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“I told you before, June’s not well.” Mara’s eyes flew open, and even in the shadowy night, she could tell that Shane was becoming angry again. But why? His grip on her fingers was severe, nearly crushing, and her eyes flew down to their hands, suspended and tangled between them in the darkness.

“The second thing I would like to know is why you still insist on wearing your wedding ring, even though your husband is dead? Does it hold some special significance? Or is it just that you don’t want to give up that last little piece of evidence that you were married to Peter Wilcox? Was your love that lingering that you can’t bear the thought of taking off his ring?” Shane’s words were ice cold and they shattered the intimacy of the moment. Mara fought to withdraw her hand, which he reluctantly released.

For a moment she was unsure, and then slowly, with careful and theatrical precision, she slid the wide gold band off of her finger and placed it on the windowsill, where it winked in the moonlight.

“Satisfied?” she asked him, and once again snapped on the lights. Instantly the room transformed into the warm kitchen with rust accents. “Why do you constantly want to battle with me, Shane? Why is it, just when I think we’re making some concrete headway toward working things out, you find another excuse to bring up the past?” Her eyes glittered with the provocation she felt. “The reason that I wear the ring is obvious, at least to most people. It discourages unwanted male attention.” She turned and placed the teapot on the stove to heat some water. She was angry and was having trouble reining in her temper. Why did she still love him so desperately? He was so unpredictable, so moody, so prone to swings in temperament, and still she loved him.

The whistle on the teapot caught her attention, and she carefully poured two cups of scalding water, before steeping in them a rare blend of pekoe. With barely controlled indignation, she handed Shane a mug of the hot liquid.

“You have a lot of admirers, do you, now that dear old Peter is gone?” He observed her over the rim of his cup, and his black eyebrows quirked in dubious interest.

“That’s not the point . . .”

“Then, please—” he turned up a disbelieving palm, encouraging her to continue her explanation “—enlighten me.”

Mara nervously tapped her fingers on the edge of her cup, feeling somehow as if she was being cornered and manipulated. Still, she couldn’t help but take the well-placed morsel of bait, although she eyed Shane suspiciously before accepting his suggestion. She sighed wearily into the tea leaves. “I suppose that it’s no secret that since Peter’s death, when I became the woman in charge of Imagination, there have been a few persistent gentlemen—and I use the term loosely—who seem to think, in their lofty opinions of themselves, that I, a mere woman in charge of a large corporation, need their expert advice—or at the very least, their bodies—to help me deal with my loss of Peter and the awesome responsibility of running the company. It’s apparent that most men can’t understand how I can cope without a husband and father for my child, not to mention managing the business, to boot.” As Mara began talking, warming to her subject, all of her secret thoughts came tumbling out. “I’ve become some sort of target, Shane, and I don’t like it.” Her proud chin inched upward in defiance. “I’m not the kind of woman whoneedsjust any man who happens along.” Her cheeks had become flushed, and she paused for a moment, to stop the angry quivering of her lips. “I don’t understand why some of the men around here don’t think a woman can run Imagination Toys . . .”

“Perhaps they’ve read the financial statements and realize that the company has been losing money ever since you took over the reins.”

“Not fair, Shane,” Mara admonished, suddenly willing to do verbal battle with him. “The company has been losing money for quite some time, long before I took over. It all started sometime before Peter’s illness was diagnosed, and although I haven’t been able yet to turn things around and operate in the black again, I refuse to take full responsibility. I’m not accepting the blame for the recession!”

“You’re hedging! The recession is just a convenient excuse! You can look over the earnings reports of most of the companies in this region—and they’re still making it. Why is it that Imagination can’t face up to the competition, anyway?”

“We’ve had a few bad breaks . . .”

“It comes with the territory, Mara. Every company has ‘bad breaks,’ but some seem to rise above them and find a way to make a profit.”

“I guess I don’t really understand where this conversation is heading,” Mara snapped, and put her teacup down with a clatter against the butcher-block countertop. “Are you criticizing the way I’m handling the company?”

“Not yet.”

“But you intend to?” she asked indignantly.

“Perhaps, if it’s necessary,” he promised.

“Then, why, now, all of the arguments?”

“I only asked you about your wedding ring.”

“And I was only trying to explain to you that the only reason that I wear the ring is to discourage certain businessmen from coming on too strong with me. Is that so hard to understand?” Blue fire danced in Mara’s eyes as she stood before him, silently challenging him to pursue the argument. When he didn’t immediately accept the dare, she prodded him. “And really, admit it, isn’t that what you thought, along with everyone else, that there was no way that I would be able to run the toy company effectively?”

An unsuppressed smile lighted his near-black eyes.

“I thought so!” she stated, shaking her head and pursing her lips until they whitened. Blond curls rubbed angrily against her shoulders. “Well, just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean that I can’t handle the job. Nor does it mean that I needanymale help!”

Shane’s lips thinned, and he set his cup down next to hers on the counter. “I think that we should get something straight between us, once and for all,” he replied with quiet determination. “I didn’t come up here to Asheville with any intention of helping you.”

“But I thought . . .”

“It doesn’t matter what you thought. I came here with the express purpose of buying out the company. You know that. Because you refused to sell, I’ve had to alter my position.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I just want you to know that my personal life, including the fact that I’ve found out that I’m Angie’s father, doesn’t necessarily alter my position with regard to Imagination. If anything, it probably strengthens it!”

“I don’t understand,” she admitted flatly.

“Don’t you? Come on, Mara, you’re a bright woman. Don’t play games with me.”