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around. She experienced a little shock when her gaze met Dillon’s. She had forgotten he was there.

      “I…yes, I’m all right.”

      “Maybe you ought to turn in. You’ve had a rough couple of days, and tomorrow isn’t going to be a piece of cake either.”

      “Tomorrow?”

      “You meet with your attorney to settle the estate and see where you stand financially. Remember?”

      “Oh, yes. That. I’d forgotten.”

      Emily eyed Dillon’s relaxed posture. She had expected him to leave with the others, or at least soon after. Instead he looked as though he had settled in for a long stay.

      “You’re probably right.”

      She climbed to her feet, but when Dillon failed to do the same she paused. “Uh, thank you for your help, with the funeral arrangements and all. I really appreciate everything you’ve done these past couple of days.” She began edging toward the door, hoping he’d take the hint. Dillon just continued to watch her from beneath those hooded eyes.

      “No thanks necessary.”

      “Yes, well…thanks anyway.”

      She edged another few inches closer to the door, but still he didn’t move. Emily shifted from one foot to the other and clasped and unclasped her hands. Finally she decided that the best way to deal with Dillon was head-on.

      “Uh, I don’t mean to be rude, but as you said, I probably ought to try to get some sleep.”

      “Good idea.”

      Relief poured through her. With a nod, she turned and started for the foyer again, but his next words brought her up short.

      “If you need anything, I’ll be in the guest room across the hall from you.”

      She whirled around. “What?”

      “You shouldn’t be alone right now. So I’ll be staying here for a few days. I put my bag in the guest room earlier.”

      “No, really, that’s not necessary. If I’d wanted company I would’ve let Ila Mae spend the night. I really do prefer to be alone.”

      “That may be, but I’m staying.”

      Emily’s nerves began to jump. As her anxiety grew she forgot all about caution. “Look, Dillon, you don’t understand. I don’t want you here. In case it hasn’t occurred to you, at the moment I’m not feeling all that well-disposed toward any male with the name Maguire.”

      Unfolding himself from his slouched position, he slowly rose to his feet. He towered over her, his face carved in granite. “I’m not Keith, Emily,” he said in a voice that cut like honed steel.

      Belatedly, she realized that butting heads with Dillon perhaps wasn’t the wisest course of action. He was the strong, silent type, but when aroused he had a formidable temper.

      In the best of times he intimidated her, and at the moment she was feeling too shaky and beaten down to even attempt to do battle. “Look, I appreciate the offer. Really, I do. But it’s unnecessary. I’m fine.”

      “How about the baby? Is he fine?”

      She sucked in a sharp breath and gaped at him, and once again her hand went automatically to her stomach. “How did you—?”

      “Keith called me from his car a couple of hours before he died.”

      Emily’s shoulders slumped. She sank down onto the arm of a nearby chair and cupped her hand over her forehead. She should have known. Though they had been as opposite in personality as any two men could be, Keith and Dillon had always been close.

      “I see,” she said finally. “Well, if it will put your mind at ease, the baby is fine. So you see, there’s really no reason for anyone to stay.”

      “Give it up, Emily. I’m not leaving.”

      “Why are you doing this?” she snapped in frustration. “You don’t even like me.”

      For an interminable time he simply stared at her. Then he tipped his head toward the stairway in the foyer. “Go to bed, Emily. I’ll see you in the morning.”

      She opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. With a sigh, she turned and headed for the stairs. She simply didn’t have the strength to do battle with him right now.

      Dillon remained where he was and watched her go. When she was out of sight he walked over to the drinks cart and poured himself two fingers of Jack Daniels from the crystal decanter. He tossed back half the drink in one gulp, then refilled the glass and wandered over to the window.

      He gazed past his reflection into the gloomy night. Sometime since they’d left the cemetery a Texas “blue norther” had blown in, turning the weather nasty. Wind whipped the bare trees into a frenzy and sleet clicked against the window panes. Dillon sipped his drink, his face somber, Emily’s last words ringing in his head.

      You don’t even like me.

      He snorted. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that she believed that. In a way, by his actions these past seven years—avoiding her whenever he could, keeping his distance during family gatherings—he had made it appear that way.

      Dillon turned away from the window and ambled over to the arched doorway. He leaned a shoulder against the jamb and looked up the stairway in the direction of Emily’s bedroom. How would she react, he wondered, if she knew the truth—that all these years, since before his brother had swept her off her feet, he had been in love with her.

      And that the baby she carried was not Keith’s, as she believed. It was his.

      Chapter Two

      Emily had barely slept since Keith’s death, and that night was no different. Merely knowing that Dillon was across the hall made her uncomfortable, but mostly it was grief and anger that kept sleep at bay.

      She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, tormenting herself, imagining her husband with his mistress, laughing with her, kissing her. Making love to her.

      Why, Keith? she asked over and over. Why? How could you do this to me when you claimed to love me?

      Had she missed something? Had there been signs all along? Subtle indications that her marriage was in trouble? Emily scoured her memory and spent hours soul-searching, but over and over she came up empty.

      Keith had seemed perfectly happy with their life together. They never fought, rarely ever exchanged so much as a cross word. They enjoyed each other’s company, and their sex life was good.

      He had often talked about their future, how, someday he would take a leave from his practice and they would spend a whole summer traveling through Europe, and how when he retired they’d buy a boat and sail around the world.

      Emily frowned. Was that it? Could he have been worried that having a child would tie them down?

      That didn’t

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