Footfalls sounded behind her. She spun around to find Paul staring at her. He had discarded his jacket and tie. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. He leaned against the doorframe, looking like he'd stepped off a GQ photo-shoot. His steel-gray eyes she'd once found warm and inviting now seemed cold, calculating.

“Your bedroom is down the hall,” she said firmly, turning and fluffing her pillow.

His voice floated over her shoulder, low and intimate. “I forgot how beautiful you are with your hair brushed and flowing in waves down your back. I've got to tell you, though, that raggedy, oversized T-shirt you're wearing doesn't do anything for you.” He continued on a whisper, “I remember a red silk teddy I gave you and how hot you looked in it."

Turning, she plopped on the bed and watched him walk to the middle of the room. “What do you want, Paul?"

His hands sliced the air. “I want things back like they were. I want my family back. I want you."

Her hands fisted and she shook her head in disbelief. He hadn't offered an apology for the pain he'd caused her. Always, whatever Paul wanted-Paul got. Not this time! She bit down hard on her lip.

“Back like they were? I haven't changed my views on infidelity. I won't share my husband with other women."

“You wouldn't have to.” Sitting beside her on the bed, his gray eyes suddenly looked sad. “I've changed."

Like the air rushing from a pinpricked balloon, her anger subsided, replaced with resigned weariness. She hoped he had changed. For Matt's sake and her own, she needed to make peace with the past. “I hope that's true. I'm glad you can spend time with our son. Don't treat him like something you pay attention to when it's convenient for you."

He nodded. “I won't.” Pausing, he touched her hand. “Do you remember how good the sex was between us? How often you came apart in my arms and screamed my name over and over again?"

Her face heated with embarrassment and anger at how quickly he'd turned the conversation from their son to his solution to everything-sex. She also noticed Paul didn't call it ‘lovemaking', or remember that she'd failed to elicit the same excitement in him. Another reason he said he ran around. “I haven't forgotten a thing. You're the one who did that."

“I know I hurt you very badly. Matt isn't the only one I'd like to make things up to,” he whispered. “I'd like to prove I've changed, court you again, and ask you to remarry me. I've missed you, Angel."

Without warning, he pulled her into his arms and tried to kiss her. The weight of his body pressed her back into the comforter, squeezing the air from her lungs. Wisps of cottony down rose beside her face. She moved her head from side to side evading the touch of his mouth on hers. His lips rained sloppy kisses onto her cheeks. Her heart beat faster when she heard his heavy breathing. Panic set in. She pushed on his chest. “No, dammit!"

At last he got the message. He stopped and moved away from her. Resting on his elbows, he studied her. She gulped air.

“I'm sorry. When Grace said you wanted me here for Christmas, and you had been waiting for me, I jumped to the wrong conclusions."

Her body stiffened. “You certainly did. I should have insisted that you leave when you first stepped into my bedroom. Tomorrow morning, find somewhere else to stay that's near the house so you can spend time with Matt while you're here."

“Hey, wait a second.” He sighed and rose from the bed. “I'm sorry. I read something in your reactions because I wanted-hoped it was there. I'm trying to reach you, but I realize now that I'm pushing you away by moving too fast.” He closed his eyes.

“You're not listening to me, Paul. Don't try anything like that again. And don't ever come into my bedroom uninvited."

“What a pity. It could be so good between us again if you'd only let me love you."

“You don't know the meaning of the word."

“Yes I do. It's the way I feel about you now.” Walking toward the door, he glanced over his shoulder.

“You had no right to try what you did,” she said.

“I know. I wanted everything like it was before. I'm a fool for thinking you hadn't changed."

“Yes, you are. We're divorced. For Matt's sake, let's try and get through Christmas."

He nodded. “I'm really sorry. Whatever boundaries you set, I'll honor. Goodnight, Katherine."

Angry and disconcerted, she paced the length of the room, talking out loud to herself. “Am I supposed to believe him because he says he's changed? Did he really think I'd swoon when he kissed me?” She spun around and walked back across the room. He obviously thought her still that naïve girl he'd married-the virginal bride he had to teach how to make love. That girl died the day he destroyed her illusions about herself and their marriage.

