er, I was bac
Claire Anderson, lead architect on the new
tral Park. The air was cool, the city lights a gl
ing me a story about his disastrous attempt at sailing. I w
And ther
n Ca
is suit, but the same easy confidence, the same dark hair.
ing a shift, put a light hand on the small
id, my voice cold
lickered from my face to Julian' s hand
oice was a low rumble th
d, my tone flat.
e back," he said, igno
ack for a we
uld have
uld I d
d. He looked lost. Then his eyes ha
ng into his tone. The same tone he used in high schoo
extended a hand. "Julian Cro
me, invading my space. "You need to be careful, Cla
that a laugh escaped my lips.
e me?"
ilky voice said f
his. She looked me up and down, a faint, condescending smile on her
buried for a decade f
king him straight in the eye. "I learned a
ook Julian's arm, and walke