Our taxi pulls up in front of Jamie’s apartment building – an older, two-story red brick building with four units, two up and two down. We dash out of the taxi, through the light rain, and up the well-worn stone steps to the front entrance.

Sam punches a code into a high-tech security panel that looks sorely out of place on this old, turn-of-the-century building. It’s no coincidence that the owner of the building installed an upgraded security system a week before Jamie moved in – on the same day ownership of the building changed hands. It’s not public knowledge, either. No one else knows that Shane bought the building about an hour after his brother signed the lease. Shane said he wouldn’t stand in the way of his brother moving out on his own, but he sure as hell would do everything in his power to ensure his brother’s safety.

“After you, ladies,” Sam says, opening the massive wooden door for us.

Inside, there’s a small vestibule with four antique, brass mail compartments embedded in the wall, an abandoned church pew for a bench, and a brass umbrella stand. The black-and-white checkerboard floors are original to the building, but they’re spotless. On the first floor are two apartments, one on each side of the central staircase. Up the stairs are the other two apartments.

Jamie’s unit is on the second floor, to the left of the stairs. There’s no elevator in this old building, so the three of us head up the wide staircase. When we reach the second floor, I notice Shane waiting outside the door to Jamie’s apartment, his hands propped on his hips as he watches us approach.

Just looking at him sets butterflies loose in my belly. He looks devastatingly handsome in faded blue jeans and a plain, navy blue T-shirt that hugs his arm and chest muscles. Right now, he looks nothing like the demanding CEO who successfully manages a business worth a fortune. No, right now he’s just the big brother of the McIntyre clan, waiting on his girlfriend.

His short brown hair is slightly tousled, as usual, the result of him running his fingers through it, and even from here, I can see the bright blue of his eyes. Just looking at him makes my heart ache.

I still can’t believe he’s mine.

But there’s a niggling little voice inside my head that reminds me, He wasn’t always yours. He was engaged once before. The realization makes me feel sick.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says when I reach the door. He pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. “Done so soon? What happened? I thought you were having fun.”

I tilt my face up to give him a weak smile and sigh. “It was just too loud and crowded. I... I was ready to leave.”

He frowns. “I would have come to get you. All you had to do was call.”

I shrug, as Lia and Sam file past us into the apartment. “There was no need. Lia and Sam were ready to go too.”

He lays his arm across my shoulders and leads me inside, closing the door behind us. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I need my lucky charm.”

“Are you down?”

He grins. “No. In fact, I’m up a couple hundred bucks, and I have no intention of giving it back. I just need you with me, that’s all.”

I glance over at the kitchen table, where five guys are crowded around a small oval table, apparently in the middle of a poker hand. Shane’s three brothers – Jake, Jamie, and Liam – are seated at the table, along with Cooper and Jonah.

Jonah’s face lights up when he sees Lia, and he beckons her over with an outstretched arm covered in intricate black tattoos. She joins him at the table, laying her arm across his shoulders, and studies his cards. He leans into her, and she kisses his temple as he picks up a card.

Watching them, I can’t help but smile. It’s so good to see them like this. It’s good to see Lia so relaxed and happy.

Sam hovers awkwardly just inside the door, as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. That’s so not like Sam, who’s often the life of the party and usually quite comfortable no matter where he is and what he’s doing.

“Hey, Sam,” Jamie says, not missing a beat as he lays his bet on the table. “Make yourself at home. There’s plenty of food and drink in the kitchen. Pizza, hot wings, beer, pop. Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” Sam says. He scans the occupants at the table, then heads for the kitchen.

I notice Cooper’s gaze tracking Sam as he heads for the kitchen. Then Cooper goes back to studying his cards.

Jamie’s apartment is small and very modest. There’s just this open room, with a kitchen, dining table, and living room, and down the hallway is a bathroom and two small bedrooms, one of which serves as Jamie’s office where he writes his military thrillers. The guy makes a good living writing and publishing best-sellers, but he doesn’t flaunt his success and he likes to keep things simple.

