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“It doesn’t.”
“Liar.”
“I just don’t like being reminded that you were married.”
“You’re reminded of it every time you see Emily.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Your child can’t be compared to your ex-husband’s mother.”
Sheila sighed to herself as they began walking back to the house. “I don’t want to argue with you. It’s pointless. I’m a thirty-year-old divorced woman with a child. You can’t expect me to forget that I was married.”
“I don’t. But then, I don’t expect you to constantly remind yourself of the fact.”
“I don’t.”
They came to a bend in the path, and Noah stopped and turned to face Sheila. He set down the basket and gazed into the gray depths of her eyes. “I think you’re still hung up on your ex-husband,” he accused.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
Sheila’s anger became evident as she pursed her lips tightly together. “The only reason I don’t like to talk about Jeff is that I’m not proud of being divorced. I didn’t go into that marriage expecting it to end as it did. I thought I loved him once, now I’m not so sure, but the point is, I had hoped that it wouldn’t have turned out so badly. It’s . . . as if I’vefailed.”She was shaking, but tried to control her ragged emotions. She sighed as she thought of her daughter. “I am glad I married Jeff, though.”
“I thought so.” His blue eyes narrowed.
“Because of Emily!” Sheila was becoming exasperated. “If I wouldn’t have married Jeff, I would never have had Emily.Youshould understand that.”
“I didn’t get married to have Sean!”
“And I wouldn’t have a baby without a father.”
Noah’s jaw clenched, and the skin over his cheekbones stretched thin. “So you think Marilyn should have gotten an abortion, as she had planned.”
“No!” Didn’t he understand what she was saying? “Of course not. I don’t even understand the circumstances surrounding your son’s birth.”
“Is that what you want, to hear all the juicy details?”
“I only want to know what you’re willing to tell me and to try and convince you that I’m not in the least ‘hung up’ on Jeff. That was over long before the divorce.”
The anger in Noah’s eyes began to fade. His mouth spread into a slow, self-deprecating smile. “It’s hard, you know.”
“What?”
“Dealing with jealousy.” He looked into the distance as he sorted his thoughts. It was late afternoon; a warm sun hung low in the sky, waiting to disappear beneath the ridge of snowcapped mountains, and he was with the only woman who had really interested him in the last sixteen years. Why did he insist on arguing with her? Why couldn’t he just tell her everything he felt about her—that he was falling in love with her and couldn’t let himself fall victim to her? Why couldn’t he find the courage to explain about her father? Why couldn’t he ignore the look of pride and love in her eyes when she spoke of her father? What did he fear?
Sheila was staring at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re trying to convince me that you’re jealous . . . of what . . . notJeff?” If Noah hadn’t seemed so earnest, so genuinely vexed with himself, she might have laughed.
He was deadly serious, his voice low and without humor. “I’m jealous of any man that touched you.”
She reached down, picked up the basket and handed it to him. “Now who’s exhibiting ‘latent Victorian morality’?”
His dimple appeared as he carefully considered her accusation. “Okay, so you’re right. I can’t help it. I get a little crazy when I’m with you.” He reached for her, but because he was hampered by the picnic basket, she managed to slip out of his grasp. A few feet ahead of him, she turned and walked backward up the sloping, overgrown path. “Is that such a crime?”
“That depends,” she murmured, tossing her rich chestnut hair before lowering her lashes and pouting her lips provocatively.
