The Burning Point by Mary Jo Putney Page B

hadn't addressed the exterior.
    Blocking out memories of the walks she and Donovan had taken through the woods--and the times they'd come back smudged with leaves or grass stains--she turned away from the window. "I've always wondered where you got the money to buy out my share of the house. I couldn't have afforded to go to Berkeley if you hadn't done that. Did Sam give you a loan?"
    "Not Sam--Julia. Your father was so furious about the divorce that he wasn't about to do anything that would make it easier for you to stay away. Julia was more practical. She said she didn't want her daughter to have to drop out of school and become a topless dancer or worse."
    Kate smiled involuntarily. That sounded just like her mother. "I assumed that once the dust settled from the divorce, you'd sell this place."
    "I was tempted. But this was my home. I didn't want to have to find another."
    She should have known that. He'd loved this neighborhood as much as she had.
    The thought produced a cascade of memories. It was her friend Rachel Hamilton who had mentioned that a neglected house near her parents' home would be going on the market soon. Kate and Rachel had checked it out together.
    The small rancher wasn't much, but the three-acre setting was spectacular. Part of an estate sale, the property could be had for a bargain price by someone willing to settle quickly and accept the house's rundown condition.
    Without telling Donovan, Kate had asked her parents for the house as a wedding present. They'd agreed, and the contract had already been signed when Kate had brought Donovan to see the place a week before the wedding. She'd been bubbling with excitement, sure he'd be delighted to have a home of his own.
    Instead he'd been enraged. Whirling around, he seized her shoulders with bruising force and shook her furiously as he shouted that he wasn't a damned pet, and the wedding was off.
    She'd gaped at him, stunned. Occasionally he'd shown flashes of temper, but they always passed quickly. Usually he was sweet and romantic and easygoing, her dream man.
    The incident had been over in an instant, horrifying Donovan far more than her. He'd released her, his face white as he stammered an apology.
    She hadn't been hurt, only shocked, and appalled at her own stupidity. Knowing that Donovan was uncomfortable with her family's prosperity and position, it had been idiotic of her to make such an important decision without consulting him.
    Shaking, she went into his arms, saying she'd only wanted to please him and would never, never be so inconsiderate again. They would break the contract and live anywhere Donovan wanted. Talking at the same time, he said vehemently that he loved the house, that it was the most wonderful present anyone had ever given him, and he would be delighted to live here forever if only Kate could forgive his horrible temper.
    Mutual remorse exploded into passion, and they'd made love on the bare oak floor with raging intensity. Afterward he'd been so tender, so gentle, that she'd been positively delighted with their first major disagreement because it had brought them even closer.
    If she knew then what she'd learned later, would she have ended the engagement? Perhaps--but she couldn't be sure, even now. There had been good and bad in their marriage. For better and worse, she was what those three critical years of matrimony had made her.
    Resting her gaze on an ice-encrusted shrub, she asked with careful neutrality, "Having you been seeing someone regularly?"
    After a slight hesitation, he said, "Yes."
    "Would you keep seeing her if I was living here?"
    "Do I look nuts? Of course not. Life will be plenty complicated enough without that," he said. "What about you? Have you been dating someone in San Francisco?"
    "Yes." She thought of her easy relationship with Alec. "Geography would put a swift halt to that."
    As the silence stretched, he said, "It sounds as if you're considering staying."
    She bit her lip. Apparently she was