My morning commute consisted of self-talk about professionalism and self-control. After all, I was an adult and I was certainly capable of behaving like one instead of an adolescent. Nicole Bernard was a beautiful, talented woman who was not looking for a quickie with her assistant. Right? Right.
I parked in my usual spot next to the garage and let myself in the front door. It was beginning to feel like home, sort of. The house was unusually quiet. I checked my watch and it was 10:00 a.m. Her yoga and morning run would be completed. I called her name and then began to look around. The living room, kitchen area, and patio were empty, so I headed down the main hall to the master bedroom. I knocked, and when I got no answer I cracked open the door. “Nicole?”
The bathroom was empty but the d
