“Of course you love him! And he loves you!”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“How do you know that? Has he told you that he doesn’t?”
Rena snorted indelicately. “No, but Clayton rarely says anything. Or at least, not to me.”
“Then you can’t possibly know that he doesn’t love you.”
Rena turned her head slowly to peer at Megan through the dark sunglasses that concealed eyes swollen from a night spent crying over that very actuality. “Trust me,” she replied dryly. “I know.”
Megan huffed a breath and flopped back against the cushions, folding her arms stubbornly beneath her breasts. “Well, I think he does.”
Rena sputtered a laugh. “And why would you think that? You haven’t been around Clayton or talked to him in years.”
“I was there the night you met him,” Megan reminded her. “Remember?”
Rena turned her face away. “Yes, I remember.”
“And do you also remember how you two just seemed to click?” she asked, snapping two fingers together for emphasis. “I’ve never seen chemistry like that before, nor have I since.”
Rena fluttered a hand, dismissing her friend’s opinion. “Lust. Pure and simple.”
Megan jackknifed to a sitting position. “It was not just lust!” she cried, then clamped her lips together and stole a quick glance at the house to make sure that no one had overheard her. Though no faces appeared in any of the windows, she lowered her voice, obviously concerned that Rena’s mother was hovering on the other side of the doors, as she had when they were teenagers, eavesdropping on their conversation. “Two star-crossed lovers destined to meet,” she whispered furiously to Rena. “That’s what the two of you were. One look from Clayton, one touch, and you came alive.”
Even as her friend described the event, Rena felt the leap of nerves beneath her skin, the quickening of her breath, the heat racing through her veins. She could see Clayton as he’d stood that night, alone at the edge of the dance floor, his hands braced low on his hips. The sleeves of his black Western shirt had been rolled to his elbows, exposing muscled forearms dusted with dark hair, and his black cowboy hat had been shoved back on his head, revealing the sharp angles of an incredibly handsome face.
Black. The bad guys always wear black, she remembered thinking at the time, even as she’d smiled flirtatiously at him when he’d looked her way.
Furious with herself for even thinking about Clayton and the night they’d first met, she sat up impatiently. “Lust,” she repeated stubbornly and reached for the bottle of sunscreen sitting on the table. “It was nothing but lust.”
“How can you say that?” Megan cried. “You were crazy about him!”
Frowning, Rena smeared the cream over her legs. “Crazy being the operative word.”
“Uggh,” Megan groaned, obviously frustrated by having her words twisted around. “You weren’t crazy! In fact, accepting Clayton’s invitation to dance was probably the sanest and bravest thing you’d ever done in your life.”
When Rena humphed her disagreement, Megan swung her legs over the side of the chair and snatched the bottle of sunscreen from Rena’s hand. “You listen to me, Rena Rankin,” she ordered sternly. “Up until that night, you’d lived your entire life at your parents’ direction, being the dutiful daughter, the perfect little debutante, doing exactly what you were told, never daring to veer either left or right from the path they’d mapped out for you. But with Clayton you forgot all that, and you were simply you!”
“Me?” Rena sputtered a laugh. “I was twenty-one years old, extremely naive and looking for trouble. And I found it,” she added bitterly.
“You weren’t looking for trouble.”
“Wasn’t I?” Rena asked, arching a brow above the rim of her sunglasses as she peered at her friend. “Slumming. Isn’t that what you called it that night when you suggested that the three of us go inside that country-western dance hall in Oklahoma City? Three sorority girls from the University of Oklahoma mixing and mingling with the local yokels, I believe is how you described it.”
Megan’s cheeks reddened, but she lifted her chin defensively. “Okay. So maybe my intentions weren’t totally charitable, but I was proven wrong, wasn’t I? The cowboys we met that night treated us with more respect than any of the fraternity boys ever had, didn’t they?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t seem to want one. “They were gentlemen. Treated us like ladies. And we had fun, didn’t we?”
“Yes,” Rena agreed, with a decisive nod of her head. “We definitely had fun. But I paid for the fun I had that night.”
Rena sighed heavily, weary from arguing with her friend. “Look, Megan,” she said patiently, hoping to make her friend understand. “I know my leaving Clayton seems impulsive, irrational, maybe even a mistake. And perhaps it is,” she admitted reluctantly. “But I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last few months. Not just about my relationship with Clayton, but about me, and I’ve discovered some things about myself that I don’t like very much.
“For years I allowed my parents to control my life, based my happiness on their approval. And when I married Clayton, I simply transferred that control to him. I don’t blame him,” she said quickly when Megan appeared as if she was about to argue. “Not totally, anyway. Although I do believe things might have been different if Clayton had been willing to be more of a husband to me and more of a father to the children, if he’d only loved us more and been willing to show his love for us. But I realized that nothing was going to change for us or me,” she added emphatically, “unless I made some changes myself.”
“And leaving Clayton is your answer to your problems?” Megan asked doubtfully.
“Partially. I need to learn to stand on my own two feet. To be independent.” Rena smiled softly, thinking of the steps she’d already taken in that direction. “I’ve bought a house in Salado, a wonderful old place that the twins and I can live in while I restore it. And I’m starting an interior design business, something I’ve always dreamed of doing but…” she smiled ruefully, not wanting to place blame. “Well, let’s just say I allowed others to keep me from pursuing that dream.”
“Oh, Rena,” Megan began sorrowfully.
But before she could say more a shrill voice called from the patio. “Rena! Rena, dear! You have a guest.”
Hearing the displeasure in her mother’s voice, Rena didn’t need to turn to see who her visitor was…but she did, anyway. And when she did, she saw that Clayton was already walking down the flagstone path that led to the pool, not waiting for an invitation to join her. His stride was long and loose, yet purposeful, his shoulders broad beneath a crisp black Western shirt. The jeans he wore hugged his hips and thighs and hung low over his boot heels, the starched denim fabric creating a soft whisking sound with each step he took on the uneven stone path.
Heat flooded her face at the sight of him, every nerve burning with awareness, and she was grateful that the sunglasses hid her eyes from him…without them she was certain he’d see the yearning in them.
“In fact, I’m still paying for that fun,” she murmured under her breath.
Megan rose, smiling. “Clayton!” she called, her pleasure obvious. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Clayton swept off his hat and stretched out a hand, his expression guarded. “Megan. It’s been a while.”
“More than a while. Years!” she exclaimed, laughing as she squeezed his hand between hers. “How are you?”
Clayton glanced quickly at Rena, one corner of his mouth dipping into a scowl. “I’ve been better.”
Megan