Chapter Two

Without waiting for Cooper’s reply, Shea clamped a hand around Isobel’s fine-boned wrist and tugged her to her feet with a punch of force.

“What are you doing?” Riotous color rushed into her cheeks. “I’m in the middle of—”

With a savage snarl, he pivoted and strode toward the exit.

She stumbled along behind him. “Shea, you can’t barge in here—”

He whirled. She drew up abruptly but not before she crashed into his chest.

“You are my wife, Isobel.” He spoke in a low, lethal voice. “Whether or not that means anything to you, it is a fact.”

She lifted her chin, bringing her mouth a whisper from his. “Whether it means anything to me? I’m not the one who walked away.”

“That isn’t fair and you damn well know it.”

Standing nose-to-nose with his estranged wife in the middle of the island’s most popular eatery, Shea was acutely aware of the intrusive glances from their friends and neighbors. Indeed, they were all that stopped him from giving in to the primitive need to claim her mouth… and more.

A spark of fire flashed in her gray eyes. “Don’t you dare talk to me about what is and isn’t fair.”

“Your date is over.”

Her anger erupted as a shocked gasp. “How dare you.”

Years of impotent rage churning in his gut, he hauled her into a darkened room off the main dining area, out of sight of the prying eyes.

“How dare I?” When she scurried from his reach, he pursued her until her back came up hard against the wall. “I’m not the one traipsing around town with another man.”

She drove her palms into his chest, as if to hold back his fury. “I am not traipsing. I don’t even know what that means.”

“Are you fucking Cooper Spence?”

Emotion distorted her expression, but she ducked her chin before he could pick apart the reaction. “So what if I am?”

“I’ll kill him.”

She rolled her eyes, then risked a closer study of his face.

A frisson of alarm chased across her features. “Do not kill Cooper.”

He promised her nothing.

She sighed, and the sound held more weariness than frustration. “Shea, what are you doing here? How did you even know where I was?”

“Finn told me.”

“You talked to Finn? What did you say? If you upset him again—”

Shea cursed. “Finn’s fine. I needed—” He swallowed the hard lump lodged in his throat. “I needed to know you’re okay.”

The spot between her perfectly arched eyebrows puckered. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The storm,” he said. “It’s a bad one.”

“It’s storming?” Her gaze darted to the windows on the far wall, which were covered with heavy drapery. “I didn’t know…”

Instinctively, his hand sought hers. With his fingertips, he stroked the center of her palm and when her muscles relaxed, he nudged his fingers between hers, entwining them tightly together.

“It’s supposed to pass quickly,” he murmured while the pad of his thumb rubbed the racing pulse point on the inside of her wrist.

Her breathing hitched and her lips parted, drawing his gaze to her lush mouth. His fingers traced the curve of her cheek. Then his touch trailed lower, down the side of her neck to the elegant line of her collarbone.

“Isobel…” He pressed the length of his body against hers and dipped his head. “Let me take you home.”

The column of her throat worked when she swallowed. “I have to go back.”

He bristled. “I told you, your date is over.”

“It’s not a date.” His disbelief must’ve shown on his face because she restated the words. “It’s not. But…”

Just then, his questing fingertips stroked the crease on the inside of her ring finger. A scowl dragged at his features and a cold, revolting rage unfurled inside him.

“Where is your wedding ring?”

She blinked rapidly. “Wh-what?”

“Your. Wedding. Ring.” He hated the tremor in his voice, but he couldn’t suppress it any more than he could banish the anger and betrayal from his heart. “Where the fuck is it? Why aren’t you wearing it?”

“Oh, uh, I…” With a frown, she disentangled their hands.

“Did you lose it? I swear to God, Isobel, if you—”

Her trembling fingers fumbled with the top button of her blouse and then yanked apart the flimsy fabric. A silver chain gleamed in the dim lighting, and there, nestled between her ample breasts, rested the small circlet of her wedding band. Over her heart.

Air leaked from him and he dropped his forehead against hers. He caressed the cold metal sphere. Beneath his touch, the smooth caramel skin of her chest rose and fell with each rapid, ragged breath she hauled into her lungs. When he skimmed the swell of one soft breast, a soft gasp escaped her.

