him if it was intended for you?”
“I owed him.” Owed him a debt he could never repay.
“Owed him what?”
Hadn’t Brett told her? “I killed our parents.”
Her brow pleated. “Your parents died in a car accident.”
“With me at the wheel.”
Sympathy softened her eyes. “I thought a drunk driver ran a stop light.”
“He did, but if I hadn’t shot off as soon as the light turned green, if I’d looked twice before accelerating into the intersection instead of being the lead-foot my dad always accused me of being—”
She returned to the table, slid into the chair at a right angle to his and laid her soft hand over his clenched fist. His words dried up. “Sawyer, the accident wasn’t your fault. Brett showed me the newspaper article. The other driver didn’t have on his headlights. You couldn’t possibly have seen him.”
Her touch burned his skin. He sucked in a deep breath. She snatched her hand back and tucked it into her lap as if she regretted the gesture, but the imprint of her fingers lingered.
Since Brett’s death Lynn had quit wearing her heavy perfume, and God help him, he could smell her. Her light honeysuckle scent was ten times more potent than perfume anyday. She’d also quit teasing her hair into that just-out-of-bed, sex-kitten style. Today she’d brushed it in a satiny wave over her shoulders. His hands itched to tumble her hair into the same disarray it had been when he’d made love to her on the stairs. Not made love, he corrected, had sex. Making love implied he had lingering feelings for Lynn from their earlier relationship, and he didn’t.
Clearing his throat, he refocused on the jewelry box, digging around until he uncovered his mother and father’s wedding bands. He closed his fingers around them, feeling the loss of his parents as if it had been yesterday instead of ten years ago, and then his mother’s last words rang in his ears. Take care of Brett. Whatever you do, don’t let them separate our family.
He opened his hand to study the intricately carved bands and traced the pattern on his mother’s ring.
Lynn leaned closer. “They’re lovely. The engraving is quite unusual.”
“Brett said you refused to wear Mom’s wedding band.”
Lynn’s brows arched in surprise. “I never saw the rings before this week.”
He lifted the smaller band. “He didn’t offer this to you?”
Pain clouded her sky-blue eyes and she looked away. “No. Maybe he wanted to keep the set together. You know Brett chose not to wear a wedding band.”
It didn’t make sense. Brett had begged for the pocket watch and the rings, and yet it would seem his brother had never used any of the pieces.
A delicate silver locket caught Sawyer’s attention. He set the rings back in the box and picked up the locket, flicking it open to reveal two tiny pictures, one of him as an infant and the other of Brett as a three-year-old. “This belonged to my mother. She always planned to give it to her granddaughter, if there was one someday.”
His gaze met hers and then traveled slowly over her breasts to her flat belly. His child—his daughter—could be growing inside Lynn. His chest tightened, and he lifted his gaze to hers once more. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Her lipstick was long gone. The need to lean across the distance and touch his mouth to the softness of hers blindsided him. He sucked in a slow breath and sat back in his chair.
Neither of them spoke of the baby she might be carrying, but the knowledge and the tension stretched between them. He couldn’t explain the mixture of emotions clogging his throat. Fear? Excitement? Dread? Anticipation?
Lynn’s fingers curled on the edge of the tabletop until her knuckles turned white, and then she stood and carried her cup to the sink. “If you ever have a daughter, I’m sure she’d be proud to wear the locket. It’s lovely.”
The other items in the box held less value, but Sawyer found a favorite pocket knife he thought he’d lost in high school and the ID bracelet his ex-fiancée had given him. Why did Brett have these? And why had he tossed each piece in a cheap box like yard-sale junk?
Lynn paused behind his shoulder. “These are your memories, Sawyer. They should stay in your family.”
“The Riggan family will end with me—unless you’re carrying the next generation. When will you know if you’re pregnant?”
Eyes wide, she stared at him and then her gaze darted away. Her face paled as quickly as it had flushed. “In a week or so, but let’s not borrow trouble.”
“You’ll tell me as soon as you know.” It wasn’t a question.
She hesitated and his heart stuttered. “Yes.”
“Do you want a baby?”
Worry clouded her eyes. She took a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted children, but the timing couldn’t be worse. And not knowing who—” She bit her lip and tucked her chin.
“I’ll stand by you, Lynn—no matter whose child it is.”
“Um…thank you.” She didn’t look reassured.
The doorbell rang. She frowned and turned.
“That should be dinner. I called the Chinese place while you were upstairs.” Sawyer rose and strode past her to the front door. She remained in the kitchen while he paid and tipped the delivery man and returned. He set the bag on the counter and opened it. Tantalizing aromas filled the room.
“You didn’t have to buy dinner.” Lynn inhaled deeply and then licked her lips.
Hunger for Lynn replaced his need for food. He gritted his teeth and reminded himself why he’d called the restaurant. “You need to eat. You’ve lost weight.”
Her spine stiffened. “That’s not your concern.”
“I’m making it mine.”
Three
A polished woman in her fifties guarded the closed door with Sawyer Riggan, CEO, engraved on the name-plate.
Lynn swallowed her nervousness and crossed the threshold of the office. “Excuse me. I’m Lynn Riggan. I’d like to see Sawyer.”
The woman’s frank appraisal made Lynn want to fidget. She clutched her purse tighter when what she really wanted to do was smooth her French twist and straighten the skirt of her fitted emerald-green dress. She shifted her weight in her three-inch heels, hating the clothes Brett had chosen for her, but until she could afford to replace them she was stuck.
The woman rose. “I’m Opal Pugh, Sawyer’s assistant. I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Riggan.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, Opal.” This was the woman Brett had referred to as Sawyer’s dragon lady.
“I’ll see if
