Van had been her only lover, the man she’d hoped to have children with. The man she hadn’t trusted to love her. And as he walked away, straight and masculine in jeans and a black sweater, he was more the man she’d loved than he’d ever been.She could remember watching him across the skating rink, wanting him as if they hadn’t made love just moments before they’d come to skate. She’d been so proud to be his wife. Her friends had lusted for his lean, lanky frame, and they’d told her in high school she just liked him because he was an older guy and because her father liked him so much.She knew the day he’d finally opened his eyes and seen her. It had been the Christmas season then, too. Van and her father had spent a week with the bank’s auditors. She’d made them a late dinner, and she’d served them both. After she’d squeezed her father’s shoulder, filling his glass with tea, it had been natural to do the same for Van.He’d caught her hand as if it had burned him, and he’d looked into her eyes with the awareness she’d dreamed of seeing.
