He eyed her for a second, as if trying to read her mind. A small smile toyed at his lips. “You were catering the wedding and trying your best to look grown-up.”

“And you were doing your best I-don’t-give-a-damn-about-anything impression.”

“Did it work?”

“Oh, yeah. Big time. Everyone who saw you thought you were the reason we’d hired security guards.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “That was a long time ago.”

“A lifetime,” she admitted, a trifle breathlessly. It was happening again, this feeling of closeness and intimacy that she wished didn’t exist.

“You weren’t married yet.”

“Neither were you,” she retorted.

“Never have been.”

“Why not?” she asked, but before he could answer, she added, “And don’t give me the line about not finding the right woman, Santini, because I wouldn’t believe it.”

He hesitated for a second and when his gaze returned to hers it was dark, intense. The wind seemed to have died and it was so quiet she heard the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. “Maybe I found her, but she was promised to someone else.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“In fact, she was engaged to my brother.”

Oh, God. There it was. So many times since Philip’s death she’d wondered. Had the one night she’d spent with J.D. been, as she’d told herself, just two people trying to console each other in their grief? Or had it been more? This was dangerous territory, very dangerous, and yet she couldn’t resist stepping over the imaginary line she’d drawn in her mind. “For me,” she said, swallowing against a lump in her throat, “commitments aren’t to be broken.”

“I know.”

“I . . . I loved your brother.”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

“I know your family thought I married him for his part of the Santini estate, or for the fact that I never knew my own father and was searching for a replacement, but the truth is I fell in love with Philip. It might not have been the wild passion people expect to find, and it certainly changed and became . . . more difficult as the years went by, but I loved him nonetheless.”

J.D. snorted. “So did I.” His lips flattened into a thin, self-deprecating line. “Why do you think I stayed away for so long?”

“I . . .I didn’t know.”

“Why do you think I’m leaving now?”

“Oh, God, don’t say it—”

“Because I can’t stand the thought that I want my brother’s wife.” His expression was grave. “I saw your marriage falling apart,” he admitted. “I know that Philip became . . . less enchanted and I beat myself up because a part of me wanted it to fail.”