Page 64 of Prime Time

“I was married.”

“Divorced?” she asked.

“No. My wife’s dead.”

Her desire to provoke him took one last gasping breath and died. Her teasing smile faded into a shattered, pale expression of deep embarrassment and remorse. Slowly she sat back down in the chair. Unseeingly she stared through the screened back door. A nondescript station wagon was parked just beyond the porch. It hadn’t been visible from the front of the house where she’d parked.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. The only noise in the room was the gurgle of steaming coffee as he poured it into a mug. “Mom didn’t tell me anything about you. I didn’t know.”

“Sugar?”

Her head came up to meet his stunning blue eyes. “Pardon?”

/> “Sugar. For your coffee.”

“Oh, no … no. But cream or milk, please,” she said, taking the mug from his outstretched hand. He went to the refrigerator and removed a carton of half-and-half, which he set on the table within her reach. “Thank you.”