"Then will you go out to dinner with me tonight?"

"Yes." My fingers curled tightly around the phone. I wondered what I was doing, agreeing to a date with Hardy Cates. My family would have a fit. "I like to eat early," I told him.

"So do I."

"Come to my apartment at six?"

"I'll be there."

After he hung up, I sat quietly for a few minutes, thinking.

I knew Dad would say I had no idea what I was getting into, going out with Hardy Cates. But when you started dating someone, you could never be sure what you were getting into. You had to give someone a chance to show you who he really was . . . and believe him when he did.

I dressed in jeans and high heels and a daffodil-colored halter top with a sparkly pin anchoring one strap to the bodice. Using a straightening iron, I worked on my hair until it was shiny and the ends were all turned up. Since the weather was humid, I used a minimum of makeup, just a touch of mascara and cherry-colored lip stain.

It occurred to me that I was a lot more nervous about the idea of sleeping with Hardy than I had been with Nick as a virgin. Probably because with the first guy, you figured you got a beginner's pass. With the second one, however, something more would be expected. It hadn't helped that I had recently taken a women's-magazine quiz entitled "Are You Good in Bed?" and my score had put me in the category of Inhibited Babe, and had given all kinds of suggestions for enhancing my "carnal abilities," most of which sounded unsanitary, uncomfortable, or just plain unsightly.

By the time I heard the doorbell ring, a few minutes before six, the tension had collected until my entire skeleton felt like it had been fastened with tight metal screws. I opened the door. But it wasn't Hardy.

There stood my ex-husband, dressed in a suit and tie, perfectly groomed and smiling. "Surprise," he said, and grabbed my arm before I could move.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I reeled back, trying to break free, but he followed me across the threshold. Nick's smile never wavered. I knocked his hand away from me and faced him, trying to keep the alarm from showing on my face.I was in the middle of a nightmare. I thought it couldn't be real, except that misery and fear and anger were swarming over me like insects, and that feeling was all too familiar. It had been my reality for almost two years.

Nick looked healthy, fit, a little heavier than he'd been during our marriage. The new roundness of his face emphasized a boyishness that wouldn't sit well as he aged. But overall he gave the appearance of a clean-cut, prosperous, conservative guy.

Only someone who knew him like I did would be aware of the monster inside.

"I want you to leave, Nick."

He gave a bemused laugh, as if my quiet hostility were coming out of left field. "My God, Marie. I haven't seen you in months, and that's the first thing you say?"

"I didn't invite you here. How did you find my apartment? How did you get past the concierge?" David never let nonresidents into the building without first getting approval.

"I found out where you were working, and I went to your office. Just talked to your manager, Vanessa — she told me you lived here in the building. She gave your apartment number and said to go right on up. Nice girl. Said she'd show me around Houston whenever I want."

"You two have a lot in common," I said tersely. Damn Vanessa! I had told her enough about my past to make her aware that I was not on good terms with my former husband. No surprise that she would make use of any opportunity to cause trouble.

Nick ventured farther into my apartment.

"What do you want?" I asked, backing away.

"Just thought I'd drop by and say hi. I'm in town to interview for a job with an insurance company. They need an estimator. I'm sure I'll get it — I'm totally the best guy for the position."

He was interviewing for a job in Houston? I was sick at the thought. A city with a population of two million was still not big enough for me to share with my ex-husband.

"I'm not interested in your career plans." I tried to keep my voice steady. "You and I have nothing to do with each other anymore." I moved toward the phone. "Leave, or I'll have to call for building security."

"Still the drama," Nick murmured, rolling his eyes. "I came to do you a favor, Marie, if you'd let me talk long enough to — "

"Haven," I snapped.

He shook his head, as if he were confronting a small child who was having a temper tantrum. "Okay. Christ. I have some things that belong to you. I'd like to give them back."

"What things?"

"Stuff like a scarf, a purse . . . and that charm bracelet you got from your aunt Gretchen."

I'd had my lawyer request the return of the bracelet, and Nick had claimed it was lost. I had known better, of course. But the chance to have it back caused a stab of longing. That little piece of my past meant a lot to me.

"Great," I heard myself say casually. "Where is it?"

"Back at my hotel. Meet me tomorrow, and I'll bring it."

"Just send it to me."

He smiled. "You can't have something for nothing, Haven. You can have your things back, including that bracelet — but you have to meet me in person. Just to talk. A public place is fine, if that's what you want."

"All I want is for you to leave." I wondered when Hardy would show up. Probably any minute now. And then there was no telling what would happen. Sweat gathered between my skin and clothes, making the fabric adhere in salty patches. "I'm expecting someone, Nick."