back away from the edge before things got too complicated. Although, he had a feeling it was already too late for caution.
As she stood up, he also got to his feet, then followed her into the apartment. The bright lights of her home reinforced their return to reality. But it also gave him another chance to look at her, to see the desire still glittering in her eyes.
"Callie," he began.
She shook her head, giving him a warning look. "Let's not talk about it."
"Why not?"
"Because some things should just be what they are in the moment. Tomorrow we have to get back to finding Arthur's killer and proving my mother's innocence. That's what we should focus on. You said noon tomorrow for Palm Springs?"
He was impressed with her immediate return to focus, something he usually excelled at. "Yes. That should work."
"Then I'll see you tomorrow."
"Are you going to be all right here by yourself?"
"I'll be fine."
"You can call me any time," he said, even though he knew she wouldn't call.
"I have your number, but I'm just going to go to bed and hopefully catch up on the sleep I missed last night." She crossed the room and opened the door.
He paused in front of her. "Just for the record—that moment we had was amazing."
"But it shouldn't happen again."
"Maybe it shouldn't," he said, as he walked into the hallway. "But, somehow, I think it will."
* * *
Flynn didn't sleep well, tossing and turning with both thoughts of Callie and questions about Arthur. He got up around seven on Sunday morning and did what he always did when he needed to make sense of his life; he went surfing. He wasn't alone on the ocean. There were dozens of weekend surfers in wetsuits paddling their boards out to the break, but he kept his distance from the crowd, wanting to be on his own.
As he sat on his board, looking for just the right wave, he couldn't help thinking that it wasn't a wave he needed, but some hard leads. He had a few clues: Arthur's second phone, the pictures of the paintings, the mysterious Layana, the Palm Springs property that hadn't come up on the list of Arthur's assets, the calls between Arthur and Gretchen, and Arthur and Marcus Vitelli. There was also Victoria Waltham's suggestion that his father might be back in business, that piece of info allegedly having come from Arthur.
He didn't want his dad in the middle of this. His relationship to Arthur was enough of a conflict of interest. If his father was involved, he'd have to take himself off the case, and even though his team was good, he wanted to lead the investigation.
There was also the issue of the break-in at Arthur's house.Had that person been looking for the phone and the photos or something else entirely? Did they know about the house in Palm Springs? Would it be cleaned out by the time he arrived?
And then there was Callie. Her beautiful face had been in his head all night.
He'd kissed women before to get what he needed in the pursuit of justice. But all he'd wanted last night was her. He didn't know if she believed that. Deep down, she still didn't trust him, and he couldn't completely blame her. He was sending her mixed messages, because he had mixed emotions. Getting personal with her had enabled him to learn things more quickly, but it had also made him vulnerable, because she knew things about him, too. And vulnerability was a weakness in any investigation.