“There have been fewer come-ons than one might think.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She glared at him. “Are you deliberately trying to humiliate me?”
“No. I’m deliberately trying to understand.”
She stood and walked to the balcony, standing with her back to the sea. She didn’t think he was being mean. A part of her wanted to believe that Rafe found her attractive. She sighed. Was this before or after aliens landed and delivered the secret to the universe?
“I never had much luck with dating,” she said, staring at a spot over his head. “I was too tall, too smart and too skinny. Plus with all the moving around, I never exactly found a place where I fit in. I didn’t date in high school, and in college I was slow to make friends. About the time I finally had a group of people I trusted and a few boys who might have been interested, my mom died. Not only did I have to deal with that, but Cleo moved in with me. We had the combination of our loss and our fear of being discovered and her taken away. That pretty much nipped any potential relationships in the bud.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Absolutely.”
She wanted to ask why. No doubt he was simply being polite. No doubt she should excuse herself and head back to her room. Except she enjoyed standing in the dark, talking with him. As Cleo was forever reminding her—she was way too much of a dreamer.
“I moved to Washington State to attend graduate school,” she said. “So it was a while before I met people and got settled. There were a few guys, but no one special. Then I met Jon.”
Rafe stretched his legs out in front of him. “Why don’t I like this guy?”
“I don’t know. He was very nice. Charming. Funny. He was an administrator at the college. We got along really well.” She hesitated. No way was she going to tell Rafe that there hadn’t been any passion between them. At least not on his side. “He changed me,” she said instead. “I can’t explain it. He made suggestions about my clothes—things that helped me feel more attractive.”
Rafe stared at her. “A guy had suggestions about your clothes? I assume this was more than asking you to take them off.”
“Of course. He never—” She pressed her lips together. “We didn’t exactly, you know.”
“You weren’t lovers.”
She closed her eyes, then forced herself to open them and meet his steady gaze. “No. We were not.” She cleared her throat. “But there were other compensations and when Jon proposed, I accepted.”
Rafe sprang to his feet. “You married the guy?”
“Not exactly.”
He stalked over to the railing and stood next to her. Really, the man was unreasonably tall. She hated that she had to tilt her head to look at him.
“We were engaged for a time.”
“How long?”
“Two years.”
“Two years!” His voice exploded into the quiet of the night. “Are you kidding?” He spoke more quietly. “You were engaged to this guy for two years and you never slept with him.”
“We wanted to wait.”
“For what? Nuclear winter?”
“Some people prefer the sanctity of marriage.”
Rafe shook his head. “This afternoon you were complaining that if you were really a princess you would never get the chance to have sex. That doesn’t sound like a ‘sanctity of marriage’ argument to me.”
She sighed. “All right. Perhaps I didn’t agree with what we were doing, but I could hardly force the man. By that time I was twenty-six, nearly twenty-seven and I was very ready to see what all the fuss was about.”
“Did you confront this bozo?”
“No. Three weeks before the wedding, Jon told me that he wanted to break off our engagement. He’d been wrestling with some issues that could no longer be ignored.”
Rafe swore. “He was gay, right?”
Zara’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know?”
“The guy helped you pick out clothes. Most men can barely dress themselves and if it’s more complicated than a navy-blue suit or jeans, forget it. Plus, going two years without sex, especially when he had a hot fiancée who was more than willing—it doesn’t make sense any other way.”