Damn. Why did everybody assume that because he had that "doctor" label in front of his name that he had money, but just didn't want to part with it?

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Gretchen left him last week. She said she'd expected more from him-more attention, more gifts, more, more, more. What was he supposed to do? He was in a stranglehold of debt from setting up his solo practice. He was behind on his business insurance payments, his mortgage on the building, his student loans, even the goddamn utility bills! The sad truth was that Gretchen had been keeping them afloat for many months. It must have just dawned on her a week ago. The way it had once dawned on Emma.

It was probably better for Gretchen that she left when she did. It wouldn't have been much longer before those bastards would've tried to use her as a bargaining chip.

It made him nauseous to think of the night the ugly one lay in wait for him outside the office. That piece of scum popped him in the eye, then thrust some kind of knife under his chin and told him to pay up or die.

He'd heard it all before. But the guy had been so convincing that night that Aaron pissed himself.

He reached the end of the long driveway and could see into the open barn door to Emma. She was moving in a golden spill of sunlight, stacking hay bales up against the aisle, dust and hay swirling around her, and she looked like some kind of heavenly apparition.

Aaron grinned-there were a few pieces of hay in her hair. She looked flushed and pretty the way she always did, an uncomplicated, undemanding kind of pretty. Not like Gretchen-good God, that woman was one wild female. Hot and sleek and always dressed to bring a man to his knees.

He kind of missed her. Emma, not Gretchen. Watching her stand there frowning at him made him laugh. In fact, he missed Emma so much that sometimes he would lie in bed at night and try to conjure up that certain way she smelled-like a breeze through a field of wildflowers. He'd never been able to get it quite right in his imagination.

He felt bad for what had happened, he really did.

But it was good to be free.

Now if he could just catch a break-just one-he was sure he could turn this whole fucking mess around.

Emma tossed the last hay bale on the pile as she heard the rumble of a car engine and the crackle of gravel beneath tires. She'd recognize the sound of that car anytime, anywhere. How many nights had she lain awake waiting to hear it?

Aaron was here. And she bet she knew why.

Emma stepped from the cool shade of the barn into the early evening sun, placing a gloved hand over her brow to shield her eyes.

"How's it going, Em?"

He leaned against his precious Datsun 280 Z, his ankles crossed casually, his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets, that lazy smile spreading across his handsome face. Emma's heart did a leap off the high dive at the sight of him, then she felt it sink to the bottom with a thud.

Like always.

"What's the problem, Aaron?"

"Can't I just come see you every once in a while?" Aaron pushed off from the antique black sports car and took a few steps toward her, his dark eyes shimmering, his head cocked to the side seductively.

Yes, Aaron was handsome. And no, she wasn't going to succumb to his charm today, or any other day.

"The answer to whatever you're going to ask me is no way in hell." She turned and went back inside the barn, hoping he wouldn't follow her.

Emma needed a moment to deal with the cruel mix of desire, anger, and gut-wrenching sadness that came with seeing Aaron. She took note that there was more anger than anything else this time, and hoped it was a sign of progress.

She removed Vesta's nylon halter and lead from a peg, then pushed back the door to the last stall on the left.

"Come on, girl, let's get some evening air. Bud needs some company." Emma tried to touch the horse but Vesta snorted and tossed her head with uneasiness, keeping a wary eye on Aaron's progress down the center aisle of the barn.

"He's not going to hurt you, baby," Emma whispered, watching Aaron lean back against the rough wooden wall and grin at her. Emma wondered who she was trying to reassure-the horse or herself.

His black eyes locked on hers. He seemed to be measuring the situation, planning his attack.

"You're looking good, Em. Have you lost weight?"

Emma's entire body jerked with the loaded words and she turned away. Aaron knew just how to get to her-he always had. She tried to ignore how much the remark hurt, but her heart was beating hard and fast and it was obvious he'd hit his mark.

"Not that you really needed to. I swear you get more beautiful with each year."

She said nothing, and clipped the lead to the halter.

"It looks like Vesta is really coming along." He flashed her a white-toothed, movie-star smile. "You never give up, do you, Em? The eternal optimist."

Emma hissed with disgust. "Oh, that's me, all right." She brought the skittish horse out into the aisle, nearly trampling Aaron's toes in the process.

"Is she doing any better with her phobias? What have you got her on? Cyproheptadine? Have you taken her off grain?"

Emma ignored the shoptalk and led the Thoroughbred out the barn door and toward the east pasture gate. Aaron was by her side in an instant.

"Looks like you've worked miracles with her, actually. Most abused track horses don't bounce back this good." He shrugged. "But then, you know that."

Emma looked out on the gently rolling land to avoid searching Aaron's expression for signs of sincerity. She didn't care whether he was sincere, she reminded herself. It was obvious what he was really after.

"I don't have any money to give you." Emma tried to sound matter-of-fact, not letting on how much he could still hurt her. "And that box of your stuff is still at the office. If you don't come get it in the next couple of days, I'm throwing it out."

"I'll come get it."

"That's what you've been saying for a year."

She unclasped the chain on the green metal gate and led the horse to the field. Vesta began to fidget at the prospect of freedom, and she pawed at the ground and excitedly tossed her head, making Emma dance around in her effort to unsnap the lead. The instant she was free, the horse bolted, her dark, shiny form racing down the fence line, her head lowered, her mane and tail flying.

"That is one fine animal," Aaron said with a hushed voice. "She really lets you ride her? God, I'd like to see that."

Aaron nodded toward the Quarter Horse in the adjoining field. "And how's the Bud Man doing?"

Emma yanked the chain closed, then looped the lead around her wrist as she headed back to the barn, ignoring him

"I only need about eight hundred," he said, falling in step with her. "And I can pay you back next week, I swear to God."

They'd reached the barn door and Emma walked ahead of him into the dimness, pretending she hadn't heard him. But she had, and her blood was hammering against her skin and she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to kill him!

In all their time together-through the other women and the debt-she'd never been more disgusted with Aaron than she was at that very instant. Maybe signing the divorce papers earlier that week had given her permission to feel everything she'd ever wanted to feel, in a way she never dared when she carried the title of "wife."

There was nothing to salvage anymore. No reason to pretend it could still be all right.

Aaron's hand went to her shoulder.

"Don't you dare touch me!" She spun around.

Aaron took a step back. "Hey, wait a-"

"I wouldn't give you a dime if I were the richest woman on earth! God, Aaron, thanks to you, I'm barely keeping the clinic doors open! I can't believe you've got the gonads to come out here and ask me to bail you out again!"