“Who’s the specialist again?” he asked.

“Dr. Jamie Marsh. I’ll have my secretary send you the info and the scotch you didn’t get at Éternité.”

* * *

Shane hadn’t called or contacted her in any way in the past week. Ginger didn’t know what to think of that. He’d seemed so sincere about them being together at the farm, so she’d been certain he’d pressure her to move in with him immediately. Even though a small part of her was glad he wasn’t calling every day, another part of her ached. She poured herself the last of the ridiculously expensive scotch Shane had bought her and downed it. Once upon a time she’d hated the stuff, but somewhere along the line she’d grown to like it…because he liked it.

Did he feel as empty as she did? Could he?

The investigator also hadn’t reported any progress. She gnawed on her nails. It’d only been a week. Even if he was one of the best—and Debbie’s dad wouldn’t hire somebody less than the best—it would take him some time. He also had other clients, most of them his regulars probably.

At least her freelance business was still doing well despite all the cancellations. Several of the clients who’d canceled at the last minute sent her referral business, their way of apologizing for what had happened. Ginger also spent her free time getting caught up on paperwork.

When she was alone at night, she stared at the photos while drinking scotch. She’d begun studying the people around her every time she went outside, wondering if one of them hated her enough to pull something like this.

Damn it. She rubbed the spot between her eyebrows. She didn’t want to be paranoid or suspicious of people like that. Good people far outweighed the bad. Why let this one jerk ruin it for her?

There was a knock on her door, and she glanced at the wall clock, frowning. It was already after ten.

She shoved the pictures back into the envelope and opened the door. Shane stood there with a bouquet of Thai orchids. He looked good, his shirt and pants straining in all the right places to remind her of his awesome, chiseled body underneath. He also had gotten a neat haircut, although the five o’clock shadow along his jaw lent a certain roguish charm.

“Hi,” she said almost stupidly, suddenly aware of how badly she was dressed. She’d thrown on a ratty old tee-shirt and cotton boxers earlier after her shower.

“Hi yourself.”

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged and gave her a cockeyed smile. “I was in the neighborhood.”

The alcohol felt all too warm in her belly, and she swallowed. She tightened her hand around the doorknob, trying to rein herself in before she launched himself at him. There is no future between us without trust. “How did you get my address?”

“Dane had it.”

“Did you tell him I owed you money or something?” she joked. She couldn’t imagine why else Dane would’ve been helpful.

He shook his head. “I told him I needed to see you. Can I come in?”

She stood there, her mouth suddenly dry. Why was he here all of a sudden? “It’s not a good ide—”

A small frown creased his forehead, then he stepped around her and was inside before she could stop him.

Her already small apartment seemed to shrink a bit. Shane took in the messy living room. Nobody had vacuumed the place while she’d been out of the country, a layer of dust was on everything…and she hadn’t fully unpacked yet either. Her IKEA couch had a pile of clothes on the back, and her small dining table held a mountain of loosely arranged papers. She cringed when she noticed dirty plates in the sink. Oh well, she thought. Shane might as well learn—again—that she wasn’t the best housekeeper.

“If you need help packing, I can hire movers,” he offered.

“What?” she said.

He gestured around. “You’re packing, right? I can get you some movers. Take care of the lease.”

Her lips formed a silent O, but she was nodding inside. He undoubtedly thought that she was getting ready to send her stuff over to his place. “I’m not moving. I’ve just been busy, which is why I haven’t finished unpacking.”

“Oh.” Shane glanced at the couch.

She sighed. Since he wasn’t going to leave until he’d said his piece, she might as well humor him…for now. The key was to win the war, not the minor skirmishes along the way “It’s clean if you want to sit down. Just push my stuff to the side.” She slipped into the kitchen and put the plates in the dishwasher, which was already full. She dumped some detergent in and started a cycle.

He moved her notebooks over to the table and sat down. “So. You still have things to do?”

She blinked.

“You left me a note saying you have stuff to do. I was wondering how much longer you’re going to be ‘doing things’.”

She leaned against the dining table. It hurt to look at him, but at the same time she couldn’t look away without feeling like her heart would split in half. How could she love a man who didn’t trust her?

Shane stood in front of her locker, his stance stiff. Girding her loins, she glared at him, then cleared her throat. When he didn’t move away, she said, “What do you want?”

He shoved a box at her. “Here.”

“What’s that?” She looked down and gasped. It was the latest Nikon, with every cool feature she could dream of. She’d been salivating over it except she could never afford something that expensive.

“A new camera.” He pushed it toward her. “For you.”

She took a step back. “Jeez, Shane, no. I can’t accept that. Take it back.”

“You can take it,” he said, shuffling his feet. “I broke yours.”

“You know how much that thing costs? Mine was old. Not worth nearly that much.”

“I’m sure it was new and worth quite a bit when you bought it.”

She crossed her arms. “Look, I’m not taking this overpriced camera just to make you feel better.”

He blinked, the tension leaving his jaw. “You…don’t want it?”

“This isn’t about me or the camera.” Before he could respond, she raised a hand. “Forget it. I didn’t tell my parents, so you won’t be called into the principal’s office or get into trouble, okay?”

He shook his head, looking a bit mulish. “It’s not okay. I’m not doing this to bribe you.” He swallowed, then tilted his chin until he was gazing straight into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

His voice was so low she’d thought she’d imagined it. The muscles in his jaw flexed as she gaped at him. “Did you say something?”

“I’m sorry,” he said more loudly, the set of his shoulders growing tight. He didn’t try to add “if you felt offended” or “if you felt hurt.” Just a simple apology, and he kept his eyes on hers even as a dark flush suffused his cheeks.

He was honestly, genuinely sorry.

She chewed her lower lip, debating what to do as she studied him. Her dad often said that what separated the men from the boys was that a man knew when he was wrong. And what separated cowards from the brave was the latter were able to acknowledge that they were wrong out loud.

Shane had always been like that—doing his best to rise above his circumstances. That was the reason she’d opened her heart to him all those years ago, and that was why she still loved him despite everything.

“I honestly don’t know.” She sighed, feeling empty and aching. “There are things that need to be resolved if we’re going to stay together.”

“What are they?”

“They’re—” Her phone buzzed. She glanced over, debating whether to ignore it or take it.