Page 56 of Trap ’N’ Trace

She bit her lower lip, looking adorable but upset. “The only thing I want to say about what happened upstairs, is that I’m sorry.”

“Never be sorry for that. You were hurting. You still are.” We both are. “For the record, I wanted to, but I can’t. You’re a witness. My job is to protect you, not…” Yeah, he didn’t have to say it.

“I know.” Still not looking at him directly, she went to a corner of the library and pulled a book from the shelf. As she flipped through it, several worn pages slipped out and drifted to the floor. Dropping to her knees, she began gathering the sheets. Dayne joined her and picked up one of the pages, handing it to her.

“Thank you.” Taking excessive care not to touch him, she tucked the pages back into the book then ran her hand reverently over the cover’s worn, faded edges. There was no picture on the cover, only the title: Dogs of Character, by Cecil Aldin. “As a child, this was my favorite book. My father gave it to me. I must have read it fifty times. I even read it again last year. It’s so fragile now the pages practically disintegrate in my hands.”

“What’s it about?” He tried imagining her as a little girl sitting on one of the giant leather sofas, snuggled up with the book in her hands.

“The author wrote it for children to help them decide what breed of dog would suit them best and how to train it. There are so many beautiful illustrations inside. The last promise my father ever made to me was that he would find a first edition signed by the author, one that wasn’t falling apart.” She smiled tiredly.

“I take it he never did.”

“No.” Her smile faded as she returned the book to the shelf. “Not for lack of trying. The book is rare, written in 1927. There are a few available on the internet. The problem is finding one in good condition, and the author only signed two hundred fifty first editions. Growing up, this book—and, dogs, of course—were my best friends.” She sighed. “I thought I was lucky to have found real friends, but sometimes I never know why people want to be around me. Not for sure.”

“Do you consider those women your friends?” He hoped not. With backstabbing friends like that, he’d be looking over his shoulder twenty-four seven.

She hesitated. “I’ve known them since I was a child.”

“The amount of time you’ve known someone doesn’t automatically make them a friend. In case you didn’t notice, not once in the last three hours did they ask how you were or say anything about you losing a close friend. None of them—including Colin—was there for you at the funeral home, but they show up here with champagne to celebrate?”

Her lips compressed. “Don’t you think that’s being a little harsh?”

“It’s the truth.”

She lifted her chin high, pressing her lips together. “Maybe I just didn’t see it until now.”

“See what?”

Her shoulders sagged more, as if she carried the weight of the world on them. “That most people are only my friends because they want something from me.”

“Money?”

“Yes, but not always. Sometimes, all they want is association. Wealth, fame, and the power that comes with it has to be wielded wisely and with compassion.”

“That’s a heavy burden.” One he couldn’t imagine. He was also beginning to understand her need to isolate herself in this castle. These walls were her protection. She had everything yet just might be the loneliest person he’d ever met.

“I’ll survive.” The phony smile she pasted on didn’t convince him. “Not to worry. I’ve lived with it all my life.”

“I’m not worrying, I—” Liar. He’d crossed way over the line and stepped ass-deep into her personal life. A mistake he kept repeating. He shoved a hand through his hair. The best thing he could do was to make a tactical retreat before he opened his big mouth again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not my place. It’s just that—” Don’t say it. “You deserve better.”

Turning abruptly, he snapped his fingers. “Remy. Angus.” The dogs leaped to their feet and followed him. He went outside, nodding to the guard who’d stepped from his vehicle.

Dayne started down the driveway as the dogs scampered onto the grass, sniffing and doing their stuff. The night air was cool and felt good on his face. If there was any chance at all that he could get some sleep, he needed to walk off all the caffeine shooting through his system faster than a speeding bullet.

Caffeine wasn’t why he was so twisted up inside. It was because she did deserve better. Better than those sycophantic women masquerading as her friends. Better than Colin or that faceless asshole, Chad.

Better than me.

He stopped in his tracks. That was the realization eating him alive.

He’d never be good enough for her, either.

Chapter Sixteen

Kat woke to the French mantel clock ticking away on her nightstand. Green onyx surrounded the gilded metal face that told her she needed to get her lazy ass out of bed.

Turning her face into the pillow, she swore she could smell Dayne’s aftershave. She drew him into her lungs, reliving every lust-filled moment.