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“I have. For seven years.” His fingers tightened over her shoulders and his eyes searched her face. She felt his anger, but in his eyes she saw deeper emotions brewing. “Just try to understand,” he said quietly. “You’ve got this job where every morning anyone west of the Rockies can switch on his television and see you and Alan Bently on the tube.”
“So?”
“So what’s to prevent your personal nut case, Lee Johnston, from trying to do another number on you?”
“The law! The courts! Henshaw.”
Zane snorted, then shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. “I deal with the law and the courts every day. Things don’t always turn out like they’re supposed to. As for Henshaw and Whispering Hills, I’ve got my doubts about that setup, too.”
“Johnston’s been there seven years.”
“Then he’s probably due for reevaluation,” Zane said. “We’ll know in a few days.”
“A few days?” she echoed. He expected her to stay up here that long?
“That’s how long it will take to check out the rumor. Maybe this Ted guy knows what he’s talking about. Then again, maybe he doesn’t. Believe it or not, I didn’t bring you up here just to get you angry. I’m scared, damn it. Scared for you. When I think of what Johnston could have done to you—what he’s still capable of…” Zane shuddered. Rubbing his arms, he strode to the window and, leaning his palms on the counter, stared through the glass to the black night beyond.
Kaylie’s heart softened a little. Though she was furious with him for abducting her, she couldn’t help but feel a kindness toward him, a thawing of that cold part of her heart where she’d kept her memories of their short marriage. She had loved him with all of her young, naive heart, and no other man had ever taken his place. No man could. But she forced all those long-buried thoughts of love aside.
“You have no right to do this,” she said quietly.
“I have every right.”
“Why?”
“Because I care, damn it.” He whirled on her, and his gaze, flinty gray, drilled deep into hers. “I care more about you than anyone else on this planet—even more than your precious Alan Bently. If you haven’t figured it out yet, that man’s a leech. He only cares about you because he thinks a public romance with you will further his career.”
“Oh, save me—”
“It’s true.”
“How do you know? Have you ever talked to Alan?”
He snorted derisively. “Of course not.”
“Well, if you had, you might have found out that I’ve never been involved with him.”
“That’s not what the tabloids say.”
“You read the tabloids?” she repeated, amused.
“No, but where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
“And you care?”
His lips twisted downward. “I told you—I care about you. As for Bently, the man’s the worst kind of opportunist. All those rumors that link you to Alan, I can just imagine what they do to the ratings.”
“Wh-what?” she demanded, getting a glimmer of what he was alluding to.
“It’s a ratings thing, isn’t it? Your morning talk show is pitted against a couple of other shows, isn’t it? I’ll bet your network thought it would boost viewership if you and Alan got married.”
“That’s absurd!” she gasped.
“Is it?” He opened a cupboard and found a brand-new bottle of Scotch. With a hard twist of his wrist, he snapped open the cap, breaking the label, and after locating a small glass, poured himself a stiff shot.
He took a slow swallow, and her gaze traveled from his firm chin to the silky way his Adam’s apple moved in his neck. God, he could reach her as no other man could. There was an irresistible male force surrounding him, and she was oh, so susceptible. She dragged her gaze away.
“I know you never believed it, Kaylie, but I loved you. More than any man should love a woman. I was the one who was obsessed.”
