Secret Nights at Nine Oaks by Amy J. Fetzer Page B

up her clothes and dressed.
    â€œYou’re angry with me.”
    â€œNo, I’m hurt.”
    â€œDidn’t you like it? I did.”
    She cast a glance over her shoulder. “Didn’t I look like I enjoyed that? I am, however, feeling like a plaything right now.”
    She stood and started to leave. Cain shot off the sofa and grabbed her hand, ignoring the intense pain and hardness in his body and turning her toward him.
    â€œYou would never be a plaything to me, Phoebe. You have to know that. Tell me you know.”
    Phoebe sighed, not wanting to end this with a fight, not wanting to really dig deep into his mind when she didn’t want anyone digging into hers. Then she noticed the torn look in his dark eyes, in his expression. Something was eating him. It made him look raw and desolate as he waited for her answer.
    â€œMaybe without meaning to.”
    â€œThere are no maybes about it.”
    â€œBut then where will this go? Moments for a couple of weeks? Is that it?”
    His gaze thinned and she knew she’d just touched a nerve.
    â€œI understand now. You won’t allow yourself to have more, with me, or anyone and I’m not just talking sex.”
    His expression went shuttered.
    That he did it so often she could recognize it angered her. “Don’t do that! Don’t leave me out in the cold. Can’t we just take this new stage one day at a time?”
    Cain went still, a battle waging inside him—push the door a little wider open or pull it closed. Yet heknew one thing—with Phoebe, he had little choice. She was an energy he couldn’t ignore.
    He forced a smile, pulling her close, and smoothing her wild hair out of her eyes.
    â€œOne day at a time then.” He didn’t say it would go no further than her stay here at Nine Oaks until the trial. That, he knew, was enough heartache for the both of them.
    Oblivious to his thoughts, Phoebe smiled widely and pecked a kiss to his mouth. “I won’t even expect a miracle, I swear.”
    That, Cain thought, was what he needed—and did not deserve.
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    Something had changed between them. Neither one spoke of it, but Phoebe could feel it. His guard was down a little further. A line blurred when he cooked for her. It faded when he smiled and laughed and teased like the man she remembered.
    â€œYou didn’t want to take over for your father?”
    â€œNot really. It was always expected of me, but I would’ve liked to have made another choice.”
    â€œSuch as?
    He shrugged, sitting in the lounge chair on the balcony, watching the mist of the evening roll over the river. Cain turned his gaze from it, the scenery too much like the night Lily died.
    â€œI’m not sure.”
    â€œWell, if you don’t have a choice waiting, and I’m not saying you have to, then keep running the family companies. You’re great at what you do, Cain.”
    â€œAnd you know this how?”
    â€œI bought stock in your company.”
    He frowned. “I’ll have to check the stockholders’ list.”
    â€œI’m small potatoes.” She sipped a mimosa and stretched on the lounge. The sounds of the night approached—music for them—and Phoebe looked over at him and found him staring.
    He was trying not to be obvious but she could tell. He seemed to be comparing her to something when he looked at her. Then she remembered what he’d said that night in the kitchen. Not to think he was so noble that he was mourning his dead wife, that she’d be disappointed.
    â€œDid you love Lily?”
    His gaze snapped to hers. He hesitated before answering. “No. Barely.”
    She sat up a little straighter. “Then why did you marry her?”
    â€œShe was pregnant with my child.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œShe miscarried a couple of weeks after we married.”
    â€œI’m so sorry. Did that happen when she died?”
    â€œNo. Do we have to discuss