Shane turns me to face him, his big hands cradling my face. His blue eyes are intent as he searches my gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Sometimes I could swear he’s a mind reader. I shake my head and smile in an attempt to mask my stupid insecurities. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He studies me for a moment, and without taking his eyes off me, he says, “Jamie, do you mind if we borrow your office for a few minutes?”

Jamie sets down his beer bottle and picks up his cards, running his fingertips across the Braille markings in the top corner. “Of course not. Second door down the hall, on the right.”

Shane takes my hand and leads me to the office, pulling me inside a quiet, dark room. He flips on the light switch, then closes the door, shutting us in. “Now talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what’s wrong. And don’t say nothing, because I know something when I see it.”

I look away before my expression reveals too much of what I’m feeling. My gaze skims over the bare bones computer desk and chair, leather sofa, and coffee table to the room’s only window, which opens out onto a wrought-iron balcony overlooking the walled-in garden. It’s dark out, but I happen to know there are two lush potted trees out on the balcony along with two folding chairs.

I’m looking anywhere but at Shane because I honestly don’t know what to say to him. My emotions are rioting right now, leaping from confusion to hurt to... anger. I know he had a lot of relationships in his life before we met. He’s been very upfront with me about that. And it’s to be expected... after all, the man’s thirty-five, and he’s a very desirable catch. Of course he had a life before he met me. I don’t want to come across as naive and jealous, but that’s exactly how I’ll sound if I say anything.

“Beth.”

He might be doing a good job of tamping down his frustration, but I’m not. I pull away from him. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired. Why don’t you go back to your game? I’ll sit in the living room and read for a while.”

He reaches for my hands and pulls me back. Shane is nothing if not persistent and patient. “Did something happen at the club?”

There’s a very good reason why I never play poker – because I don’t have a poker face. I can’t hide anything. My face broadcasts every single emotion I’m feeling, and Shane’s a master at reading body language. I look at him defiantly, and my body heats with embarrassment as tears prick the back of my eyes.

His expression hardens. “What happened? Either you tell me now, or I’ll ask Lia.”

I sigh, knowing Lia will rat me out in a heartbeat. “Fine! Luciana Morelli happened! Why didn’t you tell me you were engaged to her?”

Just hearing myself say the words aloud releases a rush of anxiety, and right on its heels comes a flood of anger. “I knew you dated her, but you never told me you wanted to marry her!” My voice cracks with emotion, and I’m sure they heard me in the dining room. Now I wish I hadn’t said anything.

As Shane’s gaze darkens, the bottom drops out of my stomach, leaving me feeling hollow and shaky. He’s not denying it, so it must be true.

“What did she say to you?” His words are clipped, his voice tight. I can tell he’s holding on to his temper.

“She told me you two were engaged.”

“We were engaged, yes,” he says matter of factly, keeping his expression neutral. “But not for long. I knew within a few months that it was a mistake. It ended well before I met you, sweetheart.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looks honestly perplexed. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“You almost married her! How is that not relevant? She’s still wearing your ring, Shane! She showed it to me. She practically shoved it in my face!”

His jaws tighten as he frowns. “She wanted to keep the ring, so I let her. I didn’t care. That ring didn’t mean a thing to me. It was just a piece of jewelry.”

 “I would hardly call an engagement ring just a piece of jewelry. Besides, she thinks it means something. She’s still wearing it!”

I hate how my voice rises and shakes, and I know I’m close to breaking down. My heart is pounding and my lungs feel like they’re being squeezed in a giant fist. I’m close to a panic attack or an asthma attack, or with my luck, both. “She said she could just snap her fingers and you’d come running back to her.”

“Hey, shh,” he says, stepping closer as he runs his hands up and down my arms, trying to soothe me. “Take a deep breath and relax.”

I close my eyes and shudder as an icy shiver skitters down my spine.

His voice softens. “Beth, sweetheart, look at me.”