Yes, he'd killed her innocence, but he was Matt's father. And maybe he had changed. He certainly would not have admitted fault or accepted any responsibility for doing something wrong in the past, but a moment ago he seemed conciliatory-even reasonable. That was not the Paul she knew.

Pausing at the vanity, she lifted her hand and touched her face, her mind whirling. She knew that encouraging him to have a relationship with his son didn't mean she needed to have one with Paul, too.

She bit her lower lip hard. She could barely stand to be around the man but the only kisses she wanted were from Jared. It was his face, his touch, his voice that she had heard in those twilight moments between sleep and dreams in the past few nights.

For Matt's sake, she hoped Paul had changed. But for her sake, she wished he had never come back.

Chapter Six

A sudden repeated pinging interrupted Katherine's thoughts. What the hell was causing that noise? Rushing to the window, she pushed the curtains aside and jumped when a barrage of pebbles bombarded the glass. She unlocked the window and pushed it open.

As she stared into the darkness, a figure strode forward. Blond hair, sprinkled with auburn gleamed in the moonlight. Speak of the devil, she smiled without thinking. “Jared, what are you doing down there?"

“Making an absolute fool of myself.” He dropped a handful of pebbles back into the flowerbed. “I need to talk to you.” Wiping his hands on his coat, he moved to the lamppost and pointed to the oak. “I'll climb up."

Her jaw dropped. “I hope you realize how absurd it is for a grown man to climb a fifteen foot tree to talk to a woman."

He chuckled. “Yeah. Well, I told you I was about to make a fool of myself."

Make a fool of himself? Over her? An unexpected smile tugged at the corners of her lips. First he's John Wayne, taking over putting the lights on the house, now he's Romeo. “Are you crazy?"

He cocked his head to one side. “That's the second time you've asked me that."

“I'm worried you'll fall."

The lamplight illuminated a wry smile. “Careful, someone might think you actually care what happens to this neck of mine."

“Who me?” Maybe she should let him try to climb up the side of the house, and fall and break his neck. It would serve him right. Whoa, he had shown exceptional prowess in climbing that roof yesterday, and if he made it up, neck intact, he'd be standing in the middle of her bedroom… sitting on her bed, while they talked. She swallowed hard, tugging at the hem of her nightshirt. “Hold on, I'll come down."

He held both hands up. “Oh, no, you don't. And that's not debatable, Katherine. I can't possibly catch you when you fall."

She laughed. “I have no intention of climbing out the window. Meet me at the back door. We can talk in the kitchen."

Realizing she was actually running to meet him like some adolescent schoolgirl, she slowed her pace. Determined not to act like other women, who fell all over him, she clamped down on her feelings, turned the teakettle on, unlocked the back door and waited for him.

A furrowed brow etched his forehead when he entered the kitchen. “I left my hammer in your garage."

She blinked in amazement. “What? You came here in the middle of the night for a hammer?"

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he stared down at the floor. “It's a very important hammer."

She folded her arms and lifted an eyebrow. “Okay, Counselor, I'll bite. Why is it so important?"

His gaze rose to the table, as if mesmerized by the elephant shaped place mats. “It belonged to… Aunt Harriet."

“I see.” She leaned her backside against the sink; arms still crossed and fought an inner smile. The discomfort on his face when he looked up at her was so comical she couldn't resist baiting him a little while longer. After all the discomfort he had caused her on the roof, not to mention the dance floor, he seemed due a little himself. “Hammering something, is that all you're thinking about? Why couldn't it wait until morning?"

He stared at her blank-faced, but for the rosy blush creeping up, signaling the direction of his thoughts.

She moved closer, punctuating each question with her index finger in his muscular chest. “Your aunt never owned a hammer in her life, did she? Admit it. You simply felt worried about Matt and me. Isn't that the truth?” She shrugged. “Although for the life of me, I don't know why."

Sheepishly, he pulled the hammer from his pocket, laid it on the table and removed his coat. “I thought you wouldn't let me in to check on you."

His gaze roamed her body and his eyes darkened, obviously pleased with her baggy T-shirt that had seen better days. The sensual look he gave her made the toes on her bare feet curl with a pleasure she hadn't felt in ages.

He finally lifted his head and studied her face. “I can't help staring. It's the first time I've seen your shapely legs and sexy red toenails.” He whistled softly, his gaze traveling back down her body. “You shouldn't hide them-at least not around me."