The Best Is Yet to Come. Diana Palmer

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      “Poor, in some ways,” he agreed, smiling faintly while he stared and stared, mesmerized by her beauty. “You’re a nice girl, Ivy,” he mused, and forced his eyes back onto his plate as they all sat down. “I’ll stay at the house, but I appreciate being invited to breakfast. I was starved, and this is delicious,” he added, savoring a bite of perfect scrambled eggs.

      “Thank you,” Jean said, grinning at him.

      “Can Ivy cook like this?” he asked.

      “Of course,” Jean replied.

      Ryder pursed his firm lips and grinned. “My stomach hears wedding bells.”

      Ivy went white. It was the shock, of course, the remembrance of grief, of what she’d lost. Ryder didn’t feel things this deeply, she tried to tell herself, he wouldn’t understand how much it hurt to joke about it, when she had Ben on her conscience. Ben. She’d killed Ben...!

      He caught her just as she went sideways, lifting her gently in his hard arms. “For God’s sake...” he ground out, his face betraying a flash of helpless shock.

      “She’ll get over it,” Jean said. “She’s hardly slept lately, or eaten very much. It’s early days yet, and she loved him.”

      “Yes,” Ryder bit off coldly. “I know.”

      Jean glanced at him and glanced quickly away, because what she’d glimpsed in his face was too private, too hellish, for words. “Here, put her on the sofa. I’ll get a cold cloth.”

      He didn’t reply. He carried his light burden into the living room and put her down gently on the big couch. He knelt beside her, brushing back the long, silky hair from her still face. Like a sleeping princess, he thought irrationally, his eyes lingering, his heart aching...

      He watched those long, thick lashes slowly lift. Her eyes showed confusion and then she smiled at him. His hands in her hair tightened, clenched. It was all he could do not to bend his head that bare inch it would take to feel her soft, sweet lips under his. He was aware of Jean then, of her voice. He didn’t hear what she said, but he got to his feet and moved back to let her put the cloth on Ivy’s head. He felt as if he’d stopped breathing, but Ivy was all right. She was sitting up, now, and looking embarrassed.

      “Sorry about that,” she said. Her eyes went to Ryder, who looked like death walking. “Ryder, I’m so sorry,” she said gently. “It was just...”

      “I know what it was. I’m sorry, too,” he replied tersely. “Perhaps I’d better go.”

      “Without your breakfast?” Ivy asked. “And what for?”

      “I don’t want to upset you any more,” he said.

      Jean mumbled something about putting away the cloth and left the room, but neither of them noticed.

      “You won’t,” Ivy continued, puzzled by that coldness in his eyes.

      “He’s dead,” he said curtly. “Nothing you can say or do or feel or think will bring him back. If the mention of the word wedding has that kind of effect on you...”

      “It doesn’t, normally,” she shot back. “I haven’t been eating properly and I’m just weak!”

      “And touchy,” he added. “After six months, still touchy and nervous and overwrought.”

      “I have a right to be,” she said angrily. “I loved him!” she said. Maybe if she said it enough, she could make herself believe that she had, that she hadn’t cheated her husband because of what she’d felt for Ryder.

      He didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, his face pasty under his tan, his eyes fierce and intent.

      “I did!” she cried. “I did, I did!”

      She put her face in her hands and the tears came, hot under her fingers. “I can’t live like this,” she whispered brokenly.

      “You can, and you will.” He lifted her off the sofa, holding her firmly with both hands. “This has got to stop. Six months is long enough to grieve. You’re going to start living again.”

      “That sounds like a threat. What are you going to do, take me on as a new construction project?” she challenged tearfully. “Remodel me? Renovate me?”

      “Something like that,” he said absently. He whipped out a handkerchief and mopped her up, his fingers deft and sure on her pale face. “Now stop wailing. It upsets me.”

      “Nothing upsets you,” she said, obediently blowing her red nose. “Well, maybe little things do,” she corrected. She smiled faintly. “Like the day your car kept cutting off in traffic and you drove it back to the construction site and dropped a wrecking ball right through the windshield.”

      He chuckled. “Damn it, good enough for it. I’d had it in three different shops and nobody could fix it.”

      “I’d love to hear what you told the insurance company.”

      “I didn’t call the insurance company, I just bought another car,” he said. “From another manufacturer,” he added, grinning.

      “It must be lovely, to have that kind of money.”

      “I can’t eat it,” he said lazily. “Or drink it. Or snuggle up to it on a cold winter night. I could use it for wallpaper, of course, or make cigarettes out of it...”

      “You’re nuts.”

      “Thanks, I’m crazy about you, too. How about breakfast, before I starve to death? Carrying you in here used up my last few ounces of strength.”

      She laughed helplessly. “All right. Come on, bottomless pit.” She frowned suddenly. “You said you ate on the plane...?”

      “When it left Germany,” he replied. “And I’m starving. My God, airlines need to consider hardworking men and pregnant women when they serve food!”

      “You’re obviously a hardworking man, since you’d hardly qualify as the other...hey!”

      He made a vicious swipe at her posterior, and she jumped clear just in time with a shocked laugh.

      “No fighting at the table, children,” Jean said, wagging a finger at them, “or I’ll hide the food.”

      A corner of Ryder’s mouth tugged down as he glared at Ivy, who’d retreated to a strategic position behind her mother.

      “All right. She’s safe. For now.” The way he said it, and the look in his pale eyes, made Ivy melt inside. But she had to pretend that she wasn’t affected. She turned away, making a joke of it, and refused to take him seriously.

      She had to forget what had happened out on the porch. It was disloyal to Ben. She didn’t deserve to be happy. She wouldn’t let herself have Ryder, even if he was finally within her reach, because she’d caused Ben to kill himself with her hopeless longing. It wouldn’t be fair to expect happiness at such a price.

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