“That wasn’t a threat.” He took her hand, holding it until she looked up at him again. “I don’t see how it could come as that much of a surprise to you.”

But it had. She expected affection. That was something she could deal with. She understood respect. But love—that was such a fragile word. Such an easily broken word. And something inside her begged for it to be taken from him, cherished, protected. Summer struggled against it.

“Blake, I don’t need to hear that sort of thing the way other women do. Please—”

“Maybe you don’t.” He hadn’t started the way he’d intended to, but now that he had, he’d finish. “But I need to say it. I’ve needed to for a long time now.”

She drew her hand from his and nervously picked up her glass again. “I’ve always thought that words are the first thing that can damage a relationship.”

“When they’re not said,” Blake countered. “It’s a lack of words, a lack of meaning, that damages a relationship. This one isn’t a word I use casually.”

“No.” She could believe that. It might have been the belief that had the fear growing stronger. Love, when it was given demanded some kind of return. She wasn’t ready—she was sure she wasn’t ready. “I think it’s best, if we want things to go on as they are, that we—”

“I don’t want things to go on as they are,” he interrupted. He’d rather have felt annoyance than this panic that was sneaking in. He took a moment, trying to alleviate both. “I want you to marry me.”

“No.” Summer’s own panic became full-blown. She stood quickly, as if that would erase the words, put back the distance. “No, that’s impossible.”

“It’s very possible.” He rose too, unwilling to have her draw away from him. “I want you to share my life, my name. I want to share children with you and all the years it takes to watch them grow.”

“Stop.” She threw up her hand, desperate to halt the words. They were moving her, and she knew it would be too easy to say yes and make that ultimate mistake.

“Why?” Before she could prevent it, he’d taken her face in his hands. The touch was gentle, though there was steel beneath. “Because you’re afraid to admit it’s something you want, too?”

“No, it’s not something I want—it’s not something I believe in. Marriage—it’s a license that costs a few dollars. A piece of paper. For a few thousand dollars more, you can get a divorce decree. Another piece of paper.”

He could feel her trembling and cursed himself for not knowing how to get through. “You know better than that. Marriage is two people who make promises to each other, and who make the effort to keep them. A divorce is giving up.”

“I’m not interested in promises.” Desperate, she pushed his hands from her face and stepped back. “I don’t want any made to me, and I don’t want to make any. I’m happy with my life just as it is. I have my career to think of.”