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“Do me a favor, will you? Try a little less organization so you don’t chase off the help.” She nodded in agreement and he asked, “Come up with any brilliant ideas?”
“A few.” She straightened away from him. Ever so gently she took the box she held and set it on the window seat next to her. “I decided this would be the perfect room for Sarita. Igather you did, too.”
Damn. He’d forgotten he’d left thathere.
Shayne turned the box around, revealing the doll he’d bought Sarita, the sort he hoped a little girl would find irresistible. The face was porcelain, the hair long with shiny black curls. She was dressed all in satin and lace, her dress poofed out over layers and layers of petticoats. Long silky lashes framed big brown eyes that stared solemnly up athim.
He cleared his throat, aware that something had gone terribly wrong, but not quite sure what or why. “I heard little girls like dolls that share their coloring.”
Shayne closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. How could a man who acted with such thought and care think himself so heartless? It didn’t make sense. “It’s absolutely gorgeous,” she said. “Sarita will love it.”
“Will she? Ipicked it up for a Christmas present or as a little special something to make her feel more at home when she moves in here. What do you think?”
It was the first time she’d ever heard him sound uncertain. He must want his daughter very badly. Part of her rejoiced for him, that he’d go to such lengths to make a home for her. But another, far less noble part, wept that he’d never made such an effort for his long-agowife.
She collected her clipboard and stood. “I think it’s the perfect present, whenever you choose to give it to her.”
He caught her arm as she started past. “Have I done something wrong?”
“No, of course not.”
“You’re upset. Why?” He studied her intently. “Is it this clipboard business?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Is it because of last night? Are you afraid I’m going to dump you once I have Sarita?”
She didn't have the energy for another confrontation. How could she explain to a man who didn't believe in love that she'd spent her entire life searching for it? That once upon a time, she'd found it in his arms. And how could she explain to a man who didn't believe in love that it was the one thing his daughter would crave more than anything in the world, including beautiful, porcelain-faced dolls?
Shayne had once been a little girl who'd lost her parents, and been left in a cold, sterile environment without love or laughter or reassurance. They'd been the worst years of her life, afull decade that had left scars more permanent then the ones she carried on her body. As a result, she'd learned that, without love, life was a wasteland.
She stared up into her husband’s eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes that could be as hard and cold as a winter’s day one minute, and gentle and concerned and brimming with kindness the next. Right now they were summer-warm. Are you afraid I’m going to dump you once I have Sarita? he’d asked. Didn’t he understand?
“No, Chaz. I’m not afraid of that.” She fought to keep her mouth from trembling, to reveal how heart-wrenching she found their situation. “I’m afraid—terrified, actually—that you’re serious. That you really don’t know how to love, anymore.”
And as she watched, winter descended, sweeping into the harsh lines bracketing his mouth and darkening the sunshine of his gaze. “No need to be afraid of the truth, honey,” he said, coupling his exaggerated accent with a humorless smile. “Just face right on up to it.”
