He walked to the window overlooking the street and watched the raindrops trickle down the glass. They might have been tears for his shattered illusions. He could not believe what she'd just said. David Nesbitt had always been the man who had everything. A good man, an excellent man, who deserved every ounce of good fortune in life. Adam had loved him and envied him. For his intellect, his character, his marriage. For his wife. And yet this man who met success at every turn had failed at the one thing Adam could now admit he'd envied the most. God! "I do not know what to say." He could not look at her. She would see the torment in his eyes. The torment of knowing she had never experienced the full passion of sexual intimacy. The torment of knowing that someone else would be the one to introduce her to it. If David Nesbitt weren't already dead, Adam would wring his foolish, imperfect neck. The man had wasted a good woman.
