Maybe, Baby. Terry McLaughlin
for the two of them to avoid the topic for long.
“The preproduction budget for The Virginian is coming along as well as can be expected,” he said, “considering all the difficulties inherent in a project of this scope.” He frowned and shifted forward, his long fingers dangling between his knees. “Which means it’s been a struggle getting Fitz to focus and getting Greenberg to relax.”
“It’s rough being caught in the middle.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s it.”
The fire behind the stove grate snapped and roared. Burke twisted his fingers together and stared at the floor.
“Your daughter is very pretty,” he said after a while.
“Thank you.” Nora sighed and leaned her shoulder against the sofa back. She’d been waiting for him to mention her beautiful, precious daughter, waiting for him to lavish the praise she deserved. To lay it on thick.
But he hadn’t even called her by her name yet. “Her name is Ashley.”
“Yes. Ashley.”
Nora smiled. Her name sounded heavenly when he spoke it in those plummy tones. “She’ll be four months old in a couple of weeks.”
“So soon.”
“Yes, so soon. She’s growing so fast, changing every day. Time seems to pass more quickly now.”
“Yes, it does,” he said. “Everything changes and moves on quickly, whether we want it to or not.”
She tensed and twined her fingers through the sash of her robe, waiting for the first skirmish in the coming battle.
“Have you considered where you’re going to go after you leave here?” he asked.
“I’m not leaving for a while yet.”
“But you must have some idea.”
“Of course I have ideas. Lots of them.” She untangled her fingers and smoothed the ends of the sash across her lap. “Just nothing definite. Not yet, anyway.”
He glanced at her with a frown. “Fitz told me you’re thinking of putting your house up for sale.”
“That’s one of those ideas.”
“But you love that house.”
“Ken loved it, too.”
“Ah.” Burke took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry for the unhappy memories.”
“You don’t have to be, since the ones you added were some of the best.” She pulled her hand from his and gave it a friendly pat. “I had some good times there. And, yes, I loved it. I loved living there and trying my best to make it a home, because it was the first place I could call my own. But there’ll be other places, and it’s a great time to cash in on the investment. I could use the money from the sale.”
“There are other ways to raise funds. Ways that would let you keep your house.”
“Why are you so concerned about my house?”
“Because you were, at one time.” He shifted on the sofa to face her. “Because I think you still are.”
She stood and moved across the room to shove another piece of wood into the stove. He was right, of course. But while she’d won the house in the divorce settlement, Ken had walked away with most of the cash needed for its upkeep. The thought of losing that house—the wisteria-covered porches, the sloping tiled roof, the tall windows and curved stairway, the dramatic sweeps and the intimate niches—twisted her heart like a rag and squeezed it dry.
Mentioning Ken like that, using the pain of her divorce like a shield had been a convenient way to deflect the issue and obscure the truth. It was easier to stay here, in Montana, than to deal with the fallout of her failed marriage in Hollywood. It was more tempting to consider moving on than to face going back. “Like I said, there are plenty of other houses out there. I don’t mind looking. It’s fun to wander through a place and try it on for size, to see if it fits. To imagine the possibilities.”
“Where are you going to look next?”
“Why do you want to know?” She turned to face him. “Why do you have to know, tonight?”
His steady, searching stare sent a shiver up her spine, and she wrapped her arms around her waist.
“Sorry, Burke. I know I’m grouchy. I get tired easily these days. Caring for Ashley takes a lot out of me. Literally,” she added with a smile.
At her mention of her daughter, something awkward flickered across his features. He stood and brushed his hands over his slacks. “And I’ve kept you up too late. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“You don’t have to apologize. You don’t have to keep thanking me, and you don’t have to be so damn—”
Her voice rose on a hot spike of temper, but she didn’t care. Yes, she was tired, but mostly she was hurt, wounded by his reaction to Ashley; his lack of reaction, to be precise. Angry that he’d used her own house as the first salvo against her, and that he’d hit one of her most sensitive spots dead center with that first strike.
And worried that she didn’t have an answer to his question about where she intended to live. How shortsighted and irresponsible she must seem. How pitiful.
“You don’t have to watch your every step around me,” she said at last.
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I wasn’t aware of it.”
“And you’re so completely aware of everything, aren’t you?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Including unsubtle behavior.”
“I already told you—I’m tired and grouchy.” She stormed into the kitchen area, her robe billowing about her legs, and snatched up the teakettle. She slapped at the faucet and ran water into the spout. “If you don’t like my unsubtle behavior, you’re welcome to stay elsewhere.”
“Are you rescinding your invitation?”
“Don’t worry.” She slammed the kettle on a burner grate and whirled to face him. “I won’t toss you out in the cold tonight.”
“Neither of us has to worry, then. I’m sure that with a little practice, I can be as unthoughtful and ungrateful as you require.”
He reached up and readjusted his glasses in one of those cool and controlled moves of his that normally made her itch to poke at his composure and tease him senseless. Tonight his attitude set her teeth on edge.
“However,” he added, “if you change your mind, it appears it will still be quite cold enough for tossing me out tomorrow.”
CHAPTER FOUR
WILL WINTERHAWK stretched with a sigh along one side of the four-poster bed in the room he shared with Jenna. He’d always looked forward to this time of day, when he could let his body and mind unwind, when he could switch off his focus on the ranch work and set his imagination loose to ease him into sleep and pleasant dreams.
For twenty years he’d passed most of his evenings with his nose buried in one of the books he treasured, keeping company with interesting characters and picking up some new ways of thinking about things. Now he spent his evenings with his wife, the woman he’d loved in secret through all those years.
He didn’t miss the books so much, though he still managed to read more than most men he knew. Jenna was turning out to be one of the most interesting characters he’d ever known, and trying to figure out her ways of thinking about things was going to keep him occupied for longer than he could imagine.
And he deeply treasured the way they could ease each other into sleep