Her back stiffened with resolve. “No? Well, I meant every word I said,” she responded coolly, struggling to maintain her crumbling composure.

“No, you don’t. You love me. You need me.”

He was so confident, so sure of himself, that Marjorie wanted to kick herself for being so gullible. The signs had been there from the beginning, and she’d refused to see them, refused to believe them. Her love for Sam had blinded her to the truth. She was a charity case to him in the same way that kitten had been all those years ago. He might believe he felt something for her now, but time would prove him wrong. He honestly believed she couldn’t get by without him.

“Marjorie, I’m not exactly sure what’s going on in that wonderfully crazy mind of yours, but if you want me to tell you that I associated you with that lost kitten, then I’ll admit as much—but only in the beginning.”

The room swayed, and she reached out a hand in an effort to maintain her balance. Briefly she closed her eyes. “You admit it?”

“Yes. But only in the beginning,” he repeated softly. “You were so fragile, so afraid, and there was no one there for you when you were ill.”

“Do I hear violin music in the background?” she taunted. It dented her considerable pride to hear Sam refer to her in those terms, though, to be fair, she remembered how she’d clung to him, begging him to stay with her. That had been a low point in her life, and now he was using it against her. Worse, he hadn’t an inkling of why she was so offended, and she’d thought he knew her so well.

“Later I was attracted to your courage,” he added, ignoring her gibe. “And your pride and your candor. I discovered that I spent half my time thinking about you. When you were discharged, I racked my brain for days trying to think of a way to see you again. I wanted to help you—and I finally came up with the idea of buying the car. By then I knew you were special.”

“As I explained before, I don’t need your charity.”

“It wasn’t charity, not in the way you think!” Sam shouted, losing his patience. “The only thing I did was help you, and you make it sound as if I’ve committed some terrible crime.”

As far as Marjorie was concerned, he had.

“I was in love with you then—only I didn’t know it. And now I know I love you. More than I thought it was possible to love another human being. If you don’t want me to call you Kitten again, then fine, I won’t.”