“Why?” He kicked back in the chair and took a comfortable drag on his cigarette.

“Well, some people actually use this room to prepare entire meals.”

“Only if they haven't heard of take-out.” He saw that the coffee had dripped through and rose to pour them both a cup. “What do you take in this?”

“Just black. I need the kick.”

“If you ask me, what you need is more sleep.”

“I have to be at work in an hour or so.” With the bowl of eggs in her hands, she stopped to stare out of the window. He recognized the look in her eyes and rubbed a hand over her shoulder. “Don't.”

“I'm sorry.” She turned to the stove to pour the beaten eggs into the skillet. “I can't help but wonder what they're doing, if they're having a good time. They've never been away before.”

“Hasn't he taken them for a weekend?”

“No, just a couple of afternoons that weren't terribly successful.” She made an effort to shake the mood as she stirred the eggs. “Well, there's only thirteen days left to go.”

“You're not helping them or yourself by getting worked up.” His impotence grated as he fought to massage the tension from her shoulders.

“I'm fine. I will be fine,” she corrected. “I've got more than enough to keep me busy for the next couple of weeks. And with the kids gone, I can put in more time trying to find the emeralds.”

“You leave that to me.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “This is a team effort, Holt. It always has been.”

“I'm involved now, and I'll handle it.”

She dished the eggs up as carefully as she chose her words. “I appreciate your help. All of us do. But they're called the Calhoun emeralds for a reason. Two of my sisters have been threatened because of them.”

“Exactly my point. You're out of your league with Livingston, Suzanna. He's smart and he's brutal. He won't ask you nicely to get out of his way.”

Turning, she handed him his plate. “I'm accustomed to smart, brutal men, and I've already spent enough of my life being afraid.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said.” She lifted her plate, and the mug of coffee. “I won't let some thief intimidate me or make me afraid to do what's best for myself and my family.”

But Holt was shaking his head. That wasn't the answer he'd wanted. “Are you afraid of Dumont? Physically?”

Her gaze wavered then leveled. “We're talking about the emeralds.” She tried to move by him, but Holt blocked her path. His eyes had gone dark, but when he spoke his voice was softer, more controlled than she had ever heard it.

“Did he hit you?”

Her color deepened, then raced away from her cheeks. “What?” “I want to know if Dumont ever hit you.”

Nerves were tightening her throat. No matter how quiet his voice, there was a terrible gleam of violence in his eyes. “The eggs are getting cold, Holt, and I'm hungry.”

He fought back the urge to hurl the plate against the wall. He sat, waited for her to take the seat across from him. She looked very frail and very composed in the stream of sunlight. “I want an answer, Suzanna.” He picked up his coffee and sipped as she toyed with her food. He knew how to wait and how to push.

“No.” Her voice was flat as she took the first bite. “He never hit me.”

“Just knocked you around?” He kept his voice casual and ate without tasting. Her gaze flicked up to his, then away.

“There are a lot of ways to intimidate and demoralize, Holt. After that, humiliation is a snap.” Picking up a slice of toast, she buttered it carefully. “You're nearly out of bread.”

“What did he do to you?” “Let it go.”

“What,” he repeated slowly, “did he do to you?” “He made me face facts.”

“Such as?”

“That I was pitifully inadequate as a wife of a corporate lawyer with social and political ambitions.”

“Why?”

She slammed down the knife. “Is this how you interrogate suspects?” Anger, he thought. That was better. “It's a simple question.”

“And you want a simple answer? Fine. He married me because of my name. He thought there was a bit more money as well as prestige attached to it, but the Calhoun name was more than adequate. Unfortunately it became quickly apparent that I wasn't the social boon he'd imagined. My dinner party conversation was pedestrian at best. I could be dressed up to look the part of the prominent wife of a politically ambitious attorney, but I could never quite pull it off. It was, as he told me often, a huge disappointment that I couldn't get it through my head what was expected of me. That I was boring, in the drawing room, the dining room and the bedroom.”

She sprang up to scrape the rest of her meal into Sadie's bowl. “Does that answer your question?”

“No.” Holt pushed his plate away and pulled out a cigarette. “I'd like to know how he convinced you that you were at fault.”

Keeping her back to him, she straightened. “Because I loved him. Or I loved the man I thought I'd married, and I wanted, very badly, to be the woman he'd be proud of. But the harder I tried, the more I failed. Then I had Alex, and it seemed...I had done something so incredible. I'd brought that beautiful baby into the world. And it was so easy, so natural for me to be a mother. I never had any doubts, any missteps. I was so happy, so focused on the child and the family we'd begun, that I didn't realize that Bax was discreetly finding more exciting companionship. Not until I found out I was going to have Jenny.”

“So he cheated on you.” His voice was deceptively mild. “What did you do about it?”

She didn't turn around, but began to run water in the sink to wash the dishes. “You can't understand what it's like to be betrayed that way. To already feel as though you're inadequate. To be carrying a man's child and find out that you've already been replaced.”

“No, I can't. But it seems to me I'd be ticked off.”

“Was I angry?” She nearly laughed. “Yes, I was angry, but I was also...wounded. I don't like to remember how easy it was for him to shatter me. Alex was only a few months old, and Jenny hadn't been planned. But I was so happy to be pregnant. He didn't want her. Nothing he'd done to me before had hurt or shocked me the way his reaction did when I told him I was pregnant again. He wasn't angry so much as...irked.” She decided on a half laugh and plunged her hands into the soapy water.

