Whispered Promises by Brenda Jackson Page B

he’d ever known.
    But then, no other woman had given him such pain, something he could never forget. Clayton had tried to convince him that time would ease the pain and soften the anger. But there was something time could not do, and that was to turn itself back. Nor could time restore his bruised male ego her rejection had caused.
    In the morning they were to sit down with Clayton and discuss the state of their marital status. Married or divorced, their daughter would always be their connecting link, and they would never really be free of each other.
    Dex’s mouth tightened. Who was he kidding? Had he ever really been free of Caitlin? Over the past four years he’d thrown himself into his work until exhaustion racked his body. And no matter how much he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to completely exorcise her from his mind. He admitted he hadn’t lived a celibate life since they’d been apart, but there hadn’t been anyone he’d gotten serious about. All his affairs—if you wanted to call them that—had been casual. Any woman he’d become involved with had known the relationship was a dead end. And deep down a part of him blamed Caitlin for it.
    Dex took a deep breath. There was no use trying to sleep. It was out of the question tonight. Getting out of bed, he slipped into a pair of jeans and went downstairs to catch a late-night movie on television.

    Caitlin sighed, looking into her cup of warm milk. Tonight she couldn’t sleep. A knot formed in her throat as she glanced around the huge, spacious kitchen. Even when her mother had been alive, the kitchen had been her father’s domain. He enjoyed doing all of the cooking, and they’d enjoyed eating all of the dishes he had prepared.
    â€œIs something wrong, Caitlin?”
    Caitlin jumped, almost spilling the milk on herself. Her heart started beating wildly and a funny feeling settled in the bottom of her stomach when she turned to face Dex. He was watching her curiously through dark eyes.
    â€œNo, nothing’s wrong. I just had a hard time sleeping.”
    Dex stood paused at the doorway, his tall frame almost filling it. “What’re you drinking?”
    Caitlin’s fingers tightened on her cup. “Warm milk. Would you like some?”
    â€œNo,” he answered stiffly. “I prefer something stronger.”
    Caitlin nodded. “Couldn’t you sleep, either?”
    Dex’s gaze rested on her. His face expressionless. “No.”
    Caitlin began to feel ill at ease. They were acting like polite strangers. She was suddenly struck with the realization that they were two strangers.
    She turned her head to take a better look at him. He was wearing a pair of jeans that rode low on his hips, and his dark chest was bare. As she continued to stare at him, her mind replayed memories. Memories of his touch, his taste and how he had taught her the physical meaning of love. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blot out the memories from her mind.
    â€œCaitlin, are you sure you’re all right?”
    She forced herself to look back at him. She saw concern on his face. “I’m fine. I think I’ll go back to bed now.” She stood to leave.
    â€œNo, don’t go yet.”
    Caitlin didn’t miss the husky timbre of his voice or the hot glow of desire shining in his eyes. She watched him slowly advance toward her and gasped at the tingling sensation spreading through her body. The next thing she knew he was standing directly in front of her.
    Dex gently cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Caitlin retreated but he took a step forward recovering the distance. She caught her breath when his thumb parted her lips. His eyes held hers.
    â€œI’ll never forget the day I opened that packet and saw those divorce papers and the box with your wedding ring. It tore me in two,” he whispered hoarsely.
    His gaze moved from hers and directed their full