“I remember, but that doesn’t seem to help.”
“Fine, he’s gone.”
“Good.” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “So what happened after I left?”
“We danced.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”
He scowled as if he didn’t want to ask his next question but couldn’t resist. “Did he kiss you?”
Scowling right back at him, she said, “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know.”
One eyebrow shot up. “A simple ‘no’ would be nice. Then maybe I could stop the damn reel of the two of you together that keeps playing in my head.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Okay, if you want to talk about bad images—have you ever been with my sister?”
Even without the lights on, she could see the curl of his lip. “What?”
The answer he had yet to give frightened her so much she had to take a deep breath. “Leanne. Have you ever slept with her?”
“Hell, no! I’ve never even looked at her. God, what do you think I am?”
“I think that’s clear.”
“No, it’s not. You don’t know me if you believe I’d sleep with your sister. Why would you even ask me that?”
Relief finally eased the fear that’d kept her on edge ever since Leanne had shown up in her salon, pretending to have more intimate knowledge of Isaac than she did. “For the same reason you asked me about Owen.”
He glared at her. “You’re jealous.”
“Of course I’m jealous! I’ve loved you for ten years!” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. She hadn’t even realized she was going to say them.
Her confession hung in the air like the scent of gunpowder. She’d probably just shot to hell any chance she had of being with him. She’d gone so far she couldn’t even salvage her pride. This was how she’d ruined their relationship the last time—by letting him mean too much.
Maybe it was for the best. Maybe this would put a decisive end to whatever was starting between them again. He’d make sure of it. Then she wouldn’t have to fight her natural inclinations any longer.
She held her breath, expecting him to walk out without another word, or to explain, as he’d explained before, that he didn’t reciprocate those feelings.
Instead, he stepped close and lifted her chin with one finger. “I thought you were still in love with David.”
Of course he’d call her on that. But there was no gloating in his voice. It was an earnest question. “I am,” she whispered. “Don’t listen to me.”
When he tilted his head to study her, she knew she’d given herself away. “I mean nothing to you?” he asked.
“You’re good in bed. That’s all. Now get out of here.” She tried to shove him toward the door, but he resisted.
“You could be pregnant with my baby.” Considering the time of the month, it wasn’t likely, but it was possible. They hadn’t used any birth control that first time. She’d thought of the chance she might be carrying his child often throughout the day, let her heart curl around it almost as a secret wish. But his remark came out of nowhere, as if it had escaped from him just like what she’d said a moment earlier.
Her hand automatically went to her stomach. “Does that scare the hell out of you or what?” She gave an awkward laugh. In one way, being a single mother frightened her. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, that it would only complicate and strengthen what she felt for Isaac. But she was ready for the next stage of life, ready to love and cherish again, and nothing was more lovable than a baby. Especially Isaac’s baby. Somehow it seemed…right.
He stared down at her. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
She braced herself in case he mentioned abortion. She wouldn’t do it. She’d take the baby and run away if she had to, but she wouldn’t terminate the pregnancy. “And…”
“It scares the hell out of me.”
“No surprise there.”
Lowering his head, he kissed her tenderly. “But I kind of like the idea.”
A languid, warm feeling began to overcome the butterflies in her stomach as she melted into him. “You’re saying you want a baby?”
Raising his head, he cupped her face. “I’m saying I want you. Do you think we could make it—be happy together—if we tried?”
It wasn’t “I love you,” but it was close. In any event, he was the one who had to believe they could survive the demons of his past; he was the one who had to make the commitment to conquer those doubts and fears. “Maybe we should just take it one day at a time,” she said.
“That sounds good. But I don’t want you seeing anyone else.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Then you can’t see anyone else, either.”
“As long as you give me what I want whenever I want it, I won’t have to,” he teased, and swept her into his arms.
He was about to carry her to the bedroom, but she stopped him. “Let’s go to your place.”
He hesitated. “Any particular reason?”
“The phone call you got would be one. If there’s any danger here, we wouldn’t be in harm’s way. Leanne living so close would be another. And I have two days off…?.”
“I like the third reason.” He reversed direction. But there was one thing Claire had left out. This was still David’s house. There was no question that she loved Isaac—as she’d never loved anyone else—but she’d loved David in a unique way, too. And Isaac hadn’t proven he could take the place of her husband. Not quite yet.
Isaac was cooking breakfast again. Claire could smell it.
“You’re not going to feed me every time I stay over, are you?” she called out, but she wasn’t serious. Oddly enough, she was hungry—perhaps because it was past noon.
“That’s the price of my stud services,” he called back.
“So now you think you’re good enough to charge?”
“I didn’t hear any complaints last night.”
Smiling at the thought that only a crazy woman would complain about the kind of pleasure he’d given her, she buried her face in his pillow.
“Ready for breakfast?” he called a moment later.
Claire was so hopeful and happy she could hardly stand it. And that frightened her. Could she count on Isaac, when the entire town would tell her no? When he had such scars from his childhood? When he’d hurt her once already?
It could be that she was setting herself up for another fall.
“Yeah, just a sec.” She crawled out of bed and pulled on the T-shirt he’d taken off last night. Before she could reach the kitchen, however, the phone rang, and Isaac answered. He sounded congenial at first, but then his voice went hard.
“Who is it?” she asked, coming up behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Your sister.”
Anxiety bit deep. Was it all going bad so soon? “Why is she calling?”
“We’ll be right there,” he said into the phone, and hung up.
“Isaac?”
When he turned to face her, he put his hands on her shoulders as if what he had to say wouldn’t be easy to hear. “Someone broke into your house last night, Claire.”
“What?” She couldn’t even imagine such a thing. She’d been in her bedroom as late as two—Isaac had been with her the last few minutes—which meant it could have happened shortly after they left. Once the sun came up would be far riskier and therefore unlikely.
“They kicked in the back door and tossed the place.”
Claire had experienced a little foreboding but only because she felt guilty for finding happiness in Isaac’s arms. She’d never expected this. “Leanne found it that way, or someone called her or—”
“She said she went over to see how you were doing. When she couldn’t rouse you at the front door, she went around to the back and saw the damage.”
Claire made a mental list of the kinds of possessions typically stolen from residences. She had a computer, a flat-screen TV and one painting of her mother’s that she wouldn’t want to lose, but other than her furniture, there wasn’t much someone would want. She certainly didn’t have any drugs or cash or jewelry. “What’d they take?”