“He had a son,” she continued, “so the Dumont name would continue. He didn't intend to clutter up his life with children, and he certainly didn't want to have to drag me around the social wheel a second time while I was fat and tired and unattractive. The most practical solution was to terminate the pregnancy. We fought horribly about that. It was the first time I'd had the nerve to stand up to him – which only made it worse. Bax was used to getting his own way, he always had. Since he couldn't force me to do what he wanted, he paid me back, expertly.”

Calmer now, she set the dish aside to drain and began to wash out the skillet. “He was still discreet publicly with his affairs, but he made sure I knew about them, and how sadly I compared to the women he slept with. He took my name off the checking and charge accounts so that I had to ask him whenever I needed money. That was one of his more subtle humiliations. The night Jenny was born, he was with another woman. He made certain I knew about that when he came to the hospital so the press could snap his picture while he played the proud father.”

Holt hadn't moved. He didn't trust himself to move. “Why did you stay with him?”

“At first, because I kept hoping I would wake up beside the man I'd fallen in love with. Then, when I started to consider that my marriage was a failure, I had one child and was pregnant with another.” She picked up a cloth and began to dry the dishes. “And I stayed because for a long time, a very long time I was convinced he was right about me. I wasn't clever and witty and sharp. I wasn't sexy or seductive. So the least I could be was loyal. When I realized I couldn't even be that, I had to consider the effect on the children. They weren't to be hurt. I couldn't have stood it if dissolving my marriage to Bax had hurt them. One day, I suddenly understood that it was all for nothing, that I was not only wasting my life but probably doing more harm to Alex and Jenny by pretending there was a marriage. Bax paid little attention to his son, and none at all to his daughter. He spent a great deal more time with his lover than he did with his family.”

She sighed, set the dishes down. “So I hid my diamonds in Jenny's diaper bag and asked for a divorce.” When she turned, the weariness was back on her face. “Does that answer your question?”

Very slowly, his eyes on hers, he rose. “Did it ever occur to you, did it ever once cross your mind that he was inadequate, that he was a failure? That he was a spoiled, selfish bastard?”

Her lips curved a little. “Well, the last part certainly occurred to me. It also occurs to me that my little story is one – sided. I imagine Bax's view of our relationship would differ from mine, and not without some merit.”

“He's still pushing your buttons,” Holt said with barely suppressed fury. “So you're not clever? I guess anyone could manage to raise two kids and run a business. Dull, too?” He took a step toward her, only more furious when he saw her instinctive move to brace. “Yeah, I don't know when I've been so bored by anyone, but then most men are bored with women with brains and guts, especially when they're softhearted and hardheaded. Nothing puts me to sleep faster than a woman who'll sweat all day to make sure her kids are provided for. God knows you're not sexy. I just didn't have anything better to do last night than to spend it going crazy over you.”

He'd trapped her against the sink with his body and with an anger so ripe she could almost taste it. “You asked and I answered. I don't know what you want me to say now.”

“I want you to say you don't give a damn about him.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, his face close to hers. “I want you to tell me what I told you to tell me when I was inside you, when I was so full of you I couldn't breathe. You're mine, Suzanna. Nothing that happened before counts because you're mine now. That's what I want to hear.”

His hands slipped down to clamp over her wrists. Even as she opened her mouth to speak he saw the quick wince of pain. Swearing, he looked down and saw the bruises he'd already put on her. He jerked back as if she'd slapped him.

“Holt –”

He raised a hand to silence her, turning away until he could clear the red haze of fury from his mind.

He'd put marks on her skin. It had been done in passion and without intention, but that didn't erase them. By putting them there, he was no better than the man who had bruised her soul.

He jammed his hands into his pockets before he turned. “I've got things to do.”

“But –”

“We got off the track, Suzanna. My fault. I know you have to get to work, and so do I.”

So that was that, she thought. She'd bared her soul, now he would walk away. “All right I'll see you on Monday.”

With a nod, he headed for the back door, then swore, stopping with his hand on the screen. “Last night meant something to me. Do you understand that?”

She let out a quiet breath. “No.”

His hand curled into a fist on the screen. “You're important to me. I care about you, and having you here, this way, is...I need you. Is that clear enough?”

She studied him – a fist on the door, impatience in his eyes, his body rigid with passions she couldn't quite understand. It was enough, she realized. For now it was more than enough.

“Yes, I think it's clear.”

“I don't want it to end there.” He turned his head, and his eyes were dark and fierce again. “It's not going to end there.”

She continued to study his face, keeping her voice calm. “Are you asking me to come back?”

“You know damn well –” He cut himself off and closed his eyes. “Yes, I'm asking you to come back. And I'm asking you to think about spending time with me that isn't at work or in bed. If that doesn't spell it out for you, then –”

“Would you like to come to dinner?” He gave her a blank stare. “What?”

“Would you like to come to dinner, tonight? Maybe we could take a drive after.”

“Yeah.” He dragged a hand through his hair, not sure if he was relieved or uneasy that it had been so simple. “That would be good.”

Yes, it would be good, she thought and smiled. “I'll see you about seven then. Bring Sadie if you like.”