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She changed out of the too hot black dress and into a pair of tan capris and a moss-green sleeveless top, adding a pair of wedges since it would be rude to walk around barefoot with guests in the house.
She paused at the top of the stairs when she saw Ted staring at a photo of her family. Then the door opened and Oz entered and paused.
Oz was an inch or so shorter than Ted, but he was broader of shoulder and seemingly more fit. Her comparison didn’t stop there, though. For the first time, she noticed Ted’s handsome face held a pretty-boy slant whereas Oz’s was more blunt and masculine.
You’re sounding petty, Dev.
“Can I help you?” Oz asked.
Ted turned and flashed his camera-ready smile.
“He’s with me,” Devon said, drawing both men’s attention to her as she began her descent. “Theodore George, Oscar Roman.”
“The novelist,” Ted said. “Devon said you were a friend of the family.”
“Yes,” Oz said, his gaze shifting from Ted to her.
Devon got a bit flustered beneath the force of it and cleared her throat. “Oz, Ted and I need a moment. Would you mind telling Dara she’ll have to do without me for a while?”
“Of course,” Oz said.
He dipped his head and gave her a look that reminded her of the kiss on the beach and the chemistry still very present between them. She instinctively knew his thoughts, knew he challenged her to own up to her warring feelings for him despite the ring she now held in her hand.
Oz had no sooner left than the door opened again, and Michael and Logan entered. They also stopped when they saw the two of them together.
“You must be Ted,” Logan said, extending his hand. “I’m Devon’s cousin Logan, and this is my brother, Michael.”
Introductions made, Devon excused them and prodded Ted down the hallway toward her father’s study before the door could open and more of her extended family could arrive.
“Nice house,” Ted said, moving across the study to take a look at the oceanfront view outside.
Even though her father was rarely home, he’d insisted on his home office having the view rather than the living area more often used by them all.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” she said.
He swung around, expression tight.
“My attendance was mandatory—or so I surmised from your voicemail.”
She blinked at his tone and crossed her arms over her front, the ring burning against her palm. “I was angry when I left that message. I’m sorry,” she said, “but I also meant what I said about returning the ring. I desperately needed you here for the service and burial. For comfort and support.”
“I’m here now.”
Her entire body felt like it was a bow string pulled taut. “Yes, you are. Now that the reporters have gone, the service is over, and your constituents won’t see you.”
Ted muttered a low curse and moved toward her.
“I tried to get here for the service, Devon. The fog was soup-thick this morning, and we couldn’t take off on time. I tried, though. You can check our flight log and the delay. Doesn’t that count for something?”
She stared at him, reading the truth in his expression.
“You know that I love you. I care about you. I just couldn’t get here in time, Devon.”
She inhaled, closed her eyes, and nodded. “I believe you.”
He brushed a kiss over her forehead, his hands sliding down her arms to hers. When he encountered her closed fist, he glanced at her again.
“I brought it to give back to you,” she said. “With everything going on I think maybe we should wait.” She opened her hand and revealed the beautiful ring.
