the front door. Her invitation to leave couldn’t have been clearer.
“Lynn—”
“Please, Sawyer, I just can’t do this right now. Go home.”
She looked ready to collapse, so he didn’t argue. “We’re not finished.”
Two
“You’re saying the situation is worse than I thought?” Lynn perched on the edge of her chair across from Mr. Allen, the estate lawyer. Her nails dug into her palms, and her stomach clenched into a tight knot. An hour’s worth of legal terminology spun in a confusing mass in her head.
The older gentleman regarded her somberly through his wire-rimmed bifocals from across his wide cherry desk. The richly furnished office smelled like money. Ironically, he’d just told her she had none.
“Your husband’s estate is heavily burdened with debt, Mrs. Riggan. You’ll have to liquidate your assets to cover those debts. As far as I can ascertain the thirty-percent share of Riggan CyberQuest you’ve inherited is your only debt-free asset.”
Lynn gulped her rising panic and stiffened her spine. “So I should sell Brett’s share of the company?”
“Yes, if you hope to have anything to live off, but your brother-in-law has right of first refusal should you choose to sell.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Sawyer will want to buy Brett’s share.”
Mr. Allen shuffled the papers in front of him until she thought her nerves would snap. “You have rights of survivorship on your home which means you can sell it without waiting for the estate to be settled, and I would highly recommend you do so before the bank takes action, since your payments are past due. I’ll have my secretary give you the names of several reputable estate appraisers. You can have your household items assessed and then choose one of the estate men to help you divest yourself of anything of value.”
She clenched her hands to stop their trembling and nodded. The tasks ahead seemed insurmountable, but Brett’s share of the company should give her enough to start over and to get an education so she could support herself.
The attorney continued, “You’ve provided receipts showing you’ve paid for the funeral services, and yet the money wasn’t withdrawn from any of your bank accounts.”
Lynn twisted her plain gold wedding band around her finger. “No, I returned a gift my husband had recently bought…for me and used that money.”
If second thoughts about their reconciliation hadn’t driven her from the bed after their intimate encounter would she have ever known about Brett’s mistress?
She’d picked up her husband’s suit from the floor the way she’d done dozens of times before, but this time a jewelry box had fallen from his coat pocket and sprung open to reveal a huge diamond ring. She’d been touched—not because she’d liked the gaudy ring, but because she’d believed the gift signified a new start to their troubled marriage. The inscription inside the platinum band had crushed her hopes. “To Nina with love, Brett.” At that moment her worst fears had been proven. Her husband had been unfaithful.
Stunned, she’d looked at Brett, and he’d concocted a story—he always had a story—about buying the ring for her and then deciding it wasn’t her style. He’d claimed he planned to return it the next day and had even produced the receipt to prove his point. The worst part was that she probably would have swallowed his lies again if she hadn’t read the inscription. He claimed the jeweler had made a mistake, but she knew better. Finally, the rose-colored glasses had shattered, and she could see the lie in his eyes.
If she hadn’t been so angered by her own gullibility and lashed out at him verbally, egged on by years of broken dreams, would he still be alive? She’d screamed at him to get out of the house, vowing to file the divorce papers the next day. He’d stormed out, and less than an hour later the police had knocked on her door to tell her Brett was dead.
When it had become clear that there wasn’t any money to pay for the funeral, she’d returned the ring to the jeweler’s. His mistress’s ring had cost more than ten thousand dollars. Her own ring, a plain gold band, had cost one hundred, which only went to show how much he valued her.
How had she been so blind? So stupid?
“Mrs. Riggan?” Mr. Allen’s quiet voice interrupted her self-castigation.
She jerked to attention. “Yes?”
“I have one more suggestion. Seek employment as soon as possible.”
Lynn had ducked him for the last time. He would see her today, dammit.
Sawyer ground his teeth and navigated through the congestion in Lynn and Brett’s normally quiet neighborhood on Saturday morning. During the past week he’d left enough messages on Lynn’s answering machine to fill a book. Sure, she’d returned his calls, but she’d left brief messages on his home answering machine when she knew he’d be at work, rather than call him at the office and speak to him directly.
How could he take care of her if he couldn’t even talk to her and find out what she needed?
He’d given her time because the memory of her taste, of the slick heat of her body clenching his and her gasps of passion still haunted his dreams, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with avoiding him any longer.
He turned onto her street, and traffic slowed to a crawl. The For Sale sign by the curb jolted him, but the Yard Sale sign sent his heart slamming against his ribs.
His brother’s belongings lay scattered across the lawn and driveway. Scavengers hunted through the entrails of Brett’s life. Rage boiled in Sawyer’s chest. Brett had only been gone ten days, and Lynn seemed determined to erase his existence.
Pulling into a spot by the curb, Sawyer threw open his car door and stalked toward Lynn. Her pale-yellow shorts and sleeveless sweater skimmed her curves in a way guaranteed to make any red-blooded male stand up and take notice. Her bare arms and legs were sleek, tanned and toned, and the V-neck of her sweater revealed a mouthwatering hint of cleavage. Her hair cascaded down her back like polished gold, and she’d outlined her mouth in deep pink—the same shade he’d kissed off her lips. His libido stirred, but right now his anger edged out his primeval response by a slim margin.
She glanced up from her cash box and their gazes met. Wariness filled her eyes.
“What are you doing?” He managed not to shout, but fury vibrated in his voice.
Her white teeth dug into her bottom lip. “I’m selling items I won’t have room for when I move to a smaller place.”
“Those are Brett’s books, his golf clubs, his clothes.”
“Sawyer, I’m sorry. I should have warned you about the yard sale.”
“Hell, you have everything he owned out here.” He fought the urge to sweep it all up and carry it back into the house.
Lynn winced and glanced over her shoulder, making him aware that several shoppers had stopped to eavesdrop shamelessly. Catching her elbow, he ushered her to the side of the lawn.
She focused soft, sympathetic
