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‘Then why did you threaten to sue for a share of it?’ she fired back, determined not to care about his hurt pride.
She had nothing to feel ashamed of. She wasn’t the one who had stormed out of their hotel room claiming he was going to sue her just for the hell of it.
‘I never said I was going to sue for anything,’ he added. ‘You made that assumption all on your own.’
‘You mean...’ Her mouth dropped open. Was he saying she’d come all this way and got stuck on a yacht with him for no reason? ‘You mean you’re not planning to take legal action?’
‘What do you think?’
The concession should have been a relief, but it wasn’t, the prickle of shame becoming a definite yank. She’d always known how touchy he was about her father’s money, but how could she have forgotten exactly how important it had always been to him never to take anything he hadn’t earned?
‘Then why wouldn’t you sign the divorce papers?’ she asked, trying to stay focused and absolve her guilt.
How could she have known that his insecurities about money ran so deep when he’d never once confided in her about where they came from? If he’d simply signed the papers in Manhattan, instead of going ballistic, she never would have made the assumption that he intended to sue for the shares in the first place.
‘And why won’t you sign them now?’
‘Your phoney divorce papers, you mean?’
‘They’re not phoney. They’re just a guarantee that—’
‘Forget it.’
He cut off her explanation, the scowl on his face disappearing to be replaced with something else—something that made no sense. He didn’t care about her, he never really had, so what was there to regret?
‘I’m not signing any papers that state I can’t claim those shares if I want to.’
‘But that’s just being contrary. Why wouldn’t you sign them if you don’t want the shares?’ she blurted out.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, his tone mocking and thick with resentment. ‘Why don’t you try figuring it out?’
She didn’t have to figure it out, though. Because it suddenly all became painfully obvious.
He expected her to trust him. In a way he’d never trusted her.
The searing irony made her want to shout her frustration at him, but she bit her lip to stop the brutal accusation coming out of her mouth.
Because it would make her sound pathetic. And it might lead to her having to ask herself again the heartbreaking question that had once nearly destroyed her.
Why had he never been able to believe her when she’d told him she loved him?
She refused to butt her head against that brick wall again—the brick wall he had always kept around his emotions—especially as it was far too late to matter now.
But then he touched her hair, letting a single tendril curl round his forefinger. The gentleness of the gesture made her heart contract in her chest, and the combination of pain and longing horrified her.
He gave a tug, making the punch of her pulse accelerate. And the yearning to have his mouth on hers became almost more than she could bear.
‘Dane, stop,’ she said, but the demand sounded like a plea.
She placed her palms on his waist, brutally torn as she absorbed the ripple of sensation when his abdominal muscles tensed under her hands.
‘Don’t push me, Red,’ he murmured, his lips so close she could almost taste them. ‘Or I’m gonna make you prove exactly how much you don’t want me.’
For tantalising seconds she stood with desire and longing threatening to tear her apart. She should push him away. Why couldn’t she?
But then he took the choice away from her.
Cursing softly, he let her go.
