He hadn’t gotten over her.
But he would. Just as soon as he got her files out of his house, he’d wash his hands of her for good.
Claire wasn’t sleeping, but she was in bed where she’d spent the whole day, tightly curled up, thinking about David. How could she miss him so much, love him so much, when Isaac affected her as strongly as he did? What did that say about her? Had she been as faithful to David in her heart as she’d believed?
She’d never cheated on him, even though there were moments when the look on Isaac’s face told her he probably wouldn’t turn her away if she decided to pay him a visit. He’d never called her after she’d said “I do,” and she respected him for that, especially since the desire was still there, for both of them. She’d never been able to completely eradicate it, and he had no reason to bother trying. Maybe he didn’t love her, maybe he never had, but he certainly liked getting in her pants. Focusing on what she felt for David and her duty as a wife was the only thing that’d made it possible to stay away from him.
But David was gone.
The doorbell rang. She waited, expecting it to be Leanne again, but no one called out.
Maybe it was a client who wanted a haircut. She took walk-ins on the days she worked, and Tuesday was definitely one of those days.
She hoped whoever it was would go away when she didn’t respond, but that wasn’t the case. The doorbell rang three more times.
“I should’ve put up a sign,” she grumbled, and got out of bed.
The mirror showed her a sleepy face. Red, puffy eyes revealed that she’d been crying. She’d cried so much in the past year she rarely wore makeup anymore. And with her hair falling around her shoulders in a tangled mass of curls, she looked as unkempt as Leanne had said earlier.
The image staring back at her hardly made her eager for company. But who did she have to impress? She wasn’t dating anyone, had no hope of finding romance in Pineview. A few guys asked her out. Rusty Clegg, the sheriff’s deputy who’d probably helped David get hold of her mother’s files, was one who wouldn’t give up. He called incessantly. But he and all the others had been good friends with her and David. She liked them, but there wasn’t any…chemistry.
Shoving her hair out of her face, she grabbed an old woolen robe as whoever was at her door knocked again. July was too hot for such a heavy garment, but Leanne’s reaction to the mark on her neck told her she needed a high collar.
When she noted the size of the blurry image on the other side of the glass, she hesitated. She’d been right. This wasn’t Leanne. And there wasn’t any point in hiding the hickey. It was the man who’d given it to her.
“Come on, Claire. Open up!”
Damn! This would be her third encounter with him in less than twenty-four hours. Once or twice a month was hard enough.
Tightening the belt on her robe, she told herself she didn’t care that he was about to see her at her worst and opened the door.
Wearing a simple T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans that rested low on his hips, he loomed over her by almost a foot. Generally speaking, she didn’t mind being short. But she always longed for a little more height when dealing with him…?.
“What can I do for you?” She blocked the entrance and kept one hand on the knob. But then she spotted the accordion file beneath his arm and understood why he’d come.
Quickly checking to make sure Leanne wasn’t out—she didn’t want to be grilled about the reason Isaac Morgan had shown up at her house—she flung the door wide and waved him in.
His sardonic smile told her he knew it wasn’t him she was so excited to see. But he was wrong. To her own chagrin, seeing him always excited her.
“Nice place.”
He’d never been inside her house. She’d been living in a small apartment above Stuart’s Stop ’n’ Shop when they were “together.” Once David returned from college and accepted a job in Kalispell, she’d moved there, too, to attend beauty school. After she graduated, David opened his State Farm office and they both came back to Pine view, where they’d lived on David’s parents’ property until Tug finished building her house. Once it was done, they’d married and moved in.
“It’s small but comfortable.” She wasn’t sure if his compliment had been sincere, and she didn’t really care. She’d lost interest in so many things since David had died, not the least of which were cooking and cleaning. “Where did you get that?” She motioned to the file she’d attempted to remove from her mother’s studio.
He turned to face her. “Where do you think?”
“You went to the studio? Before the sheriff could get there?”
“I did. I could tell you wanted this.”
“That can’t be the only reason.” Such generosity wasn’t like him.
His expression hardened. “Why not?”
“It was late, you were injured and this is my problem.”
“Right. Why would I care? I’d never do anything just because it’s important to you. Only David would do that.”
She didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t up to an argument today, and he seemed even more defensive than usual. “Regardless of your reasons, I’m grateful.” She tried to take it from him so he’d leave. Now that she’d canceled all her appointments, she’d have the privacy and time to go through all the reports without being interrupted. But he held them beyond her reach.
“Why didn’t you want the sheriff to get hold of this?” he asked. “It came from his office in the first place, didn’t it? Which means you could always get another copy.”
She didn’t want to focus on his eyes with their golden-brown irises, but neither did she want to focus on the long, tanned fingers that could work such magic on whatever they touched. Clearing her throat, she kept her own eyes on those files. “Not necessarily. That folder contains much more than he’d release to me.”
His dark eyebrows gathered. “And he doesn’t know you have it?”
“I didn’t even know until yesterday. I found it in the attic of the studio. David must’ve gotten it for me…somehow.”
“Ah, David again.” His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Your knight in shining armor.”
She raised her chin. “Yes. Always.” She’d sensed long ago that Isaac had never liked David. David had certainly never liked Isaac, and it wasn’t exclusively due to jealousy. He hated Isaac because of the way Isaac had used her. He’d often told her she should hate him, too, and she’d pretended, but it was hard to blame Isaac when she was a willing participant in the whirlwind of desire that had brought them crashing together. He’d never forced her to visit his cabin. She’d been so eager for his touch she could scarcely wait from one encounter till the next.