Just like that, the flare of passion that once ruled their relationship ignited.

He swooped down to claim her mouth, devouring her with greedy nips and licks. He’d been starving so long, the hunger overcame him. It controlled him, compelling him to taste more, take more. Too ravenous and desperate to savor her flavor, he feasted on her with a wild recklessness that threatened to consume him.

“Isobel.” Her name was a plea.

She made a sound like a broken sob, and he pulled back to peer down into her face.

Her eyes, the color of the summer sky before a refreshing rain, held the mystery of a thousand unspoken desires. His cock jumped, and he scraped the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Shea, what are we doing?” The quiet sadness in her voice wrenched his heart.

He knew what she was asking him, but he didn’t like the answers available to him. “It’s just a kiss.”

Glassy moisture glistened in her eyes.

“We’re… we’re working on it.”

“We’ve been working on it for two years.” A despairing wail crept into her tone. “We can’t even talk without fighting.”

“Then let’s not fight. Isobel… please…” He dipped his head and nuzzled the side of her neck.

“It’s not that easy. We can’t fix this, Shea. If we could, we would’ve done so by now.”

His mouth on her throat, he tasted the bitter vileness of her words. Slowly, he lifted his head. “What are you saying?”

“I’m so tired,” she whispered. “Maybe it’s time we… let go.”

The world tipped beneath his feet as all the agony and anger amassed in the past several years surged, slicing and slashing at him.

“No.” With the denial, he gripped her arms.

“Shea—”

“We took vows, Isobel.”

“Because we loved each other,” she said. “But whatever we once felt, it’s gone now.”

“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut and his mouth brushed her temple. “Never.”

“Then it’s too changed to be of any use to us now.”

“Stop this.” His hold on her tightened. “Please, just stop.”

“Two years, Shea.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “For two years we’ve been…”

Living like ghosts. Dying inside.

She didn’t have to say the words. He knew. Lord, did he know.

“Maybe it’s time we move on.”

His world closed in on him. Hauling her tight against his chest, he buried his face in the sweet-smelling curtain of her hair. “Please, Isobel… I can’t… I can’t give you what you’re asking.”

He’d built his life around this woman. How could he go on without her? How could she ask him to? In his arms, she lifted her face up to his. A mere whisper of a breath separated their mouths.

Behind them, someone cleared their throat.

Shea turned his head to find Cooper Spence holding up a packet of trifold papers.

“I’ll, uh, just leave these with you, then?”

Slowly, Shea dropped his arms and twisted toward the smaller man.

Cooper shrank back and his panicked gaze darted to Isobel. “I’ll finish reviewing your application and call you when a decision has been made.”

“Thank you, Cooper.” She reached for the papers but Shea intercepted the packet. “Good night,” she called cheerily to the loan officer’s retreating back.

Then she fixed Shea with a dark scowl.

He held up the papers. “What’s this?”

“Nothing.” She made a grab at the documents, but he jerked his arm back and held them from her reach.

“Why don’t you want to tell me?” He started to unfold the papers.

“Because it’s none of your business.” She slipped out from between him and the wall and snatched the documents from his hand.

“Wait, did that say business loan?”

“It doesn’t concern you, Shea.”

“As long as we’re still married, it very much concerns me.”

In her rush to get away, she slammed to a stop. A sickening sense of foreboding snaked through him as she turned by slow increments to face him squarely.

“You’re right.” Her expression crumpled. “I’ll file for divorce this week.”

He gasped with pain from the hole she punctured through his heart. Anger rushed in to fill the void.

“We’re not throwing away eighteen years of marriage because you’ve decided you’re done with me. That’s not how this is going to work.”

On a sob, she twisted away from him.

“Goddammit, Isobel, if you think I’m going to let you walk away from us, you’re wrong. I won’t allow it.” Desperation tore at his insides. “You are my wife. Till death do us part. For better or worse, and believe me, things can get much, much worse before this is all over.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and when she looked at him over her shoulder, a stream of silent tears stained her cheeks. “No. No more fighting, Shea. It’s too late for us.”