“Come on, Claire. Open up!”
Damn! This would be her third encounter with him in less than twenty-four hours. Once or twice a month was hard enough.
Tightening the belt on her robe, she told herself she didn’t care that he was about to see her at her worst and opened the door.
Wearing a simple T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans that rested low on his hips, he loomed over her by almost a foot. Generally speaking, she didn’t mind being short. But she always longed for a little more height when dealing with him....
“What can I do for you?” She blocked the entrance and kept one hand on the knob. But then she spotted the accordion file beneath his arm and understood why he’d come.
Quickly checking to make sure Leanne wasn’t out—she didn’t want to be grilled about the reason Isaac Morgan had shown up at her house—she flung the door wide and waved him in.
His sardonic smile told her he knew it wasn’t him she was so excited to see. But he was wrong. To her own chagrin, seeing him always excited her.
“Nice place.”
He’d never been inside her house. She’d been living in a small apartment above Stuart’s Stop ’n’ Shop when they were “together.” Once David returned from college and accepted a job in Kalispell, she’d moved there, too, to attend beauty school. After she graduated, David opened his State Farm office and they both came back to Pineview, where they’d lived on David’s parents’ property until Tug finished building her house. Once it was done, they’d married and moved in.
“It’s small but comfortable.” She wasn’t sure if his compliment had been sincere, and she didn’t really care. She’d lost interest in so many things since David had died, not the least of which were cooking and cleaning. “Where did you get that?” She motioned to the file she’d attempted to remove from her mother’s studio.
He turned to face her. “Where do you think?”
“You went to the studio? Before the sheriff could get there?”
“I did. I could tell you wanted this.”
“That can’t be the only reason.” Such generosity wasn’t like him.
His expression hardened. “Why not?”
“It was late, you were injured and this is my problem.”
“Right. Why would I care? I’d never do anything just because it’s important to you. Only David would do that.”
She didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t up to an argument today, and he seemed even more defensive than usual. “Regardless of your reasons, I’m grateful.” She tried to take it from him so he’d leave. Now that she’d canceled all her appointments, she’d have the privacy and time to go through all the reports without being interrupted. But he held them beyond her reach.
“Why didn’t you want the sheriff to get hold of this?” he asked. “It came from his office in the first place, didn’t it? Which means you could always get another copy.”
She didn’t want to focus on his eyes with their golden-brown irises, but neither did she want to focus on the long, tanned fingers that could work such magic on whatever they touched. Clearing her throat, she kept her own eyes on those files. “Not necessarily. That folder contains much more than he’d release to me.”
His dark eyebrows gathered. “And he doesn’t know you have it?”
“I didn’t even know until yesterday. I found it in the attic of the studio. David must’ve gotten it for me…somehow.”
“Ah, David again.” His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Your knight in shining armor.”
She raised her chin. “Yes. Always.” She’d sensed long ago that Isaac had never liked David. David had certainly never liked Isaac, and it wasn’t exclusively due to jealousy. He hated Isaac because of the way Isaac had used her. He’d often told her she should hate him, too, and she’d pretended, but it was hard to blame Isaac when she was a willing participant in the whirlwind of desire that had brought them crashing together. He’d never forced her to visit his cabin. She’d been so eager for his touch she could scarcely wait from one encounter till the next.
He lowered his voice. “What did he know about us?”
She didn’t want to talk about this. It was too…intimate. She nearly told him so, but she feared that would only confirm how sensitive an issue he’d been between her and David. She decided it might be less revealing to simply answer. “He knew we slept together. I don’t—didn’t—keep anything from him.” Other than the depth of her feelings for Isaac, and the fact that those feelings never seemed to change or go away.
His voice dropped even further, and this time a pained expression accompanied his words. “Is he the reason you’ve been crying?”
“I haven’t been crying.” She wasn’t sure why she was attempting to lie. The truth was all too apparent. But she hated the idea of Isaac knowing she was in such a bad state. It was stupid and weak that she couldn’t seem to get back on her feet.
She aimed to be just as tough, just as indifferent, as he was. Maybe someday she’d actually accomplish it.
“Right.” He rolled his eyes.
Ignoring his reaction, she drew a deep breath. “So are you going to give me the files?”
He pursed his lips. “I’m thinking about it.”
“I don’t understand why you’d even hesitate.”
“Have you eaten today?”
She gaped at him. “Have I…eaten? What difference does that make?” Especially to him?
“It’s a simple enough question,” he said with a shrug.
“It’s nearly dinnertime. Of course I’ve eaten.” Another lie. She’d lost too much weight in the past year. Everyone was nagging her about it, especially her best friend, Laurel, and her stepfather.
“What did you have?”
Letting go of the collar of her robe, which she’d been holding closed, she fiddled with the belt—as if it was the way she’d tied it that made her look so thin. “Again, I don’t see why that matters.”
“Then it should be easy to tell me.”
She glanced toward the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, even now. She’d lost her appetite when David died. “Breakfast. I had breakfast.”
“Which consisted of…”
“Eggs. Oatmeal. Cereal.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “I don’t know.” It all sounded terrible to her.
A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You haven’t eaten a damn thing.”
“So?” she challenged.
“So where’s your sister?”
“I guess she’s at home. Or working in her shop.”
“She should be here, taking care of you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“You’re not doing a very good job of it.”
“All I need is what you’ve got right there.” Again, she motioned to the files.
He glared down at her. “Why do you think Saint David had so much information about your mother?”
“Saint David?”
“Just to let you know I’m clear about his status.”
“You— Never mind.” She curled her fingernails