rested the papers on Sam’s bureau. Her chest ached from the hard beat of her heart and she had to stare hard, read twice, to make sense of the cover letter.
And when she did, the bottom of her stomach seemed to drop out.
The judge had dismissed the petition because the filing had not been properly completed.
“Dismissed on a technicality,” Sam murmured behind her. “Seen it happen time and again in criminal cases.”
Delaney thrust back her hair and read the letter again. But of course the contents hadn’t magically changed just because she was on the verge of losing it.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“When? During our weekly telephone chats?”
Her lips tightened. Until that evening she hadn’t spoken with Sam since the day he’d moved out of their apartment. “You could have called.”
“You’re the one who filed, Delaney,” he reminded, and his even, reasonable tone set her teeth on edge. “Not me. When the time period the judge gave to correct the omissions passed and nothing happened, I figured that was your decision, too. Hope you didn’t pay your lawyer too much, though. Not that you’d miss it, with the Townsend family bank account at your disposal, but—”
“Stop it.” She whirled around to face him, managing to scatter the papers across the smooth wood surface. If she had used the Townsend attorney, none of this would be happening now. But she’d been determined to keep the matter in her control, and look at the results.
“Suppose you want to call Do-Wright.”
She started. Chad. The furthest person from her mind. “We’re still married.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re still married.”
“Are you shooting for the say-it-three-times-and-click-your-heels thing? It’s not going to change things, and there’s no Good Witch on Turnabout who can wave a magic wand.”
“How nice you find this amusing, Sam. What if I’d—”
“Already walked the white carpet with Do-Wright?” The corner of his lip lifted. “Would have put an interesting title behind your name. Might have caused some curiosity with your colleagues. Bigamy—”
“Stop!” She launched herself at him, pushing at his chest. Some part of her sane self watched on in horror. “Can’t you take anything seriously for once?”
He’d barely swayed from her attack. “I take plenty of things seriously,” he assured. “Just not you marrying Chad Wright. What the hell were you thinking, Delaney? He gives bland new meaning. He’ll bore you to tears.”
“He’s not boring, he’s calm.”
“He’s a wimp and you’ll walk all over him.”
“We’re in perfect accord with our plans.”
“Which include what? Working side by side seventy hours of the week? Hell, baby, you already did that without being married to him.”
She mentally dragged herself back from being drawn further into a verbal battle. “There’s no point in rehashing the past.”
“Particularly when there was never any initial hashing.”
“We communicated,” she defended.
“We argued and we made love. Two things we did supremely well.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “Can you say the same about Do-Wright?”
She felt the flush rise in her cheeks and damned the fact that it had more to do with the way he looked at her than anything else. “I’ve already said that Chad and I aren’t lovers. I refuse to let you beat me over the head with that.”
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