White Lace and Promises by Debbie Macomber Page B

sensual. Perhaps it was best that Glenn was gone when she woke, she thought. If he had been beside her, she didn’t know what she would have done. She could well have embarrassed them both by reaching for him and asking him to make love to her before he returned to Charleston … alone.
    Taking advantage of the privacy, she dressed and hurriedly made the bed. By the time she had straightened the comforter across the mattress, Glenn reappeared.
    “Good morning,” he said as he paused just inside the bedroom, standing both alert and still as he studied her. “Did you sleep well?”
    “Yes,” she responded hastily, feeling like a specimen about to be analyzed, but a highly prized specimen, one that was cherished and valued. “What about you?” she asked.
    The hesitation was barely noticeable, but Maggie noticed. “Like a rock.”
    “Good. Are you hungry?” Her eyes refused to meet his, afraid of what hers would tell him.
    “Starved.”
    “Breakfast should be ready by the time you’ve finished dressing,” she said as she left the room. Glenn had showered last night, she remembered; she couldn’t recall him being overly fastidious. Shrugging, she moved down the long hall to the kitchen.
    The bacon was sizzling in the skillet when Glenn reappeared, dressed in dark slacks and athick pullover sweater. Maggie was reminded once again that he was devastatingly handsome and experienced, and with a burst of pride, she remembered that he was married to her. At least legally, he was hers. However, another woman owned the most vital part of him—his heart. In time, Maggie trusted, she would claim that as well.
    The morning swam past in a blur; such was their pace. They began by contacting Maggie’s attorney and were given an immediate appointment. Together they sat in his office, although it was Glenn who did the majority of the talking. Maggie was uncomfortable with the rewording of her will, but Glenn was adamant. He desired none of her money, and he wanted it stated legally. When and if they had children, her inheritance would be passed on to them.
    After the attorney’s they stopped off at a prominent San Francisco jeweler. Maggie had never been one for flashy jewels. All too often her hands were in paint solvent or mixing clay, and she didn’t want to have to worry about losing expensive rings or valuable jewels. Knowing herself and her often thoughtless ways, Maggie was apt to misplace a diamond, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing any ring Glenn gave her.
    “You decide,” Glenn insisted, his hand at the back of her neck. “Whatever one you want is fine.”
    Sensing a sure sale, the young jeweler set out a tray of exquisite diamonds, far larger than any Maggie had dreamed Glenn would want to purchase. Her gaze fell on a lovely marquise and her teeth worried her bottom lip. “I … was thinking maybe something with a smaller stone would be fine,” she murmured, realizing that she should have explained her problems about a diamond to Glenn earlier.
    He pinched his mouth closed with displeasure, resenting her concern that he couldn’t afford to buy her a diamond large enough to weight her hand.
    “Try on that one,” he insisted, pointing to the marquise solitaire with the wide polished band that she had admired earlier. The diamond was the largest and most expensive on the tray.
    Maggie paled, not knowing how to explain herself. The salesman beamed, exchanging pleased glances with Glenn.
    “An excellent choice,” the jeweler said, lifting Maggie’s limp hand. The ring fit as if it was made for her slender finger. But the diamond was so heavy it felt bulky and unnatural. In her mind, Maggie could picture the panic of looking for it once it was mislaid … and it would be.
    “We’ll take it.”
    “Glenn.” Maggie placed her hand on his forearm. “Can I talk to you a minute? Please.”
    “I’ll write up the sales order,” the jeweler said, removing the tray of diamonds. “I’ll be with