Page 6 of Conail

He started, eyes sharp. "Why?"

"I am opening a practice here. My aunt and my dad need me."

"I see. What happened to the boyfriend? Wasn't it some fancy lawyer in your firm? What does he have to say about that?"

It still burned him to know that she had moved on so quickly, while he was still here moldering and pining for her.

"We broke up. Colin--"

"I really have to go. Have things to do. Take care." He made a speedy departure, not bothering to go into the post office. He felt as if he was suffocating. The sight of her, those sexy lips, the large dark eyes that seemed to dominate her small face. That coffee and cream complexion, the tumble of dark brown natural curls that used to fascinate him -- all of it still reminded him that she was still lodged firmly inside his heart. That for all that he told himself, he had never gotten over her. Damn her to hell! he thought viciously as he crossed the road of Main Street to get back to the café. And if she thought even for one second that he was going to go crawling back to her, she had another thing coming. Damn her to hell!

Chapter 3

"It's not right." Clive stared at his wife as if she had grown two horns and a tail. "It's just not right."

"I heard you the first time." Wringing the water out of the dish rag, she polished the already spotless counter furiously, movements jerky. "Are you going to drink the coffee or just let it go cold?"

He picked it up and put it back down without tasting it. "We cannot ask our daughter to do something like that. It's not right."

"Our daughter is a grown woman, and it will be entirely up to her." Ignoring the accusing stare, she turned back to the oven to take out the cinnamon bread. Plopping it down on the cooling rack, she rounded on him furiously. "If you have a better solution, let's hear it."

He hated the argument, hated more the fact that all of this was because of his illness. He was not playing his part, and everything was left to his wife and son. And now this.

"We could sell--" He reared back as she rounded on him with fury in her eyes.

"I cannot believe I'm hearing this from you. We already sold pieces of the land, and we cannot afford to even consider doing so again." She fisted her hands on her hips, eyes flashing. "It's the only way."

"She's our daughter! And the child, the baby would not be hers."

"We don't know what will happen," she said cagily, turning to the stove where she had vegetable stew simmering.

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her back. They had been married for almost forty years, and he knew her as much as she knew herself.

"Maeve?"

"What?" She continued to stir.

"What are you up to?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Shoving away from the table, he made his way over to the stove, until he was facing her.

"You're going to get burned." She avoided his eyes and continued to stir.

He simply reached out and plucked the spoon from her, placing it in the holder. Taking her arm, he led her to the table and practically shoved her into a chair.

"Clive Joshua Smith!" She folded her arms over her chest, eyes flashing. "I don't appreciate being handled."

His eyes flashed and had her rearing back. He was always the quiet one in the relationship. Any hell raising was left up to her and she was very good at it. Her husband was not easily riled.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing." She tried for a pout, something that always had him giving over, but this time it did not work. Sighing, she unfolded her arms and clasped them on the table. "You know how Yasmine has been hurt by that man."

"What does that have to do with anything?" His eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at her. "You and Eleanor are playing matchmaker." His eyes popped wide open when he saw the guilt on her lovely face. "Maeve Joan Smith! What the hell are you thinking?"

"I will not have you swearing--"

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