Free The Burning Point by Mary Jo Putney

blonde hair. Just being near her had made him happy. If they were working in different parts of the house, he regularly sought her out for a hug to reassure himself that she was real, not the enchanting subject of a dream.
    Not only had she been a miracle in herself, she had opened so many doors for him. Effortlessly relaxed with all kinds of people, she had helped him become equally at ease. With her, he had found a real home. Not that his relatives hadn't been kind. His assorted aunts and uncles would be hurt to know that he'd never felt that he really belonged with any of them. He hadn't belonged anywhere, until Kate.
    It was his own damned fault that their marriage had ended. He knew it, Kate knew it, though they'd both stonewalled everyone about their break-up. After Sam refused to hear his confession, it had been impossible to tell anyone else. As for Kate, she'd always been very private about the things closest to her heart. Her friends and family knew better than to pry about a subject she had posted as off-limits.
    Because he and Kate had kept the secrets of their marriage, Sam had brazenly decided to try to throw them together again. It felt like a betrayal of the years of trust and affection between Donovan and his former father-in-law.
    Or was it? As he stared into the blowing flakes, he realized that Sam had trusted Donovan with his daughter once, and he'd wanted to again. The will wasn't an act of betrayal, but of deep faith. A charge laid by a dead man onto the living.
    Though Donovan had only seen Kate for an hour today, it was clear how much she had changed from the girl he'd fallen in love with. Much of her openness was gone, and in his heart, he was sure the blame for that rested squarely him.
    Yet he would always care for her deeply. Maybe not in the same way as when they were young, but he'd walk-through fire for her. He owed her more than he could ever repay, and Sam's will was offering a chance to try to make amends. If Donovan was wise enough, maybe he could undo some of the damage he'd caused.
    He would have to act with great patience and care, or she'd be back in San Francisco like a rocket. He must win her trust. Be her friend again, as they had once before been each other's best friend.
    Because even more than he wanted her for himself, he wanted what was best for her. And the best would never be him.
    After he sorted things out, he pulled the Jeep back onto the road and headed for home. Sam's funeral and meeting Kate had already made this one of bitch of day, and the situation was sure to get worse. But now, at least, he had something to work for.
    Expiation of his sins.
    ∗ ∗ ∗
    Kate's bedroom had changed little in the years since she'd left, and she winced every time she entered. Not that her mother had kept the place as a shrine--Julia was far too sensible for that.
    But the bedroom still held a lot of Kate, because she'd consciously decided to travel light when she moved into her married life with Donovan. They had needed to start together as equals. Since he had few personal possessions beyond clothes and books, she hadn't wanted to fill their new home with objects from her parents' house.
    So her old bookcase still held beloved children's books that Kate had vaguely assumed she would retrieve when she had her first child. Bright Scandinavian rya rugs she'd chosen under her mother's guidance warmed the floor, and the prairie star quilt on the bed had been made by the two of them during Kate's twelfth summer.
    A lot of conversation and family stories were stitched into that quilt. It had been the last summer of her childhood. By the next year she was a teenager with other interests. No doubt Julia had seen that coming, which was why she'd suggested the quilt project.
    Sleeping in her old room took Kate back to a simpler time, when she'd believed in happy endings. Feeling ancient and cynical, she turned on the electric blanket, curled up in the armchair, and called San Francisco again for