He couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re serious. You have no proof of anything you just said? You burned it.” A smile momentarily flittered across his lips. “I don’t know who sent it to you. I did confirm, today, that you received a box in October of last year. The prison said the return address was Emily’s.”

Claire nodded. “Yes, I assumed it was books or something.”

“Burned it. Why?”

She shook her head. “I’ve asked myself that same question a thousand times. I believe it was a cleansing of sorts, my way of removing you from my life.”

Tony smirked, “How’s that working for you?”

Claire’s grin filled his heart. It was more real than any last night, and he didn’t want it to stop. “Not as well as I’d hoped.” Looking about, she added, “I really do need to get ready for my lunch date. If we’re done, I’d like you to leave.”

Date? He didn’t want to leave—ever. “I would like to ask you one more thing.”

Claire nodded.

“Who was the expected recipient of that dazzling smile?”

Her head tilted and brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“When you first opened the door, your smile was earth-shaking. Who were you expecting?”

“A good friend.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, but Claire didn’t respond. A good friend. Could it be Harrison Baldwin? He would or could have a key; after all, he’s Amber’s brother. Or did someone else have a key?

Claire stood. “If you’ll follow me; I’ll show you to the door.”

Tony followed. “I will not give up my quest.” He wanted to be honest, too. He wanted her back in every way possible, by his side, united in everything.

When they reached the door, Claire said, “Please give Catherine my love. If you have truly changed, as you claim, you’ll respect my decision. If that’s the case, you’re wasting your time.”

“I have invested much more. One last thing,” he paused as his words slowed. “Do not share your unsupported theories with anyone.” He’d kept this part of his life hidden for years. The repercussions of it becoming public were too far reaching.

Claire’s neck straightened. “I’m sorry. It’s too late for that.”

Though her words set off alarms, her proximity incited desires, pushing the warnings temporarily away. Wanting one last morsel of contact, Tony reached for her hand, lowered his lips to soft skin, and brushed her palm with the tips of his fingers. Despite her demeanor, her acceptance and arousal were evident. If he could just take her back to Iowa—there were so many things he wanted to do.

With her hand still in his, he warned, “Be careful. You don’t want to disappoint me.”

Her posture grew and her voice feigned strength. “That—is no longer my concern. Good-bye, Tony.”

Nodding, Tony turned and strode through the door toward the elevator. Behind him, he heard Claire’s door shut. The sound reverberated through the unoccupied hallway, returning the emptiness of the last fifteen months to his soul. Part of him wanted to turn around and tell her that, no matter what, she could never disappoint him.

Then he remembered her question, why? Why did he choose her? He lowered his head and debated the answer. It was because of the vendetta; she should have figured that out from the box. Tony knew in his heart that it was so much more. She was part of him. Maybe that was the real purpose of the vendetta: it brought them together in the most unlikely of circumstances. Fate. No matter of the why, the truth was that he needed her. He was incomplete without her, and he didn’t want to live another moment without knowing she would once again be part of his life.

Suddenly, he turned on his heels and returned to her door. He would tell her!

Before he could knock, the crash of something breaking came through her door. Tony inclined his head and listened. With each passing minute of silence, his anxiety grew. What if she were hurt? He knew Amber was out of town. Claire might be injured and in need of help.

Tony reached for the handle, expecting it to be locked; however, it turned under his grasp. Hesitantly, he opened the door and slowly entered the foyer. Straining his ears, he heard only silence.

Walking in the opposite direction from the living room, he neared a partially open door. Pushing it wider, he found a bedroom. Immediately, he knew it was Claire’s. It wasn’t one thing in particular, although he did see a picture of Emily and John; the space was filled with her presence—her scent and her aura. Searching the room for his ex-wife, he allowed his fingers to touch the sheets of her unmade bed. Instantaneously, images of her sleeping upon this bed filled his thoughts—or better yet, not sleeping.

His loafers echoed on the wood floor of the silent condominium as he walked back toward the living room. When he turned the corner, he saw Claire was lying on the sofa, and on the table, was the small cell phone she’d put into her camisole. He picked it up. The screen was cracked. When he tried to access the numbers, nothing happened. Perhaps that was the sound he’d heard.

His heartbeat quickened. Tony knew that he should show himself out. Claire was all right, just sleeping. He should leave and not look back.

He couldn’t. Though she wasn’t speaking or moving, her presence pulled him closer. Her slightly parted lips looked perfect for kissing. Before he could stop himself, Tony knelt beside his ex-wife and touched his lips to hers. The decadent sweetness aroused him; he yearned to taste more than her lips. With her eyes still closed, Claire’s body moved toward him. He expected her to tell him to leave; instead, a soft moan echoed throughout the condominium. The sound was magical, like a switch turning on the feelings and emotions he’d tried to hide.