I glance up at him through teary eyes and give voice to the thought that scares me the most. “I think she wants you back.” And dear God, if he wants to go back to her, I don’t think I’ll survive.

“Is that what she told you?” he says, fighting a grin. “That she broke it off?”

I nod. “Well, not in so many words. But that’s what she meant. She said you’d come running back to her if she gave you the chance.”

He chuckles. “Honey, I’m the one who broke it off with her. And, trust me, I have absolutely no interest in Luciana.” He breathes out a heavy sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry she upset you tonight. Don’t worry, I’ll have a talk with her. She won’t bother you again, I promise.”

“No!” I grab his wrists. “I don’t want you to talk to her. Please, promise me you won’t.”

He looks at me skeptically. “Sweetheart – ”

“Please, Shane. Promise me.”

After a long pause, he nods reluctantly. “All right, I won’t talk to her. But only if you promise to stop worrying.” He lifts my hand and kisses my engagement ring. “This is the only ring that means anything to me, sweetheart. This ring represents my heart and soul, and it’s safely attached to your left hand. End of story, okay?”

He pulls me into his arms, warming me with his body heat. I press my face against the soft T-shirt molded to his chest and close my eyes tightly, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. Despite my resolve not to cry, tears leak out, dampening his shirt, and I step back, wiping them awkwardly from my cheeks.

Shane maneuvers me to the sofa, where he sits and pulls me down onto his lap. I sink into his arms and he holds me close, propping his chin on my shoulder. “Honey, I told you about Luciana months ago. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you.”

“But you asked her to marry you, Shane. You must have loved her.”

He sighs. “I wouldn’t go that far, sweetheart. I wanted something more in my life and, at the time, I thought marrying Lucy was the answer. I quickly realized I was wrong. It soon became readily apparent that we each wanted very different things out of life.”

He brings my hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “When I realized Luciana wasn’t the one, I ended it. Our engagement was a mistake from the beginning – one I deeply regretted back then, and even more so now, because she doesn’t hold a candle to you, and I hate that this is hurting you.”

My eyes latch onto the delicate ring on my left hand – the ring Shane put there just a few weeks ago. The slim gold band looks demure and elegant, and my heart skips a beat. Don’t let her do this to you, I tell myself. Don’t let Luciana ruin this. That’s what she wants.

 Shane gives me a crooked smile that melts my heart. His blue eyes crinkle at the corners, and I can’t help smiling back. And this time, it’s a genuine smile.

“Elizabeth Marie Jamison, you are the love of my life,” he says, pressing my palm flat to his chest, right over his heart. I can feel his heart beating, strong and steady. “My past is just that – the past. You are my present and my future. Please, don’t ever doubt that.”

His free hand slips around the back of my head and he pulls me close for a kiss. His lips are warm and gentle as they meld with mine, coaxing me into a deeper, lush kiss. I can’t help that my lips are trembling against his, and that our kiss is flavored with the salt of my tears.

Shane releases my hand, and I lay it against his cheek, feeling the brush of his short beard against my palm. I stroke his cheekbone with my thumb as our lips cling together.

“Shane,” I breathe, savoring his heat and the taste of him.

He pulls back and studies me, then wipes a few errant tears from my cheeks. “I’m going to marry you, you know,” he says.

I nod, smiling through my tears. “I know.”

Our quiet moment is interrupted by a brusque knock on the door.

“Are you still in the game, Shane?” Cooper says, his voice low and gruff. “Lia’s filling in for you, and she’s betting a little recklessly with your money.”

“Just a minute,” Shane says, laughing. “I’m coming. Try to stall her.”

Then he looks at me. “Are we good?”

I nod, taking a shaky breath.

“Beth... nothing that happened in my past means anything to me now. You’re the only one who matters, do you understand that? The only one.”

I smile, taking his words to heart and doing my best to bury my insecurities.

“Do you want to go home?” he says, as we rise from the sofa. “I’d be happy to take you home now if that’s what you want.”

“No, I’m fine. Go play your game. I’ll sit on the sofa and read for a while.”