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of things when I'm back home."
    "Do you enjoy the wine business?" she asked curiously.
    "Sure. I've grown up in it. I helped harvest the grapes when I was just a kid. As a matter of fact, my father used to say that I was always underfoot-and making a nuisance of myself."
    Robyn tried to picture an eager, black-haired little boy with bright green eyes, but the grown man across the table from her kept getting in the way. Her awareness of him was so powerful it felt almost like a fixation.
    And that was scary. It didn't fit in with her neat little explanation for Friday night. But if Shane hadn't been just a reminder of Brian, then why had she...?
    Robyn thrust the half-formed question from her mind. Of course he had been; there was no other possible explanation.
    She would tell Shane the truth. He would be angry. Angry and probably disgusted. He would leave her life as abruptly as he had entered it. And he would leave hating her.
    But it had to be that way. Involvement with him would only plunge her back into the strangling web of worry and terror that her marriage to Brian had woven around her. She wouldn't let that happen; her confession would drive him away from her. Now... before it was too late.

 
CHAPTER THREE
    Hours later, Shane pulled the Porsche to a stop in the driveway of Robyn's home. She had chosen her own place rather than his hotel mainly because she had a feeling that she just might need moral support once Shane knew the truth. At least here she had Marty, although, judging by the darkened house, Marty was already in bed.
    It was late. They had stayed in the restaurant for hours, then simply driven around Miami, still talking. Weary with pondering her emotions, Robyn had allowed herself-or, rather, forced herself-to think of the meeting as just another date, one that would be ending any time now.
    "Nice place." Shane got out of the car and came around to open her door. "A little big, though."
    Robyn waited until they were standing beneath the front porch light before responding to his comment, and when she did speak it was in a very deliberate tone. "Brian bought it shortly after we were married. We both wanted a large family." She sensed him tensing beside her, but she continued to pay careful attention to locating the keys in her purse.
    Once they were found, she unlocked the door and silently moved ahead of him into the house, leading the way to the den, where a lamp burned. She turned on another lamp and dropped her purse into a chair, trying to fight the cravenness inside her that wanted to avoid this confrontation at all costs.
    "Robyn-"
    "There's the bar," she said quickly, pointing to one corner of the large room. "Help yourself."
    Shane stared at her for a moment, obviously puzzled by her nervousness, then strode across the room and splashed some brandy into a snifter. He looked over his shoulder at her. "What will you have?"
    "Nothing." Robyn had never in her life wanted a drink as badly as she did right then, but she knew Dutch courage wouldn't help her. She sank down onto the couch and watched as he came over to lower his weight beside her. When he put his arm around her, she straightened tensely.
    "Robyn..." There was a curiously bleak tone to his voice. "Honey, don't pull away from me."
    She glanced at him, then rose to her feet, turning to face him and feeling a little less intimidated because he was still seated. Her mind kept repeating Get it over with as though it were a litany.
    Steadily, she said, "Friday night was a mistake, Shane. What you think is between us-it isn't real."
    He sipped his brandy slowly, watching her through hooded green eyes. "It felt real enough to me," he objected quietly.
    "That's because you don't know why-why I left with you. Why it all happened."
    "Then tell me." He continued to watch her steadily. "Why did it all happen?"
    Almost inaudibly, she whispered, "You reminded me of-of Brian."
    For a long moment, she thought he hadn't heard her, or hadn't understood. Then,