"I told you a lot of things you didn't believe."

Damn, she had cried Gray out of her system a long time ago.

There were no tears left.

So why did she feel this insistent press behind her eyes?

"No, I did believe you," she said quietly.

"That was the problem."

He looked at her, waiting for an explanation.

Waiting for something he could work with.

Something that he could believe.

But it was too late for that, he reminded himself.

Years too late.

He had changed.

His edges were sharper, harder.

He wasn't that young boy on the brink of manhood anymore.

He had lost the ability to believe in miracles.

Having her and making a marriage work came under that heading.

Miracles.

Caitlin squared her shoulders.

"Look, I meant what I said. You can't stay here."

It was almost a plea, though her voice remained emotionless.

It wasn't only the customers she didn't want him interfering with.

It was her.

Her mind, her life.

Having him around was just too painful to endure.

If she had told herself she was over him-over the heartache-seeing him

here, looking more hauntingly handsome than ever, told her that she had only been lying to herself.

She wasn't over him at all.

But he didn't have to know that.

He remained where he was, a solid, steadfast tin soldier.

Tiny sparks of desperation began to shoot through her.

"Can't you watch me from across the street? Canvass the area?

Something?"

It could be done.

Not comfortably, but then, he hadn't joined the force to be comfortable.

"Is it that hard for you to look at me?"

There was no hesitation.

"Yes."

He had his answer.

No matter what she feigned to the contrary, how tolerant she pretended

to be, it was obvious that Caitlin still felt the same way she had when she had written that letter to him.

The letter that told him she had changed her mind about marrying him.

That a marriage between them would be a mistake that they would.

both regret in time.

The letter that ended his only dream.

In his heart he had always known that it wouldn't work out between

them.

That what they had was too fragile, too precious to survive.

But stubbornly he had tried, ignoring warnings, ignoring the odds.

Reading the words, seeing them in black and white, had cut him to the

bone.

And ripped out the heart that had been hers.

Maybe he'd be better off outside at that.

At any rate, for all intents and purposes, he already was.

Graham nodded shortly.

"All right, have it your way."

Caitlin watched him leave without another word.

She stood very still as the sound of the bell faded into the air.

For a moment she couldn't move.

She felt drained.

"If I had," she whispered to the man who was no longer there, "things

would have been very different."

The rustling curtain behind her startled Caitlin.

She turned in surprise.

She'd forgotten that she wasn't alone.

"Is it safe to come out yet?"

Sticking out her curly blond head, Kerry peered through the parted

curtains.

Eva gave Caitlin a shy look and returned to her work as if nothing had happened.

Eva liked minding her own business.

No such affliction plagued Kerry.

Caitlin laughed.

Thank God for Kerry.

Thank God for someone she could talk to about absolutely nothing. "Come on out, you coward." ' Kerry saw no purpose in denying what was true. She had no desire to get into an argument with Caitlin's mother or the big, strong, silent police detective. There were better things to do with men like that, anyway.

She pulled the curtain closed behind her.

"What's the body count?"

Caitlin gestured around the store.

There were no customers.

She hoped the newspaper story hadn't chased them away.

That would really be adding insult to injury.

"None."

Kerry looked wistfully toward the door.

"I see the hunk left." 7 Caitlin's mouth curved.

For Kerry, men fell into only two categories: hunks and nonhunks.

"Yes."

Kerry began to languidly straighten out a display that was in perfect

order.

Her mind wasn't on her work.