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“Save me,” Miranda whispered.
“Women, if they were smart, would give themselves better lives by choosing their partners more carefully.”
“Like you did,” Miranda shot, and Dominique’s eyes flashed with a private pain that turned Claire’s stomach.
“Yes,” she said, pride in her voice.
“And you’re miserable.” Why was Miranda being so blunt and hurtful? “I’ve heard you crying at night, Mom,” Randa said gently. “I know it hasn’t been easy.” Dominique’s spine suddenly looked as if someone had just poured starch down it.
“Neither is being poor and having to do anything to survive.” Her lips pursed and she blinked as she turned back to the vase. “If you don’t believe me, then think about Alice Moran—you know, the woman who lived with the foul-mouthed cripple across the lake.”
“You know her?” Claire asked, dumbstruck. She didn’t think either of her parents were aware of Kane’s family.
“I knew of her. Her husband—well, I think they’re still married even though she abandoned him and their son—any-way, Hampton’s forever trying to sue your father because of the accident.
“Alice Moran is just one example of a woman who married poorly and paid the price.”
“And you’re an example of someone who married well and paid the price,” Miranda said as she pushed through the swinging doors to the ki
tchen.
“Don’t listen to her,” Dominique had warned. “I’m afraid poor Randa is going to have to learn the hard way. You keep seeing Harley Taggert. Things will work out.”
But they hadn’t. Nothing seemed to be working. Claire didn’t know how long it had been since she’d been with Harley, but it seemed like forever. She’d even seen Kane several times since she and Harley had been together. Kane Moran seemed suddenly to be everywhere she was, and she hated to admit it, but he intrigued her—well, just a little. He was everything Harley wasn’t—poor, cocky, born with an I-don’t-give-a-good-goddamn attitude and eyes that seemed to see past her facade and search for the real person buried deep inside. It was scary how he made her feel—all jumpy and nervous and defensive. She’d even wondered what it would be like to kiss him, but stopped herself short because of Harley.
The boy she loved, she reminded herself.
The man she was going to marry.
Gritting her teeth, she was determined to push all her wayward thoughts of Kane Moran out of her mind.
But she couldn’t.
Because he was there, on the island.
She rounded a corner in the path and directly in front of her, on the highest point on this little rocky piece of ground, was her nemesis, the boy who caused her to question everything she’d ever dreamed of: Kane Moran.
Naked except for a pair of worn cutoffs, his hair still damp from a swim, he was stretched lazily over a smooth boulder.
Her throat closed for a second and she considered running away, but he’d already spied her, his eyes squinting at her as if he’d expected her to appear. She wanted to demand to know what he was doing here. After all, this was still her father’s property, but she didn’t want to sound petty. Besides, she’d seen him trespassing before. It was as if he felt no need to observe any man-made boundaries.
“If it isn’t the princess,” he drawled, and she felt the muscles in her back tighten. Propped on his elbows, sunlight playing across his tanned, taut skin, his eyes the pale hue of ale, he assessed her.
“I told you before I’m not a princess.”
“Yeah, right.” He rolled onto his bare feet.
“What’re you doing here?”
“Contemplating my life,” he said seriously, then allowed one side of his mouth to lift in a crooked, off-center grin that she found much too sexy.
“Really,” she persisted, and stood in the shade of a solitary cedar tree. He made her nervous, and she wondered if he was suddenly everywhere she was, pretending interest and making conversation, because he hoped to find out about the latest lawsuit his father had filed against the Holland family.
“To tell the truth, I’m wondering if Uncle Sam really does want me.”
“For the army?” The thought was chilling though she didn’t understand why. She rubbed her arms and was aware of the way he was studying her, so intently she wanted to move away from his steady gaze. “You’re going to enlist?”
“Why not?” he asked, lifting one muscular shoulder. “It’s peacetime.”
