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192 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
He was handsome enough even with only one arm—he had thick, wavy black hair on a leonine head, with dark eyebrows and pale gray eyes. He was tall and well built, a dynamo of a man;
His wife had died in the accident that took his arm. It had happened just after Tira's marriage to John Beck. Tira had nursed him in the hospital, and gossip had run rampant.
But secretly, he despised her for what she'd done to John.
It was like the end of am era for him. First he'd lost Melia, his wife, and his arm; now he'd lost John, too.
She was always flamboyant, vivacious, outgoing and mercurial.
She was tall, beautiful, with long, glorious red-gold hair that went to her waist, pale green eyes and a figure right out of a fashion magazine. She could have been a model, but she was surprisingly shy for a pretty woman.
Simon would never have admitted that he threw Tira together with John to get her out of his own circle and out of the reach of temptation.
She'd only wanted to attend the auction because she knew Simon Hart was going to be there.
Charles was hopelessly in love with his brother's wife. She was the only person who knew that. Many people thought that she and Charles were lovers, which amused them both.
"I've been in an odd mood for years. Not that I ever expect you to notice."
His wife had been his whole heart, until that last night when she betrayed a secret that destroyed his pride and his love for her.
...she'd married him for money and kept a lover in the background.
Her lack of commitment to her marriage and her cavalier attitude about the divorce had made him uneasy.
He and Tira had become casual friends, but nothing more, he made sure of it.
When was she ever going to learn that Simon didn't want her?
Her first step was to sell the Montana property.
She moved out of her apartment that was only a couple of blocks from Simon's, too, and bought an elegant house on the outskirts of town on the Floresville Road .
The rest of the house followed the same subdued elegance of style and color. It denoted a person who was introverted, sensitive and old-fashioned. Which, under the flamboyant camouflage, Tira really was.
"In the long run, that's probably the best thing you could have done," Dorie said quietly. "You're still young and very pretty," she added with a smile. "And the world is full of men."
"You didn't give a damn about John. You divorced him a month after the wedding and never seemed to care if you saw him again or not. Barely a week later, you were keeping company with Charles Percy."
I never realized what a shallow, cold woman you were until then. Everything you are is on the outside,"
"Glorious hair, a pretty face, sparkling eyes, pretty figure...and nothing under it all. Not even a spark of compassion or love for anyone except yourself."
The next morning, the housekeeper she'd hired, Mrs. Lester, found her sprawled across her bed with a loaded pistol in her hands and an empty whiskey bottle lying on its side on the stained gray carpet.
"I was just a little depressed, that's all. I found out yesterday that Simon holds me responsible for John's death."
"Yes, I know, I'm a murderess." His face went taut. "I didn't say that!" "You might as well have!"
"I'm not even surprised to see you with Jill, Simon. She's as opinionated and narrow-minded as you are, and she knows how to put the knife in, too. I daresay you're a match made in heaven!"
He was giving aid and comfort to Tira's worst enemy in the city. He'd done it deliberately, of course, to make her even more uncomfortable. But that was before he knew the whole truth. Now he felt guilty.
She whimpered as she felt the full force of his mouth, felt the kiss she'd dreamed of for so many years suddenly becoming reality.
"Lucky Charles," he said gruffly. "Is that what he gets?" Her eyes flashed at him. "You get out of here!"
Jill called and invited herself to lunch with him, fishing for clues to his unusual bad humor. He mumbled something about going to the opera and having an argument with Tira, but offered no details at all.
He was even more irritated by Jill's interference. He'd made a bad mistake there, taking out Tira's worst enemy. He'd been depressed and Jill was good company, but it would have to stop.
"I don't have affairs, Simon." "Of course you do, darling," he drawled with barely concealed jealousy. "What else do you have with Charles Percy?"
She wept silently at the reality of intimacy. It wasn't glorious fireworks of ecstasy at all. It was just a painful way to give a man pleasure. She hated him. She hated herself more for giving in.
"You must be the only twenty-eight-year-old virgin in Texas ," he murmured, and he wasn't joking. His eyes were solemn. "Did you save it for me, all these years?"
"I haven't had a woman since Melia died. I dated Jill, but we were never intimate."
Last night it had seemed right and beautiful. This morning it seemed sordid and she felt cheap.
"Must run, dear," Jill said quickly. "I have to get home to Simon. Hope the party's a great success. See you!"
"I love you," she whispered sleepily. He drew in a shaky breath. "I noticed."