through her. He wore the strangest look on his face, and a great stillness seemed to surround him. The moment felt huge, suddenly.
What in the world did he plan to say to her? Something awful, probably, judging by the seriousness and intensity of his expression.
Reluctantly, she approached him. He simply waited, watching her come.
She stopped a couple of feet from him. “Aren’t you...going to sit down?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t sit. Instead he reached for her hand.
The move surprised her enough that she didn’t jerk away. His fingers closed over hers, warm. Firm. So well remembered. Tears scalded the back of her throat. She pressed her lips together and swallowed them down. “What?”
And just like that, he lifted his other hand and slid a beautiful diamond ring on her finger.
She gasped and gaped down at it, a giant marquise-cut central stone, surrounded by twin rows of glittering smaller stones, more diamonds along the double band.
“Marry me, Clara. Right away. You can move to Denver and we’ll work this out. We’ll make a family for our child.”
She gaped down at that sparkling, perfect, beautiful ring. And then, slowly, her breath all tangled and hot in the base of her throat, she lifted her head and looked at him.
The really terrible, awful thing was, somewhere inside herself, she longed to throw her arms around him and shout yes!
And that made her furious—at herself, as much as at him.
Because who was he, anyway? When he touched her, she felt the thrill, yes. Her body seemed to know him. But her mind and her confused, aching heart?
Uh-uh. No. She didn’t know this man at all.
She pulled her fingers free of his grip and took off the ring. “No, Dalton.”
“Clara...”
“Take it. I mean it.” He shook his head. But he did hold out his hand. She dropped that gorgeous thing into his palm. “No way am I marrying you, let alone moving to Denver. Justice Creek is my home. I have my family, my friends and my very successful business here, so this is where I plan to stay.”
“Listen to me, I—”
“Stop.”
Miraculously, he did.
“We need to get straight on something here right from the start,” she said.
He eyed her sideways as he dropped the ring into his jacket pocket. And then he asked carefully in that voice of his that was so gallingly manly and deep, “By all means. Let’s get it straight. Whatever the hell it is.”
“Are you married or not?”
“Excuse me?” He gazed at her as though he had his doubts as to her sanity. “Married? Me?”
“That’s right. Do you have a wife?”
The blue eyes, impossibly, got even bluer and that square jaw went to rock. “Of course not. I’m divorced, and have been since before the island. And I know that you know this. I told you myself.”
She had to get away, get some distance from him. So she turned and marched over to the fireplace. Better. She straightened her shoulders and turned to face him again. “Look. I saw you, okay? I saw pictures of you online, with your supposedly ex-wife on your arm at some fancy party. The two of you were looking very chummy.”
“Chummy? Astrid and I are not the least bit chummy.”
“You looked pretty damn chummy to me.”
“Astrid is a lovely woman. She’s active in her community, doing what she can to help disadvantaged children and victims of natural catastrophes and such. Occasionally she asks me to support her various causes. I’m happy to help. Once or twice, I’ve acted as her escort.”
“Well, isn’t that civilized?”
“Yes, it is, as a matter of fact. Is there something wrong with being civilized?”
She decided not to answer that one. “There was talk about the two of you getting married again.”
“Talk? Who said that?”
“I don’t know who. It was just...somewhere online, is all.”
“And you always believe everything you read somewhere online?” His eyes were practically shooting sparks.
Ha. As though he were the one who’d been shabbily treated. She wrapped her arms around herself again as she had at the door and held her ground. “Just answer the question. Are you married or not?”
“No.”
“Are you dating your ex-wife?”
“No. I told you, we’re on good terms, Astrid and I. But the marriage is over and it has been since before you and I were together on the island—as I made perfectly clear the first night that we met.”
A small but definite humph escaped her, a sound she honestly hadn’t meant to make.
“I heard that,” he muttered darkly. “And what do you want from me? There is absolutely nothing going on between Astrid and me. We’re cordial. And we’re civil with each other and when she wants help with one of her causes, I do what I can.”
She knew it was petty of her, but she couldn’t resist remarking, “And if I believe that, maybe you’ve got a bridge you want to sell me?”
He regarded her, those laser-blue eyes boring twin holes right through her. “You think I’m lying to you? You think I would come here and ask you to marry me if I was already married?”
Okay, maybe he had a teeny-weeny point there. She tried to dial it back a notch. “You didn’t exactly ask me, Dalton. You told me.” It came out sounding plaintive and she couldn’t decide which was worse: being a raving bitch or coming off as pitiful.
He demanded, “Do you think I’m lying to you?”
“I...” She gave up all pretense of angry defiance, dropping her arms away from her body, letting out a low, sad sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything—not about you. Not really. On the island, you were...like someone else entirely, completely different from how you are now. It’s very disorienting.”
He looked almost stricken. For about half a second. But then his jaw hardened again and his eyes narrowed. “I think you should call Astrid and ask her if there’s anything going on between her and me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me. Did you just say I should call your ex-wife?”
“That is exactly what I said.”
“Not. Going. To. Happen.”
“Why not? Afraid to find out I’m not a lying, cheating
