“Yes, I figured that out. So? Have you seen her?”
He held the phone in Delaney’s direction. “Your fiancé’s on the phone for you.”
Her ivory skin went white. She pushed back her hair from her face. “Chad?”
“You engaged to more than one guy?”
She didn’t answer that. The fine line of her jaw tightened. She set her case down on the dresser by the door before quickly moving forward to snatch the phone. She turned her back on him, but she couldn’t go far. It was a corded phone, as good as a leash.
Her voice was low, but Sam could still hear her as she greeted Chad Wright. Chadly Do-Wright.
And his wife was engaged to him.
He moved to the foot of the bed and sat down. He’d be damned if he’d leave, but listening to the muted one-sided conversation took him perilously close to the end of his rope.
The divorce proceedings she’d once started had long ago been dismissed, incomplete. She could well have filed again. Technically, he had abandoned her. Moved out of their apartment. Her apartment, to be precise. Hell, he’d moved out of the state, to the opposite side of the country. Wasn’t surprising that Chad had made a move on her.
Was surprising that Delaney had accepted. She’d always claimed there was nothing romantic between them.
When she hung up, he still didn’t move. He looked at the palms of his hands, entertaining the vision of slamming them into Do-Wright’s perfectly tanned blondness. “So that’s what this is about. Return one ring. Exchange it for another.” He looked up at her, keeping his hands from fisting through sheer willpower. “Are you actually going to wear it this time?”
Her eyes shimmered. “Sam—”
“Come on, honey. Don’t be tongue-tied now.”
“Don’t call me honey.”
“I suppose the endearment’s reserved for the good Dr. Wright now.”
“I’m not discussing Chad with you.”
“Why not? I think a husband should be able to discuss his wife’s lover, don’t you?”
Whitecaps frothed, then iced over. She looked incensed. “Chad is not my lover. And even if he were, it’d be no business of yours, because I am not your wife anymore!” Her voice rose.
Maybe in a few years he’d look back and find some humor in this. Like when he was dead in the ground about a hundred years.
He pushed to his feet and closed his hands over her shoulders, feeling her jump, before backing her to the doorway of his bedroom until she stood in the hall. He took his hands away from her and handed her the briefcase.
His wife.
The only woman he’d ever loved, and the only woman whose lack of trust in him had nearly killed him.
“Yes,” he said almost gently. “You are.”
Then he closed the door in her face.
Chapter 4
Delaney stared at the door for only a moment before she dumped her briefcase on the floor and reached for the handle.
But something inside her paused.
Could it be?
Her fingers curled against her palm.
No. Couldn’t be, she assured herself firmly and reached for the handle and turned it. She pushed the door inward, but couldn’t make herself take a step into the bedroom to save her soul.
Sam was sitting again on the foot of the bed. Hunched forward, muscles clearly defined under a satin layer of bronze skin. His arms were braced on his thighs, hands loose, relaxed, between. She met his unreadable dark eyes.
“I don’t believe you,” she said baldly. As if the words could make it so.
He merely quirked an eyebrow. “There’s a surprise.”
“What do you hope to gain by this pretense? It’s so easily disproved.”
“Then go ahead and do that, Delaney. Disprove it. You’ll need to before you pledge your troth to Do-Wright.”
“Leave Chad out of this.”
“Why? Seems he’s officially part of the threesome now.” His voice was mocking. “Like it or not, Delaney, you are—” his jaw tightened “—my wife.”
“I’ve got the papers that say otherwise!”
“Really. Well, I’ve got the papers that say the action was dismissed because of incomplete paperwork.”
“I had an attorney, Sam. He wouldn’t have made a mistake like that.”
He rose and it was like watching something dangerous uncoil. “Hope you don’t depend on him too often, then.” He slid open a drawer in his bureau and pulled out a thick manila envelope. “Read it and weep, darlin’.” He held it out to her.
She didn’t believe him. He was playing some sort of game for reasons known only to him.
Yet she found herself walking into his bedroom—not a smart place to be in the best of circumstances—to take the envelope.
“Takes only one paper to get married, but takes a stack two inches thick to get unmarried.”
She ignored his black comment as she unfastened the metal tab holding the envelope closed and slid out the contents. The same contents that were in the same size envelope her attorney had mailed her a year ago.
Only, you were such a basket case, you put the envelope in the closet without ever looking at it.
She rested the papers on Sam’s bureau. Her chest ached from the hard beat of her heart and she had to stare hard, read twice, to make sense of the cover letter.
And when she did, the bottom of her stomach seemed to drop out.
The judge had dismissed the petition because the filing had not been properly completed.
“Dismissed on a technicality,” Sam murmured behind her. “Seen it happen time and again in criminal cases.”
Delaney thrust back her hair and read the letter again. But of course the contents hadn’t magically changed just because she was on the verge of losing it.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“When? During our weekly telephone chats?”
Her lips tightened. Until that evening she hadn’t spoken with Sam since the day he’d moved out of their apartment. “You could have called.”
“You’re the one who filed, Delaney,” he reminded, and his even, reasonable tone set her teeth on edge. “Not me. When the time period the judge gave to correct the omissions passed and nothing happened, I figured that was your decision, too. Hope you didn’t pay your lawyer too much, though. Not that you’d miss it, with the Townsend family bank account at your disposal, but—”
“Stop it.” She whirled around to face him, managing to scatter the papers across the smooth wood surface. If she had used the Townsend attorney, none of this would be happening now. But she’d been determined to keep the matter in her control, and look at the results.
“Suppose you want to call Do-Wright.”
She started. Chad. The furthest person from her mind. “We’re still married.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re still married.”
“Are you shooting for the say-it-three-times-and-click-your-heels