Page 15 of Beach Cottage Kisses

No matter how strongly Scott felt the sting of prosecuting a woman whose husband had committed the same moral crime as Scott, he had to stick with the prosecutable facts.

He’d married a woman, promised to be her partner and then deserted her, chaining her to an empty, lonely life. And she’d left him. No matter how angry she’d been, how hurt, how much she’d probably hated him, she hadn’t tried to murder him.

And he couldn’t let a personal issue interfere with his duty to provide justice.

He was staring at his screen again. Knew his argument was strong. Solid.

And the rest…

His brief was done.

Iris was still there. Taking up mental space in his office.

His way forward, to be accountable for the distress he’d caused, was to avoid future failure.

A process he’d set in motion the night before.

“So, now that we’ve established that there’s no risk of us suddenly falling madly in love, are we okay?” she’d asked.

They were.

He’d smiled.

So had she. His mind conjured up the image of her grin the night before.

Which led his inner gaze to her lips.

And his body jumped on board.

Big-time.

There were women who could help with that. He had no shortage of date prospects.

The idea didn’t appeal at the moment.

Felt sleazy.

His body concurred.

And all was well.

Driving across the bridge from San Diego to Coronado Island on Wednesday, Iris couldn’t help but smile. Blue skies and sunshine above, waves beneath her for the two-mile-long stretch and memory of time on the beach with Scott the night before.

Scott as he’d always been.

Charming. Caring. Engaged. There.

And not at all weird.

He’d finished his brief. The judge had ruled in his favor. Iris had shown him the photos she’d taken that day—a series of dogs up for adoption—and he’d been so moved by the portrayal, he’d emailed one to a woman he knew in his office who’d already put in for adoption.

He’d said that she’d caught the sweet boy at just the right moment, somehow depicting his longing to be loved.

Probably because her heart lived behind her lens, not that she told him so. It wasn’tthemconversation and there was no way she was going to risk a relapse.

She’d fought too long and hard to find an acceptable level of happiness without her other half in the world.

She was still smiling as she walked out onto the beach, cameras and lighting in cases on her back, and set up for the day-long shoot of Navy SEALs in training. Photos that had been commissioned for a brochure.