The Marriage Profile by Metsy Hingle Page A

burnished the sharp lines of his cheeks. “Yeah, well, can’t say that I blame you. I didn’t do such a good job of handling things last night. Seeing you…well, it took me by surprise. I was out of line.”
    Angela knew what a proud, stubborn man Justin was, so the unexpected admission that he was wrong left her reeling. She opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure what to say.
    It was Justin who spoke. “Anyway, I apologize for the way I acted last night.”
    â€œApology accepted,” she finally managed to say.
    â€œI’d have apologized to you sooner, but I couldn’t find you at either of the hotels.”
    â€œI didn’t stay at a hotel.”
    â€œYeah, I figured that much,” he said, a slight edge in his voice. “And I don’t suppose you drove all the way back to San Antonio last night and then turned around and drove back here this morning.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t.”
    His lips tightened at her response, but he made no comment. And the short break in the tension between them evaporated as quickly as it had come. Once again Angela rued her decision to accept this assignment. “May I?” she asked, motioning to the chair in front of his desk.
    â€œSuit yourself,” Justin replied, and once she was seated, he sat down in the black swivel chair behind the battered mahogany desk.
    Striving to smooth the way for the bombshell she intended to drop on him, she said, “For what it’s worth, I didn’t make the decision to attend the dedication ceremony at the hospital until the last minute. Otherwise, I would have called and warned you that I’d be there.”
    â€œAs you pointed out last night, I don’t own Mission Creek and you’re no longer my wife. Where you go and who you go there with isn’t any of my business.”
    The cool reminder stung. “True. But considering that we share a history, telling you that I’d planned to be there would have been the courteous thing to do. I’m sorry that I didn’t.”
    â€œFine. Now that we’ve both got our apologies out of the way, you’re going to have to excuse me because I need to get back to work.” Without waiting for her answer, he reached for the stack of mail in his incoming basket. “You can just leave the door open on your way out.”
    His dismissal stunned Angela almost as much as it irritated her. “Believe it or not, I didn’t come here becauseI felt I owed you an apology or because I expected one from you.”
    â€œWhatever you say. But I can’t imagine anything else we have to discuss and I really do need to get back to work.” Obviously believing the matter was at an end, he went back to perusing the papers in front of him.
    Angered by his arrogance, Angela shoved to her feet. “Aren’t you even the least bit interested in knowing why I’m here?”
    â€œNot particularly,” he told her without so much as a glance in her direction.
    Suddenly Angela’s patience snapped. She came around the desk, slapped her hands down on the papers in front of him. “Dammit, Wainwright, look at me!”
    Slowly he lifted his gaze to hers. And the heat in those green eyes sucked the breath right out of her. “All right, Mason. I’m looking.”
    Angela’s pulse jumped. Her head began to spin, and she tried to remember exactly what it was she’d been about to say to him.
    â€œAs much as I enjoy looking at you, Angel, I’m pressed for time. So if you’ve got something on your mind, I suggest you spit it out.”
    Angela felt a sharp pang at Justin’s use of the pet name he’d given her during the early days of their courtship. She started to speak, but her throat seemed impossibly tight, and she closed her mouth again. She couldn’t think about the past now, she reminded herself.
    â€œYou going to tell me why you’re all worked up? Or am I supposed