A Proper Wife

“Truly, I cannot.”

“Truly, you can.”

“Sir, I have already said—”

“I know what you said.” Ryan’s jaw thrust forward, his green eyes glittering dangerously. “And I know what I said. Now, what’s it going to be, pal? A table? Or a little man-to-man chat?”

Color swept into the captain’s face. He spun on his heel, marched them past several interested diners, and led them to a booth.

Devon kept her head up and her eyes fixed straight ahead until they were seated. Then she leaned forward and shot a furious look at Ryan.

“Are you incapable of behaving civilly?” she snapped.

“I am incapable of suffering fools gladly,” Ryan snapped back. “Now, what do you want for lunch?”

“What are you so upset about, Ryan? I should think a ‘man about town’ like you wouldn’t be the least bit put off by running into his mistress with his—with me at his side!”

“Sharon is not my mistress.”

“Sorry. Wrong terminology. I meant to say your lover.”

“She’s not that, either. She told you, our relationship ended months ago.”

“Yes.” Devon smiled, but it felt as if there was a knife twisting in her heart. “Five months and three weeks ago, to be precise.”

Ryan gave her a long, hard look. “Listen,” he growled...

Two heavy vellum menus clattered onto the tabletop. Ryan looked up sharply. A waiter was standing over them, his face even more frozen than the captain’s.

“Are you ready to order?”

“How could we be?” Ryan said through his teeth. “You only just delivered the damned menus—and by air express!”

“Ryan,” Devon said, “please.”

He took a deep breath. “OK. OK. Devon, what would you like?”

Devon shook her head. “I—I don’t want lunch. I told you, I’d have been happy with a—”

“A hot dog,” Ryan said.

The waiter recoiled as if he’d been struck. “Is that a joke, sir?”

“Do I look as if I’m joking?” Ryan’s lips drew back from his teeth in a cold approximation of a smile. “The lady will have a hot dog. I’ll have the same thing. On rolls, with mustard and sauerkraut.”

“But—” The waiter’s eyes met Ryan’s. “Of course,” he said stiffly.

Ryan took a deep breath after the man was gone. Hell, he thought, what was he so angry about? What was Devon so angry about? Damn Sharon anyway, for trying to stir up trouble.

He leaned forward across the table.

“Devon, listen to me. Sharon’s not important. Let’s forget all about her, OK?”

Devon hesitated. She wanted to believe him. But first, she had a question to ask. Every bone in her body told her not to ask it, but she could no more have kept it in than she could have stopped breathing.

“Ryan? Is... is that where you were?” she said softly. “All the nights you came home late, were you with her?”

Ryan looked as if she’d struck him.