Erin crossed her arms over her chest. “Please, don’t take me for a fool. You were married three months before signing your divorce petition.”

“Three years,” she tossed back rather softly.

“The documents are dated,” Erin pointed out matter-of-factly.

“Of course they are. So were the next documents and the next and the next. We went that route more than once. The first time was soon after we were married, probably three months. Those were probably the ones he showed you. In fact, we separated for quite a while—several months. There was always something, though…I’m not sure what it was…We always ended up back together for a while.”

Ew, that caused a shiver to go up Erin’s spine. Chemistry? That thing she was feeling with him now—that irresistible, insatiable hunger? “How long since you’ve actually lived together?”

“A long time,” she admitted. “Four or five years, I think.”

“There was a check,” Erin said. “Also dated…”

“For ten thousand? Yes, that was the reason for the first separation. The abortion. It was a horrible fight. In the end he was very generous, since he didn’t want a baby with me. I went home, saw a very good doctor, spent some time to think things over.” She looked down. “I probably shouldn’t have gone back to him. He was—He wasn’t always easy to get along with, but I probably wasn’t, either. He said I provoked him, and thinking back, maybe I did. I was so young when we got married. Young and not very smart.”

She was very young-looking now, Erin thought—feeling every minute of her thirty-six years. “How young?”

“Eighteen.”

Erin knew she was being taken for a ride here, but she didn’t know how. “You seem to have done quite well for yourself, for a woman so young,” she said, nodding toward the car.

“Thank you, yes,” she said, smiling. “The car is a rental. It’s important in my business to look successful when I’m meeting clients. I’m a fashion buyer and consultant. I was meeting a designer in San Francisco and the car is a business expense. I’ve only been doing it for a couple of years and it’s gone so well for me.”

Erin frowned. “Yet this whole time, longing for your ex-husband?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh, no, it isn’t like that. It’s true—I spent a lot of time wondering how I could have done things better. I regretted our mistakes, of course. I think anyone who goes through a divorce does—but I was moving on. And when I discovered something went wrong with the paperwork, I thought…” She shook her head as if it didn’t really bear mentioning. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Just how did you discover the oversight?” Erin asked.

She lifted her chin. “A man I was seeing for a couple of years asked me to marry him. I told him about my marriage and divorce, of course, as anyone would. He’s the one who discovered it.”

“When are you getting married?” Erin asked.

“That’s looking doubtful now. The gentleman isn’t happy about me meeting with Aiden. But I had to tell Aiden what we’d found out! I couldn’t let him make the same mistake I almost made! What if he remarried and it wasn’t legal?”

“This is all pretty far-fetched….”

“I imagine it seems so. Really, I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little out of my mind to even consider second chances. But I’d like you to know one thing—I might’ve been really young and not terribly experienced, but I loved him. I did. Even though our relationship was full of problems, I still—”

“You met his brothers, I understand,” Erin said.

She laughed very suddenly. “Oh, yes. Only Sean and Luke. I never met Colin and Patrick, but I have no trouble picturing them. There were lots of photographs around our apartment, of course. The Riordan men would kill for each other. Quite the band of brothers there. Be careful—don’t cross one of them.” Then she laughed humorlessly. “God, what am I doing? I can see I’m just making a giant fool of myself. Again.”

“Wait a second. You’ll be needed to sign new documents….”

“Aiden can call me—he knows how to reach me if he wants me, which he seems to every now and then.”

“What does that mean?”

“We haven’t lived together in a few years, but he stays in touch.”

“Is that so?”

She just made a face and shook her head. “Has Aiden led you to believe we haven’t seen or heard from each other in eight years? Has he really? Well, that wouldn’t come as a surprise—he has a short attention span, my husband. I stayed in San Diego until a couple of years ago, when I finally tried to make a clean break. Please, be so careful. Aiden can make a woman believe anything. And I learned the hard way—it’s dangerous to confront him, to fight with him. He has an ugly little temper.”

“Aiden?” she asked, aghast.

“You haven’t known him very long, have you, Erin?” Her expression was pained, sad. “Be very careful of him. Most of the time he’s an angel, sexiest angel on earth, but he doesn’t handle his anger well. He has a hair trigger.”

Then she gave a wave of her hand and got in her car. She backed up, turned around and drove slowly away from the cabin, down the road.

Erin felt a very creepy chill run through her, but she wasn’t sure where it came from. The perfect little beauty who claimed to want another chance with her soon-to-be ex-husband? Or Aiden, who she thought she knew so intimately but perhaps didn’t really know that well. Aiden, who a couple of days ago grabbed her harshly in anger.

She’d prefer to think this young woman was lying. The problem was, she had no real way of disputing any of their claims. Either one’s.

In the practice of tax and estate law, people could tell horrendous lies with all the innocence of a sweet baby. Money was at stake, sometimes huge amounts of money. Finger-pointing and swearing on a stack of bibles didn’t cut any grass with the law—everything had to be documented and proven.

How did you prove your boyfriend wasn’t calling his ex-wife? Maybe seeing her from time to time? Who did you believe when the stories were so disparate?

Erin called Ron Preston. “Did your new client, Aiden Riordan, happen to mention where his referral came from?”

“Yes, and thank you very much, Erin.”

“Did he happen to mention why I gave the referral?”

“He met you at that vacation spot where you have the cabin?” he replied by way of a question.

“Hmm. Yes, that’s correct. Met me, became a friend, dated me and now the ex-wife has appeared to state that she’s not an ex-wife. He says they parted company after three months of marriage and haven’t seen each other in eight years. She says they were together three years, filled out divorce papers more than once and have remained in touch.” Physically in touch?

