Ryan moved into their tight circle, his gorgeous wife on his arm. Whitney had only seen Ashley twice before this. Once she’d been in the car when they’d emerged from arbitration. The second time had been when Whitney had charged into the house demanding Lexi’s return. She’d been so concerned about her dog that she’d barely noticed much about the woman Ryan had dumped her for.

Tonight, there was no ignoring the former beauty queen clad in a black silk sheath by some famous designer. The glamorous creature had an aura of poise and self-confidence that was exuded in every beautiful line of her face. A considerable amount of artfully applied makeup enhanced vivid blue eyes and made her lips appear soft and full. Whitney hadn’t bothered with anything except lipstick. After the fire, she’d been left with nothing. She’d bought necessities but not makeup. It wouldn’t have helped anyway.

Ryan spotted Whitney and blinked as if he’d seen a ghost. He usually wielded his charm as if it should be a controlled substance. Now he was smiling again, but Whitney knew him well enough to detect the fury simmering beneath the surface. Obviously, he didn’t want to run into her any more than she wanted to see him.

“This is Ryan and Ashley Fordham,” Walt told them.

“Meet Whitney Marshall and Adam Hunter,” Rod replied as if he’d never heard of Ryan.

“Great dress,” Walt told Whitney.

A strange, hollow feeling invaded Whitney’s body, but before she could even smile a little at the compliment, Ryan told the group, “It should be a great dress. I bought it for Ashley.”

Heaven forbid, Whitney thought, panic curdling her blood. Shock thrummed against her ribs. She had the insane urge to leap at Ashley and scratch her eyes out. The next second she wanted to run screaming into the night.

“R-really,” stuttered Walt.

“Whitney is my ex-wife,” explained Ryan with a chuckle that must have sounded false to everyone. They nervously looked around or sipped their drinks. “Her home burned down. Ashley tossed her a castoff. Right, honey?”

Save me, save me. Whitney prayed for deliverance, but nothing doing. How could she possibly be standing here in the beauty queen’s dress? Wasn’t there any justice in the world? Of all the people on the planet, Whitney would never have expected Ashley to give her clothes. What kind of karma did she have anyway? How could she run into Ryan and his stunningly beautiful new wife-and be wearing a dress the woman no longer wanted?

Her blue eyes wide, Ashley gazed at Whitney. “I wanted to help. It must be terrible having nothing. I-”

“Not as terrible as dying,” Whitney cut her off. She deeply resented the woman’s sanctimonious tone.

“We’re late for dinner.” Adam nudged Whitney. “Good to see everyone.”

Whitney mustered the strength to mumble goodbye to Rod. She couldn’t look at Ashley.

“Are you okay?” Adam asked as he hustled her down the sidewalk to his car.

“Never better.” Tears burned the back of her eyes. She was thankful it was too dark for Adam to see.

He quickly unlocked the door and opened it for her. She scrambled inside as fast as she could, conscious of the noise from the gallery behind her. In despair, she slumped against the seat. Adam got in and turned to her.

“Oh, babe, what can I say?”

She told herself not to cry. Tears couldn’t help anything. What had her mother always said? Count your blessings. The man next to her popped into her mind first. Then Lexi and the dogs whose lives had been spared because they’d been with her during the fire.

The fire.

Like a flashbulb going off in her brain, the fire flared on the screen in her mind. Lives could have been lost. But they’d all escaped the inferno. Now, that was a true blessing.

Pressure kept building in her chest and suddenly she heard herself giggling. It sounded a bit forced, maybe a little hysterical. She checked the burbling laughter. Get a grip, she told herself.

“What’s so funny?” Adam demanded.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Silly me. I could be dead right now. Just a charred crisp. Why let a stupid dress upset me?”

Adam cupped her chin in his warm hand. “Because the woman responsible for so much of the pain in your life owned the dress. Ashley should have left a note or something.”

“True, but I’m going to be understanding. She wanted to help. Why I don’t know, but she did. Maybe she felt sorry for me because Lexi had disappeared and she knew the dog was all I had.”

Adam didn’t respond for a moment. He dropped his hand and drew back. In the dark shadows of the car, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” she said softly. “It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m sure one day, I’ll look back and laugh, but tonight I wanted to run and hide.”

He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. The look in his eyes was so galvanizing that it sent a tremor through her. The warm touch of his lips was a delicious sensation. She returned his kiss with reckless abandon.

He drew back a fraction of an inch and whispered in her ear, “That might have been Ashley’s dress, but it was made for you. Let’s not waste it. I’m taking you to dinner at Chive. We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

His lips brushed her temple as he spoke. “Celebrating us.”

ASHLEY WAS CAPTIVATED BY the enormous canvases and liked the little man who’d painted them even though he couldn’t keep his eyes off her breasts. But Ryan was being a first-class jerk. Oh, he was chipper to everyone else but beneath the facade lurked a lethal coolness directed at Ashley.

So what if she’d given Whitney some clothes she no longer used? Ashley had stolen the most important thing in Whitney’s life-Ryan. She felt sorry for the woman and embarrassed about her own behavior. True, Whitney seemed to have hooked up with that hunk Adam, but as gorgeous as he was, Adam Hunter couldn’t be compared to a successful cosmetic surgeon.

Finally, Walter Nance decided it was time to leave. They had to wait in the valet parking line for their car. Emily kept prattling on and on about the new home they were building and how one of Vladimir’s paintings was “so made for their living room.” Ashley tried to listen politely but her mind was on what Ryan was going to say when they were alone.

“Ashley’s not feeling well,” Ryan told Walter Nance as the valet pulled up with the surgeon’s Bentley. “We’re going to pass on dinner.”

“Are you okay?” Emily asked. “You didn’t say anything.”

“I-I’ll be all right.” Ashley glanced over her shoulder. Ryan couldn’t have timed this announcement any better. There were too many people hovering in line behind him, anxious to get their cars, to discuss her health. The Nances hopped into their car, saying goodbye.

Ashley waited in silence. Ryan’s Porsche was right behind the Bentley. They got in and Ryan drove off without tipping the valet. Ashley waited. She hadn’t done anything so wrong. Why cancel their dinner plans?

“I bought that dress for you,” Ryan finally said several tense minutes later. “I picked it out at a boutique with one-of-a-kind outfits. The butterfly pin cost extra.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know. I’d worn it and thought…” She didn’t say how much she disliked the dress. She wouldn’t have worn it at all if Ryan hadn’t given it to her. She preferred black. It was a sophisticated color-a blonde’s best color.

She could have added the dress wasn’t chic enough for an evening like this, but didn’t. She knew Whitney had nothing else to wear. And the raspberry-colored dress did look fabulous on her.

“I wonder why Whitney was there,” Ashley said.

Ryan slapped his open palm so hard against the dashboard that she flinched. “Who gives a shit? That’s not the point.”

Ashley didn’t ask what the point was. She was afraid to say another word. Ryan was moody at times, but he’d never been this angry with her. She recalled what Whitney had said when she’d come to the house looking for Lexi. Ryan wouldn’t get physical, would he?