Her happy, carefree expression morphed before his eyes. The dazzling smile disappeared and her neck straightened. He watched as his presence registered. The fire he loved in her emerald eyes ignited, as she worked to contain her swirling emotions. Watching that spark, seeing it before him, filled every empty space of his existence. The last fifteen months had been pure hell. He wanted that spark back in his life. Tony would move heaven and earth to make Claire understand that she belonged to him.

Reining in his desire to pull her into his arms and elicit another type of spark, Tony replied, “I don’t have a key, but I’d be glad to get one. Just tell me where to sign up.”

Her stance straightened and her tone hardened. “How did you get up here? You can’t be on this floor without a key.”

Trying to keep the conversation light, he requested entrance. “Perhaps you could invite me in and we can discuss it?”

“Tony, why are you here?”

He smirked, “If we’re playing one hundred questions, I admit defeat. May I come in?”

After a prolonged silence, during which her eyes never left his, Claire took a step back and nodded. He tried to contain his relief as he walked into her foyer and glanced around. “My, Claire, you’re living much better than I expected. When I first learned of your release, I pictured you destitute.”

“I’m sure you enjoyed that scenario. I’m sorry to disappoint.”

He snickered. “Disappoint? On the contrary, your ingenuity is to be praised.” Although he hadn’t foreseen an alliance between Claire and Amber McCoy, Amber was obviously helping Claire make a life—without him. His heartbeat quickened. Without him was not acceptable.

Her words brought him back to reality. “Tony, I’ll repeat myself at the risk of being redundant. Why are you here, and how did you access my floor?”

“I gained access by the security guard on the first floor. He tried to call you, but you didn’t answer. I explained that we’re old friends, I’m leaving town, and since I had recently talked with you, I knew you were home and expecting me—”

The ringing of her phone interrupted his explanation. After glancing at the screen, she said, “This is security. I’ll tell them I don’t want you here, unless you quickly tell me why you’re here.” The phone rang again.

He didn’t hesitate. He was inside her new home and didn’t want to leave—not yet. “I want to know more about your prison delivery.”

She didn’t respond, at least not to him; instead, she answered the phone and decided his fate. With each word his body eased—she told the security guard that he could stay. While she spoke, he drank in the woman before him: casual and comfortable, with her dark hair pulled back, wearing soft slacks and a big shirt. There was a wide neckline that exposed a shoulder revealing the strap of a camisole. It was a stark contrast to the woman in the white dress, yet equally as sexy.

When she finally turned back to him, he noticed the determination in her voice. “I have plans today. Please make this quick.”

His cheeks rose and his breath quickened. The aroma of shampoo and jasmine filled his senses. “Yes, I see you’re dressed for business. What do they call that, business casual?” While she debated her response, he lowered his voice and added, “I’m not complaining. I always found the casual Claire as sexy as the one who rocked designer dresses.”

Claire crossed her arms over her chest and exhaled. “Please, I have lunch plans, and I’d like to change. Question what you want and go.”

Lunch plans? With whom? He’d seen pictures of her with Harrison Baldwin. Could that be whom she was planning on seeing? While these questions and many more ran through his head, he managed to ask, “Do you only entertain in the entry, or may we sit?”

“We may sit,” she replied, and began walking toward the living room. As they sat, her next sentence caught him completely off guard. “I know you enjoy coffee. I’d offer you some, but the last time I got you coffee, it didn’t work out so well for me.”

To his amazement, he found her brazenness titillating. “God, Claire you’re something else. I can’t imagine anyone else joking about that.”

“Well, see, you misinterpreted. I wasn’t joking. I’m actually still pissed as hell.”

“Good for you.” He leaned toward her. She didn’t look away. He loved her tenacity! “Your ability to admit your displeasure is refreshing. It encourages me to be honest, too.”

“Honesty? That would be an invigorating change.”

He worked to maintain his expression and keep his tone soft. “You should know that I’m sorry.”

The battle once again raged behind her eyes. Would she voice her thoughts or stay quiet as she had when they were married? He waited. Her volume raised exponentially with each phrase “What? You’re sorry?” It was as if she filled the room with her presence. “Well, Tony, I believe I need a little clarification. Tell me what exactly you’re sorry about. I’ll gladly give you a few options.”

She suddenly stood and paced about the living room, her chest heaving with each exaggerated breath. When she neared the large windows, the sunlight muted her features. Tony much preferred having her close to watch her emotions unravel, and at the same time he yearned to calm her, seize her shoulders, and make her forget what she was about to say. He couldn’t; she deserved to tell him exactly what she thought. He prayed that after she was done, they could move forward.