“To make you an offer,” he said. “You know I’ve never approved of your singing career—working in seedy bars, being ogled by the men, all for barely enough money to cover your expenses. I imagine my attitude was part of the reason you broke up with me.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “But seeing you tonight, up there on that stage, just glowing, made me realize that I was wrong. You have every right to pursue your dream, Megan. Come back to me and I’ll support your singing career one hundred percent.”

“So I’d have your total backing to perform, when and wherever I wanted?” Her voice dripped skepticism—not that he would have noticed.

“That’s one way to put it. I’d even let you quit your teaching job if you were ready to go full-time with your singing career.” He turned onto a quiet street and stopped at the curb. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small velvet box and opened it. An impressive-looking diamond ring glittered in the overhead light of a nearby streetlamp.

“I know I’m supposed to get down on one knee,” he said. “But that’s not possible in the car, and it’s too cold to get out on the sidewalk.” He thrust the ring awkwardly toward her. “Megan Carson, will you marry me?”

Megan stared at the ring, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Derek wasn’t a bad man. But the fact that he had the diamond with him hinted that he’d planned this whole setup. The things he’d said about her performance were nothing but empty flattery. She could have fallen on her face, and he still would have called her “incandescent.” For all she knew, he hadn’t even been inside the theater.

She shoved the ring back toward him. “Put that away,” she said.

He looked wounded. “Do you need more time?”

“No. The truth is, I don’t want to marry you, Derek. I don’t want to date you. I don’t even want to work for you.”

Stunned into momentary silence, he dropped the ring box back into his pocket. “There’s somebody else, isn’t there?”

“Yes, there’s somebody else.” Just saying the words was a release.

“Somebody in Branding Iron?”

“Yes.”

“Has he asked you to marry him?”

“No.”

“Has he told you that he loves you?”

“Not yet.”

“He’ll break your heart, you know.” Anger had crept into Derek’s voice. “When he does, you’ll come crawling to me and beg me to take you back.”

Megan gave him a hint of a smile. “That’s a chance I’ll have to take—and I’m taking it because I love him. Now please drive me back to my apartment. You’ll have my letter of resignation in the next couple of days, mailed from Branding Iron. That should give you plenty of time to find a replacement for my job.”

“And what about your great singing career?” Derek started the car and pulled away from the curb. “You weren’t really incandescent up there, you know. You can barely sing on key, and in that Lacy Leatherwood getup, you look like a two-bit streetwalker.”