Shay shrugged, confused. “Until you gave me that money for helping with the book, it was just a dream, Mitch. I have a child to support and I couldn’t have taken the risks. What would be the point in talking about something I didn’t expect to be able to do?”

There was a short silence while Mitch absorbed the things Shay had said. “I guess I did overreact a little,” he finally admitted. His eyes met hers. “I’m sorry about this morning, too. I had no right to do that.”

“It was pretty crazy,” Shay agreed, but she couldn’t bring herself to be angry. Instead her whole being seemed to resonate with a feeling of contentment. “What made you do it?”

Mitch’s broad shoulders moved in a shrug and he rubbed his beard-stubbled chin with one hand as he thought. “It was a hell of a way to show it, but I love you, Shay.”

Shay swallowed hard. She had really heard the words; this time she wasn’t dreaming or so caught up in the throes of passion that she couldn’t be sure she’d understood them correctly. She tried to speak and failed.

“You don’t believe me?”

Shay swallowed again. “We haven’t known each other very long, Mitch. Oth-other things are so good between us that—well, we could be confusing that with love, couldn’t we?”

“Marry me,” he said.

“No,” she replied. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Oh, that’s a great answer. God, I hate it when I ask someone a simple question and they say ‘because’!”

Shay couldn’t resist a smile, though it was a sad one. “I guess the day is over, huh?”

Mitch was glaring at her. “I guess it is. But we aren’t over. Is that clear, Shay? You and I are not over.”

“For a bestselling writer, you have terrible grammar. Speaking of that, how’s the book going?”

“I’m halfway through the first draft,” Mitch answered in clipped and somewhat grudging tones. “Why won’t you marry me, Shay? Don’t you love me?”

“As crazy as it seems, I think I do love you. If I didn’t, I would have been on the main highway, trying to flag down a state patrolman.”

“But?”

“But I’ve seen my mother fail at marriage over and over. I’ve failed at it myself. I can’t go through that again, Mitch.”

“If you need to prove that you can make it on your own, well, it seems to me that you’ve already done that.”

“Have I, Mitch? Until you came along and offered me a fat fee for my help in writing that book about my mother, I was barely making it from one payday to the next. I haven’t proved anything; I’ve just been lucky.”

Mitch shook his head. “So now it’s the catering business. If you make that fly, you’re a valid person. Is that it, Shay?”

“I guess it is.”

“Then I feel sorry for you.”

The words came as a slap in the face to Shay; she sat back on the narrow bench, her eyes wide, her breath caught in her throat. “What?”