Frustrated with his persistence to the point of tears she absolutely refused to let him see, she pulled her travel bag to the bedroom door. “I’m not going to argue with you any longer. I’m going to bed and I would prefer that you’re gone when I get up in the morning. Please lock the door on your way out.”
Without looking back, she walked into the bedroom, closed and locked the door, then leaned back against it. She couldn’t imagine what Blake thought he could say to explain his actions or why he even cared to try. On the flight back to Seattle, she’d faced the brutal reality of the situation. No matter what he’d told her, Blake had never intended for their marriage to work. He’d never even told her what his life in Wyoming was really like! For that matter, she couldn’t imagine why he’d married her to begin with. He’d probably been immensely relieved when she’d refused to join him on the ranch eight months ago.
It suddenly occurred to her that he might be here now to make sure she wasn’t going to go after his money or try to take part of his ranch. The divorce wasn’t final yet, after all.
“He doesn’t need to worry,” she murmured as she walked into the adjoining bathroom to brush her teeth. Even if he offered her a settlement, she would tell him what he could do with it. She had never wanted anything from him but his love, his respect and his honesty.
But even though he hadn’t given her any of that, her heart had stalled and she’d barely resisted the urge to run into his arms when she first saw him sitting on her step. Nothing would have made her happier than to have him hold her close and tell her that it would all be all right and they could work things out.
As she looked in the mirror at the miserable woman staring back at her, Karly couldn’t help but wonder if she’d lost her mind. How could Blake possibly look so darned good to her when he was the last person in the world she should want to see? Or trust?
* * *
Sitting at the small table in Karly’s breakfast nook, Blake shifted in his chair in an effort to relieve the kinks in his back from sleeping on her couch. Sometime around midnight, he’d decided the damn thing should be certified as an instrument of torture. Not only had both of his feet gone to sleep from hanging over the end of it, but there was also a definite sag in the middle that had his back feeling like it had been broken in several places.
But as uncomfortable as it had been, there was no way he was going to leave this apartment until she heard what he had to say—even if he had to sleep on that damn couch all week. After he’d laid it all on the line, then if she still wanted to kick him to the curb, he’d somehow find the strength to bow out of the picture—even if it killed him—and let her go. The bottom line was and always had been that he loved her and wanted nothing but her happiness. He could only hope that happiness included him.
“I thought you’d be gone by now,” she said when she walked into the tiny kitchen carrying a box of tissues. Her eyes were red and puffy and he knew she’d spent most of the night crying. Just knowing he was the cause of her distress nearly killed him.
But as he continued to look at her, his heart stalled. With her long blond hair slightly mussed from sleep and wearing a nightshirt that was at least two sizes too large and about as shapeless as a tow sack, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her look sexier.
He took a sip of his coffee and shook his head as he tried to focus on what he needed to say to get her to listen. “I’m not going anywhere until we talk.”
“I have to go to work,” she said, placing the box on the table and walking over to pour herself a cup of the coffee he’d made earlier.
“I’ll be here when you get home.” He shrugged. “Whether it’s now or later, we are going to discuss this, Karly.”
She stared at him for several long seconds before she closed her eyes as if trying to find patience. When she opened them, the emotional pain he detected in the blue depths just about tore him apart. The thought that he was the cause of that sadness was more than he could bear.
“Blake, I don’t know what you could possibly say that’s going to make a difference,” she said, sinking into the chair across the table from him. “You obviously didn’t want me to know that you own the Wolf Creek Ranch or that you’re quite wealthy.”