He laid the cream-colored page on the granite, held down the top margin with his thumb and slid the ballpoint pen across the stone until the metal clip touched my fingers.

“Sign it now,” he whispered.

“No, I won’t,” I said.

David took one step around the island.

His leather shoes made no sound on the runner, but his shadow fell across the paper before I could move my hand.

In two quick strides he reached the archway to the front door and stood squarely in the middle of the dark oak frame, blocking the way to the front porch completely.

“Hand me my purse,” I said.