Sam. Alonso. And he’s cost me nothing of value.” Her voice was flat. Hopefully it disguised the pain.
He tilted his head again, considering. “Been practicing your target shooting, I see.”
“Alonso has been accepted as a resident at Castillo House. You might as well get used to seeing him on the island.”
“In my jail cell, maybe.”
Every nerve inside her tightened. The work Logan Drake and his wife, Annie, had accomplished in the past year at Castillo House with homeless and troubled youth had drawn attention from Delaney and her colleagues—enough attention that she’d swallowed the fact the program was located on Sam’s turf and approached them about Alonso.
And Castillo House was Alonso’s last chance to avoid jail time. The judge was out of patience where the boy’s probation was concerned.
“Not without cause, Samson. Even you don’t stoop that low, do you?”
Despite the music, the chatter, the revelry all around them, the silence between the two of them lengthened, thickened. “Crediting me with some integrity?” he finally asked. “There’s a change.”
She exhaled slowly, reining in a wealth of frustration and other emotions she didn’t even want to put a name to. “Here.” She pushed the envelope that contained the delicate wedding ring at him. “I don’t know why you marked the envelope ‘return to sender’ in the first place. What kind of game you’re—”
“It was never a game with you. A game would have been fun. Enjoyable.”
The sentiment was nothing she hadn’t already known.
It still hurt.
“Then I’d think you’d be heartily glad to have this back.” She wriggled the envelope, wishing he’d just take the thing.
“What’s got you so anxious all of a sudden?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Sudden? I’ve tried sending this to you more than once!” She’d even tried a courier, to no avail.
“Maybe you should’ve taken the hint.”
“What hint? That you want no reminders of our time together? I’m sure you don’t. But the ring is—”
“Yours,” he said flatly. “Even if you are doing something official now.”
She blinked at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His head lowered another inch toward her and she steeled herself not to shift away. “Why now, Delaney?”
There was a burning deep behind her eyes. Her foot slid back. She shifted and glanced past him. Sara approached, bearing two plastic cups, filled to the brim, no doubt, with punch. “You’re not the only one who’s moving on, Sam.” Some were just better at it than others.
His lips twisted. “Anyone I know?”
“Is it any of your business?”
“I think so.” The envelope crinkled in his grip. “But let me guess. Your esteemed associate, Chadly Do-Wright.”
Sam had never liked Chad Wright. Of course the reverse could be said, too. Chad had never particularly cared for Sam. If she’d known how things would end, she’d have paid more heed to Chad’s sensible arguments from the start. Instead, she’d followed her heart.
Sam suddenly reached out, drawing the lock of hair away from her face. She stiffened her knees.
Not even her heart, she mentally corrected. She’d followed something far more base where Sam was concerned.
And people thought only men were ruled by lust. Now that was a serious joke.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he slipped his fingers along the strand of hair again. His knuckles brushed her temple. Her cheek.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Afraid Do-Wright wouldn’t approve?” His fingertips slowly grazed the circle of her ear, taking extraordinary care in tucking the hair behind it.
“It’s Chad.” Her voice stalled altogether when his fingers glided along her jaw, and his thumb tucked beneath her chin, inexorably forcing it upward. She closed her eyes, then dragged her lids upward again, afraid of betraying any additional weakness.
She heard his tsk, even though it was half under his breath. “Look at you. As trussed-up as ever. At least, you’re trying to be. Double-breasted suit. Hair in a knot. Only, you want to unbutton the suit, don’t you. And your hair’s falling down. Has Chad seen this side of you?”
“The crossing was windy.”
His thumb slid over her lips, pressing them closed. “Ninety minutes on the open water. It usually is windy.”
“Sam,” her lips moved against the callused pad of his thumb. “The ring—”
“Screw the ring,” he said flatly. Then his thumb moved and his head lowered. His mouth covered hers, inhaling the gasp of shock she couldn’t prevent. His hand went behind her neck, preventing her from jumping back.
There was no love in the kiss. She knew it. He knew it.
He was angry. Twenty-one months hadn’t seemed to change that fact one bit.
And he still tasted like the darkest, sweetest sin to ever exist as the kiss went on and on. Her body burned as she helplessly kissed him back.
She swayed when he finally let her free. Delaney was barely aware of the shock on Sara’s face, or the stares of everyone else around them. She wanted to slap him. Kick him.
“That was uncalled for,” she said hoarsely. “Absolutely.”
“You’re kidding, right?” His lips stretched in a humorless smile, and he suddenly turned around, facing the gaping onlookers.
His voice rose, so everyone could hear. “My wife, Delaney, finally comes to Turnabout, the least I can do is greet her with a kiss. Wouldn’t you all agree?”
Chapter 2
My wife.
Some deep instinct made Delaney lock her knees as Sam’s comment rang in the sudden silence. If she’d had any doubt that Sam ever told anyone from Turnabout, his hometown, about their excruciatingly brief fiasco of a marriage, the shocked faces all around them removed it.
He’d turned back to her and was looking at her mouth. Despite the audience and her desire to tear out her hair and scream at him for this game he was playing, her lips tingled all over again.
And it was irritation at that, that got her moving again. She slapped the envelope against his chest. “You know we’re no longer married,” she snapped softly.
He exhaled sharply, turned and strode away.
The envelope fell.
She