“Erin, I can’t discuss this with you….”

“I understand that, Ron. The problem is, there is no way for me to check either story and I don’t want to be…” She couldn’t finish. Used? Abused? Lied to? Manipulated?

“I understand completely,” Ron said. “You’re emotionally involved, so I’m going to tell you something you already know. When I have a client whose story differs remarkably from the person they oppose in the process, I listen very carefully, check the facts, do everything I can to represent my client, but I don’t necessarily believe them. That doesn’t mean he or she is lying, it means that there are many assertions that are simply impossible to clarify. This is just about process, Erin. May the better man win.”

“And if one of the by-products is that I’m emotionally decimated in the process?” she asked sarcastically.

“There’s no law that says you have to believe everything you hear. Slow down. Don’t leave yourself open.”

She sighed deeply. “Thanks,” she said. “Really, thanks. I needed to hear that. I hate it, but I needed to hear it.”

“I suspect this will be resolved soon enough. Guard your flanks. And your fanny.”

“Oh! That’s crude!” she snapped at him.

“Do it anyway,” he said. “Gotta run. Marriages are falling apart everywhere I look.”

She hung up. That was why she hated him—because he was cold and went in for the kill. And that was why she had a grudging respect for him, because he didn’t get emotionally involved. And where did that leave her? Aching for a man she was just a little afraid to believe in.

Thirteen

Mel Sheridan had a very busy week, beginning with being awake most of Wednesday night with Shelby Riordan. It was getting harder, she noticed, to pull those all-nighters and bounce right back. A lot of that could have to do with having two little kids, at least one of whom should be completely potty trained. Emma was two, David three, and when Mel had a sitter, a teenage girl was having more success than she was.

Of course Mel was busy. She had always been busy. The day after Shelby and Luke’s baby arrived, she tried sleeping late, but that didn’t work out. She went to the clinic and saw a few patients. There was a callout from a rancher who was having chest pains—she and Cameron left the clinic to attend to him. They transported him to the hospital and the whole emergency took a long time; Mel was late getting home. She was due a real deep sleep, but Emma didn’t feel well. She and Jack were up during the night changing pajamas, diapers, sheets, and Jack said, “I hope to hell whatever this is doesn’t go through the whole family.”

It was the weekend before things seemed to calm down. Mel indulged herself a little with some catch-up—she got her house in order, called Leslie Carpenter to babysit so she could visit Shelby and the new baby, then took a long soak in the tub and joined the kids during nap time, resting up.

She needed a little quality time with her husband.

She fed her children, got them settled in bed early and Jack escaped from the bar, bringing their dinner. Since the kids were asleep, she went to some trouble; she put place mats and candles on the table. When Jack had dished up their dinner and they sat down together in a clean, quiet house, she said, “Lord, what a crazy week!”

“I agree. You feel okay? Because whatever had Emma all upside down and not feeling well, no one else seems to be sick.”

“I feel fine,” she said. “David’s fine. I felt it was safe to go out to the Riordans’ to see them because forty-eight hours had passed with no symptoms of any kind.”

“And the Riordans are okay?”

“They’re on a honeymoon with little Brett. He hasn’t really found his voice yet. Any second he’s going to let them know he has truly arrived.”

Jack chuckled. Newborns had a tendency to be very quiet, just eat and sleep the first few days, and then bam! They let you know they’re a member of the family, with needs.

“When I was delivering the baby I had a thought. I wondered if our surrogate would be open to the idea of me delivering our baby.”

Jack’s chin dropped. He put down his fork.

“Okay, that was pretty obvious,” Mel said to him. “What’s your problem?”

He lifted his gaze. “My first problem is that I don’t want to spoil the only dinner we’ve had together in almost a week….”

“And your second problem?”

“I don’t want to do the surrogate thing.” There. He’d said it. Not exactly as he was committed to saying it—that it was off the table. He hadn’t said he refused. God, he hoped she’d hear him this time.

But she slowly and carefully cut off a slice of meat—Preacher’s outstanding pork roast in dark gravy—and lifted it in a leisurely fashion to her mouth. She chewed. She swallowed. “I understand that some men have a real resistance to the process, which is why I wanted you to discuss it with John Stone. He’s familiar and comfortable with the whole thing. It’s pretty routine.”

“Not for me,” he said. “I don’t want to.”

“For God’s sake, Jack. Just have a conversation with John about—”

“I did,” he said. “I had a long talk with John. I told him how I was feeling about it and he wasn’t much help. Except to say that I needed to be a little more direct with you and give you the bottom line—I’m not doing it. I don’t want a woman I don’t know having a baby for us. Not under our circumstances.”

Her expression was at first shocked, but then it melted into some kind of softness, like understanding. “Believe me, by the time the baby is ready to arrive, we’ll know her very well.”

He shook his head. “Listen, will you listen? I’m almost insanely happy that we accidentally had these two kids…you and the kids are my world. My whole world. Before you came into my life I had accepted that I wouldn’t have kids. I didn’t like that I had to accept being alone my whole life, but I had accepted it. Then you came along and rocked my world. If you’d come to me infertile and told me it meant everything to you to have one of our own—our DNA that will pee on a tree in the middle of a public picnic—I’d do this thing. Mel, I would if it were the only way.”

“Don’t look now, Jack. It is the only way.”

“The only way to have a third child. But we already have a couple of kids. I’m satisfied with that.”

“And I’m not!” she said sharply.

“Why not?” he asked. “Is it because your uterus was stolen during an emergency? We never talked about a lot of kids. The first one scared you to death and you complained about getting caught with the second one.”