something he could have sworn was fear, but then she looked away, her lashes shielding her expression.
Staring at the floor, she chewed her bottom lip for an instant before answering, “We were discussing a fund-raiser and party for the pediatric oncology ward. The planner had a heart attack and they need someone to step in and help.”
Okay, but why was she looking away? “You’re sure that’s all?”
She hesitated a second too long. “What do you mean?”
Fear exploded inside him. “Are you feeling all right?” He clasped her shoulders. “Physically. Is there something wrong? If so, you know I’m here for you. Whatever you need, just tell me.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, shaking her head, tears sliding free.
He reached to sketch his knuckles along her cheeks and capture the tears, hands shaking. “Oh, God, Fiona, is it...” His throat moved in a long swallow. “Do you have...”
She touched his mouth. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Thank you, but you have no reason to feel obligated.”
“Obligated?” He kissed her fingertips. “You are my wife, my responsibility—”
“Please, Henri.” She took his hands from her face and clasped them briefly before letting go. “You are a good man. I’ve never doubted that. This is an emotional time for both of us, and let’s not make it worse with confrontations. Let’s just return to the party.”
He wouldn’t be dismissed so easily. “What were you laughing so hysterically about?” Anger edged through the fear. “And would you like to clue me in on the joke? Because right now I could use something to lighten the mood.”
“No joke,” she said with a sigh, meeting his gaze. “Just so ironic.”
“Then what are you hiding?”
“Henri.” She chewed her bottom lip again, her gaze skipping around evasively before she continued. “Um, he asked me out for a drink to discuss the fund-raiser.”
Henri saw red. Pure red. “He asked you out for a drink? As in a date? Not because of the fund-raiser?”
“Because of the fund-raiser, but yes, he clearly meant a date, as well.” She pulled at her curls, color mounting in her cheeks.
Henri had to stay calm. Had to make it through this conversation. “And what did you say?”
“I told him I’m still married, of course.” Gaze narrowing, she launched the words at him like daggers.
“Clearly that wasn’t a problem for him, since you are wearing my ring.”
She shrugged her shoulders, chandelier earrings swaying. “That didn’t bother him in the least.”
Henri turned toward the door, ready to return to the party and deck the guy straight into the pool.
Fiona placed a hand on his shoulder. “Stop, Henri. He mentioned hearing we’re splitting up. He thought I was available.”
“How would he have heard such a thing?” His mind went back to the original concern. “Were you at the doctor’s office where he’s a partner?”
She swallowed hard. “You seem to have forgotten his brother is our lawyer.”
“Not anymore.”
“I was thinking the same thing, actually.” She picked at her French manicure. “We should get separate attorneys.”
Dammit. This conversation was not going the way he intended. He just wanted to pull her into his arms and take her here. Now. To say to hell with the past and future. No more jealousy or discussion about...hell.
He just wanted her. “This is not the time or the place to talk about lawyers. Enjoy your party and your success.” He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking along her cheeks as he stepped closer, the heat of her lithe body reaching to him. “You’ve raised enough seed money for the shelter tonight. They can start their capital campaign for a whole new building. Let’s celebrate.”
She swayed toward him for an instant, as if she too was caught in that same web of desire. Her gaze fell away from his for a moment, roving his broad-shouldered body, then returned to meet his hungry gaze. There was something there still. He could feel it in the way her lips, slightly parted, seemed to call him to her.
Stepping back abruptly, she grasped the door latch. “Enjoy?” She shook her head, a curl sliding forward over her shoulder. “I don’t think that’s possible. There’s too much left unsettled for me to think about anything but getting my life in order.”
In a swirl of French perfume, she walked out the door and raced along the dock back to the party. The forcefulness of her reaction left him wondering what he was missing, but the speed of her departure closed the door on finding out.
* * *
She couldn’t go back to the party. Not with her emotions in such a turmoil. She hadn’t expected the brief conversation with Tom Carlson to lead to a showdown with her husband. But Tom had seen her come through the office earlier...and he had asked her for a drink. She’d shut him down hard. Even if she weren’t married, she was not in a place emotionally to be in a relationship right now.
Life was getting too complicated. She longed for simpler times again.
Peace.
Family.
So she sought out the last remnants. She loaded a plate of party food onto a tray with two glasses of mint iced tea and went upstairs to Grandpa Leon’s suite. His Alzheimer’s had progressed to the point that he required a round-the-clock nurse to keep watch over him so he didn’t wander off. His nighttime nurse’s aide sat in the study area off his bedroom, reading on her phone. A brunette in her midthirties, she had a warm expression on her face at all times. The perfect temperament for at-home care.
She looked up quickly and set her phone beside her. “Good evening, Mrs. Reynaud. Mr. Leon is on the balcony enjoying the stars over the lake.”
They’d glassed in the balcony so the temperature could be regulated year-round, and he could safely sit outside without fear of him falling—or climbing down as he’d tried to do one evening.
“Thank you,” Fiona said. “Please do feel free to join the party while I visit with Gramps.”
“That sounds lovely. Thank you. I’ll step downstairs for a snack. I’ll be back in a half hour, if that’s all right?”
“Absolutely. Take your time.” Fiona loved her grandfather-in-law and treasured this time with him. His disease was stealing him away and she would soon be gone. Her heart squeezed tighter as she stepped through the open French doors leading to the enclosed balcony.
“Grandpa Leon,” she said softly, adjusting the tray and settling it on the wrought-iron table between two chairs. “I’ve brought you a bite to eat.”
The older man turned, his shock of gray hair whiter every day as if each lost memory stole more of his youth along with the
