I…” He swore beneath his breath and shook his head. “I don’t know how.”

Payton’s eyes widened and her heart slammed into her rib cage. She’d thought he was so indifferent. She’d thought he was oblivious to her. “It’s just because we were married once,” she answered huskily. “It’s because we were…involved.”

His laugh mocked her. “I’ve been involved with lots of women before and felt absolutely nothing when they entered the room.” His dark gaze slid over her, and heat sparked in his eyes, heat and anger. “But I can’t let this happen. I can’t let the attraction destroy everything again. And it would destroy Marilena. She deserves so much better.”

He was warning her. Warning them both and their eyes met from across the room and held.

A door slammed in the front of the house. “Marco!” Marilena’s tremulous voice echoed in the entry. “Marco, are you here?”

Marco and Payton’s gaze remained locked for another moment before he abruptly turned away.

Marilena appeared in the salon. “I was so stupid,” she choked, rushing to Marco’s side. “I was upset and not paying attention.”

Marco lifted a hand to her temple. “You’re bleeding.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What happened?”

“I ran a light. Wasn’t thinking—I was upset, about us, crying, I think—and went through the light. I didn’t even brake.”

“Santo Cielo! Come sta?”

“Bene. I’m fine, but the car—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does. I love that car. You gave it to me.”

“So I’ll get you a new one. Stand still. Let me look at you.” He was lifting her chin, scrutinizing her pale face. “How did you hurt your head?”

“I bumped it on something. The window, or the steering wheel. But it’s nothing.”

“You need to see a doctor. I’m going to take you to the hospital.” Marco turned and caught sight of Payton.

They stood there a split second, eyes locked, both remembering what had just passed between them and then Marco slipped an arm around the princess and steered her through the front door to his waiting car.

 

Payton waited for Marco to call. The girls played with their dolls, dressing and undressing the baby dolls with Velcro fasteners in their nightgowns, while Payton stared at the phone.

Waiting, she thought, was always the hard part.

The days used to seem endless when Payton first left Milan for San Francisco.

The first six weeks had been the worst. Time took on a life of its own, time stretching, weighting, consuming her until Payton felt possessed by loss.

She had fixated on the phone. Maybe he’d call.