“I don’t.”

I took a deep breath. It hurt to inhale. “Good. And I also think you shouldn’t compare her situation to mine.”

A long pause. “How could I not? The moment I sleep with you, you become a prostitute and I become your john.”

I shook inside. “Is this the reason, then? Why we haven’t—why you keep stopping it?”

He didn’t answer. Even now, he wouldn’t answer. But hadn’t we crossed into this forbidden territory already—whether or not we ever slept together?

“So we won’t do this. Really. I’m okay with it. We can end this here.”

He went still, even holding his breath. “It’s not your decision to make, Emilia. You’re in too deep for that.”

“But why—” He cut me off softly pressing a finger to my lips.

“Remember who’s in control,” he said, his voice edged with exhaustion. And I knew that now was not the time to argue this. Not with him having just laid himself bare to me.

So I didn’t. Instead, I curled in close to him, nestling against his hard chest. He wrapped his arms around me, rested his chin on my head and he slept.

But I couldn’t. Despite the fact that I was utterly exhausted, my mind raced through the ramifications of what had just occurred—of the knowledge I’d just gained. Adam and I would never have sex, because he believed that the minute we did, he’d become like the men who had destroyed his sister.

But could I go through with this after hearing Sabrina’s story? After hearing of the innocent who’d been forced to allow herself to be used? Used and thrown away, like trash. I had refused to think that what I was doing was the same thing as prostitution, but Heath, and then Adam, had rightly corrected me of that notion. And now the implications were finally sinking in.

Chapter Twelve

We slept in almost until noon and had a quick brunch at the breakfast bar in his kitchen. Then he dropped me off at home so I could get some work done on my poor neglected blog.

“Come to family dinner tomorrow night,” he said on my doorstep.

I clenched my jaw. “Are we just going to keep ignoring this?”

His eyes flicked out to the road and then back to me. “Yes or no, Emilia?” And with that evasion, he answered my question: Yes, we are going to keep ignoring this.

I swallowed in a tight throat. “I’ll come.” Because this was almost over and part of me didn’t want it to be. I knew it must be, but I was willing to grab at the few moments that remained.

“Pick you up at six.” As always, he kissed me on the cheek and took the steps two at a time down to his car.

I shut the door and leaned back against it, trying to ignore the aching emptiness I felt whenever he left.

Checking my messages, I saw that both my mom and Heath had tried to reach me. I dialed my mom first and noted right away that she sounded unusually cheery.

“Mia! How are you?”

Still feeling guilty about the way our last phone call had gone, when I’d lied to her, I was buoyed by her high spirits. Was she in love? It sure sounded like something major had happened. Would she tell me, or was this an act to cover for the money situation?

“Hey Mom. I’m doing fine.”

“How are things with your boyfriend?”

I blew out a breath. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“I can be optimistic, can’t I?”

I shifted uncomfortably, twirling a lock of my hair around my forefinger. “I suppose, but that means I can do the same for you. You don’t have someone special in your life, do you?”

“Who am I going to meet up here in crusty old Anza? There are no available men up here who are still in their right mind.”

Good point there. “It’s about time you did find someone. I’ve been out of the house for almost four years.”

“Don’t you worry about me, sweet pea. I’m just fine and feeling better than I have in a long time. Worry about yourself.”

I contemplated that. Either she was putting up a marvelously good front or something had happened. How could this be, if the ranch was about to go into foreclosure? Guessing wasn’t going to get me answers, so I decided it was time to end the silence on this subject. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, as long as it isn’t about my dating,” she said.

I took a deep breath and dove in. “When I was up there in January, I saw some of your mail…”

A long pause. “Uh-huh.”

“I saw the mortgage notices.” I cleared my throat and continued. “They said foreclosure by July. I’ve been waiting for you to inform me yourself, but for some reason you must not think I can handle it.”