White Lace and Promises by Debbie Macomber

the fact she had it. Her great-aunt Margaret’s money had been a curse as far as he was concerned. And judging by the insecure, frightened woman Maggie had become, she might even have realized that herself.
    “I … I know you wouldn’t cheat me.” The odd huskiness of her voice was made more pronounced by a slight quiver. Of all the men she had known in her life, she trusted Glenn implicitly. He was a man of honor. He might have married her when he was in love with another woman, but he would never deliberately do anything to swindle her.
    Their gazes melted into each other’s. Maggie trusted him, Glenn realized. The heavy weight that had pressed against him from the moment she had turned her hurt, angry eyes on him that morning lessened.
Surely
there’d been a better way to handle that business with her paintings, he thought. She had talent, incredible talent, and it was a shame that she was wasting it by hiding it away.
    “After the lawyer, we’ll go to a jeweler,” he added.
    “A jeweler?”
    “I’d like you to wear a wedding ring, Maggie.”
    The pulse in her neck throbbed as she beat down a rush of pure pleasure. “Okay, and you, too.”
    “Of course,” he agreed easily. His gaze did a sweeping inspection of the room, as if he’d noticed it for the first time. It reminded him of Maggie. Her presence was stamped in every piece of furniture, every corner. Suddenly, a tiredness stole into his bones. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. “Let’s get ready for bed.”
    Maggie nodded, and some of her earlier apprehension faded. She wasn’t completely comfortable sleeping with him after what had happened. Not when there was a chance he would take her in his arms, hold her close, kiss her, even make love to her, with another woman’s nameon his lips. “You go ahead—I’ve got a few odds and ends to take care of first.”
    Sitting at the oak desk in her office, Maggie lifted her long hair from her face and closed her eyes as weariness flooded her bones. She was tired—Glenn was tired. She was confused—Glenn was confused. They both wanted this marriage—they were both responsible for making it work. All right, there wasn’t any reason to overreact. They’d share a bed, and if he said the other woman’s name in his sleep again, Maggie refused to be held responsible for her actions.
    By the time Glenn returned from his shower, Maggie had gone back to the bedroom and changed into a sexless flannel pajama set that would have discouraged the most amorous male. She had slipped beneath the covers, and was sitting up reading, her back supported by thick feather pillows. Behind her book, she followed Glenn’s movements when he reentered the bedroom.
    He paused and allowed a tiny smile of satisfaction to touch his lips. He had half expected Maggie to linger in her office until he was asleep and was greatly pleased that she hadn’t. Although she looked like a virgin intent on maintaining her chastity in that flannel outfit, he knew that this night wasn’t the time to press for his husbandly rights. Things had gone badly. Tomorrow would be better, he promised himself.
    Lifting back the thick quilt, Glenn slid his large frame into the king-size bed and turned off the light that rested on the mahogany nightstand on his side of the bed.
    “Good night.” His voice was husky and low, with only a trace of amusement. He thought she would probably sit up reading until she fell asleep with the light on.
    “Good night,” she answered softly, pretending to read. A few minutes later, Maggie battled to keep her lashes from drooping. Valiantly, she struggled as her mind conjured up ways of resisting Glenn. The problem was that she didn’t want to resist him. He would probably wait until she was relaxed and close to falling asleep, she theorized. When she was at her weakest point, he would reach for her and kiss her. Glenn was a wonderful kisser, and she went warm at the memory of what had happened their first