LITMIR.BIZ

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making herself look him in the eye. “You want to marry me because you love me? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

      Some little part of her—that stupid, childish dreamer—still hoped he’d say yes. Yes, I love you.

      But he didn’t. Instead he turned pale, wouldn’t meet her eyes.

      And it hurt. It hurt so bad.

      “Well.” She squared her shoulders and wrapped what was left of her pride around her. “Guess that look says it all. Goodbye, Ryan. It’s been…swell.”

      His hands tightened on her arms.

      She felt very tired suddenly. “For God’s sake…would you just let me go with what little dignity I have left?”

      He let out a weary breath. “You don’t understand. I didn’t use any protection. There could be a baby,” he said softly.

      The words felt like a knife piercing her heart. So that was working on him, too. The old “do the right thing” credo of the incurably macho club. Guilt had prompted his proposal if We need to get married could, by any stretch of the imagination, be considered a proposal.

      “Yes, there could be a baby,” she agreed, lifting her chin, clinging by a fingernail to her self-respect. “I’d love to have a baby. But I won’t raise a child with a man who doesn’t love me. So either way—you’re out of the loop on this one. Now, let me go. Please.”

      He was quiet for a very long time before finally releasing her.

      She didn’t wait for him to have another go at her. She got in her car and left.

      In her rearview mirror, she saw him standing there, watching her drive away. She didn’t see the bleakness in his eyes or hear the soft curse he leveled at himself. She was too steeped in her own misery to recognize his.

      Besides being a good friend, Stephanie Firth had a sympathetic ear. Carrie had evidently looked as if she needed both when she’d shown up for her volunteer shift at the library late the next afternoon, just before the library closed at five.

      Stephanie had taken one look at her, hustled her into her office, sat her down in the closest chair and shoved a cup of mocha latte into her hands.

      “Okay. What’s up?” Steph asked gently, perching on the corner of her desk.

      With no more prompting than Steph’s sympathetic look, Carrie spilled her guts—starting with giving up on her longtime feelings for Ry, to her determination to find a meaningful relationship with Nathan and working right on through everything that had happened since. Including the night she’d spent with Ry. And the disastrous morning after.

      “Oh, Lord, he didn’t really say that.” Stephanie moaned. “Did he?”

      Carrie let out a breath that ruffled the hair falling over her forehead and met Stephanie’s frown over her recounting of Ry’s We need to get married edict.

      “Not only did he say it, he meant to follow through on it. The big jerk. As if I’d ever be comfortable playing the part of a ball and chain hanging around his neck.”

      “Oh, sweetie…he would never think of you like that.”

      “But I would. I would,” Carrie repeated.

      She shook her head and with a gusty sigh, rested her chin on her palm. “What is it with us, Steph? It’s not like we’re asking for that much. Why don’t we have what it takes to attract a good man who will adore us twenty-four-seven and make us feel like sex goddesses to boot?”

      They both grinned, because, really, what else was there to do at this point?

      “Hey,” Stephanie said, feigning indignation and working to lighten the mood, “there is no we anymore. I’m the lone virgin now since…since—”

      “Since Ry deflowered me?” Carrie supplied, then snorted when Steph laughed. “Trust me…it’s probably the word he would use. I think he’s some closet Victorian morals cop or something.”

      “Are we talking about the same Ry Evans here?”

      “Yeah, I know. Given his reputation with women, it’s a little hard to figure, huh?”

      Steph pushed away from the desk to snap a yellow leaf off a lush philodendron flourishing on the windowsill. Beyond the open blinds, the sky was already turning the gunmetal-gray shade that would deepen in a few more minutes to the black of evening. Night came early to West Texas in February.

      “Maybe he’s acting this way because it was you…and because you’re special to him,” Steph offered.

      “Yeah. I’m special all right,” Carrie said with a tired breath. So special he didn’t have it in him to love her.

      “So,” Steph said, lowering her voice and eyeing Carrie with open curiosity from across the room, “was it, um, you know. The…sex. Oh, heck. How was it?”

      How was it? Carrie let herself drift back to the night before and felt her bones melt at the memories.

      “Incredible,” she admitted as a surge of arousal that even her disappointment and anger couldn’t quell, eddied through her.

      Steph sighed dreamily, then jumped when a knock sounded on her office door. “Yes?” she said just as the door swung open—and Nathan Beldon walked in.

      “Carrie,” he said, relief filling his voice. “Thank God I finally found you.”

      Carrie drew her shoulders back, a defense against her pride, which had taken a hit from this man, too. “I don’t think we have anything to say to each other, Nathan.”

      Nathan looked from Carrie to Stephanie, who was regarding him with barely veiled disdain. He flashed a smile that oozed charm and begged for understanding. “Would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes? I realize it’s a huge imposition, but I really need to discuss something with Carrie in private.”

      Stephanie looked toward Carrie for her reaction.

      “It’s okay, Steph,” she said, deciding it would be best to just clear the air, throw him out on his ear and get on with her life. “Nathan and I have some unfinished business. It won’t take but a few minutes.”

      “I’ll be right outside in the other room,” Steph said, looking uneasy and uncertain about the wisdom of leaving Carrie with Nathan.

      “Let’s make this easy, okay?” Carrie said to Nathan after Stephanie reluctantly left the room, shutting the door behind her. “You’re not what I thought you were. You’re not who I thought you were. And you are definitely not someone I care about having in my life. Beyond that, I really have nothing to say to you.”

      With that, she rose from behind Stephanie’s desk and headed for the door.

      “You’re not going anywhere, you simpering little bitch.”

      Carrie was so stunned—by his words, by the rancor licking through them—she froze, certain her mind was playing tricks on her. But then she saw his face. Hatred. Stark and vivid.

      Who was this person? And how could she ever have thought he could become someone special to her?

      Suddenly she was frightened. And the only place she wanted to be was gone. “Goodbye, Nathan.”

      “I said, you aren’t going anywhere,” Roman Birkenfeld snarled and grabbed the high-and-mighty Ms. Whelan’s arm when she tried to walk past him.

      Good, he thought, when her expression registered both pain and a shock so acute she couldn’t even speak. He saw the thread of fear in her eyes. And he liked it. He hadn’t planned on getting rough with her—at least not yet. He’d planned on making her see reason, win back her trust so he could use her to get to Natalie Perez and ultimately his money through Carrie’s brother in a little more civilized manner. But

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