Susan Mallery - Wife in Disguise

Three more crises had followed his mother’s phone call, which meant Del didn’t pull into his driveway until after five that afternoon. He sat in his truck and wondered what he was supposed to say to Josie. Bad enough that Jasmine came by the house, but worse that Josie had been there to witness it. Plus, Jasmine had had a key in her possession. What would Josie think about that?

He shook his head. He knew exactly what she would think-what anyone would think. That he and Jasmine were close enough to be physically intimate and coming and going freely in each other’s homes. Which might have been true at one time, but wasn’t anymore.

Guilt made him not want to go inside. He tried reminding himself that he and Josie had been divorced for three years and what he did in his free time wasn’t her business. He almost believed it, too. But not quite. Something had happened when he’d brought Josie home with him. Not so much an emotional connection between them as an unspoken agreement about responsibility. He hated that Jasmine might have said some pretty cruel things to Josie. He wanted to apologize for them but wasn’t sure if mentioning them would make the situation better or worse.

After a couple of minutes he reminded himself that acting like a coward got nothing accomplished. He stepped out of the truck cab and headed for the front door. As he used his key to let himself in, he half expected something to come flying at his head. Josie wasn’t violent by nature but she could be a little aggressive when provoked.

But she wasn’t there to greet him. In fact the house was surprisingly quiet. There weren’t even any lights on anywhere. His chest tightened with the realization that something might be wrong. Or she could have left him.

“Josie?” he called anxiously.

“Oh, hi. I’m back in the kitchen. But I have to warn you to be careful where you step.”

She didn’t sound mad. In fact, he couldn’t place the tone of her voice. Not angry, not even upset. If anything she sounded rueful. Which didn’t make sense.

He headed for the back of the house and rounded the corner to head into the kitchen. He came to a stop as abruptly as if he’d run into a wall. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the disaster that was his state-of-the-art kitchen.

“Josie?”

She looked up at him and shrugged her shoulders. “I want to tell you that it looks worse than it is, but it’s pretty bad. The thing is, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

She sat in the center of the kitchen floor. Her light-blue dress had several red stains on the front, and there were a couple of dark smudges on her cheek. Behind her two pots sat half on, half off the stove. The scent of something burning filled the air. A jar of spice had tipped onto the counter and trailed down to the floor. A heavy stock pot lay next to her. Water pooled around her, while limp lasagna noodles oozed toward him in a slow-moving river. Her wheelchair looked as if it had been in a food fight. It leaned precariously against the pantry cupboard.

She made a vague gesture toward the mess. “Sorry.”

He couldn’t believe it. “What were you doing?”

She gave him a sheepish smile. “Cooking. Or at least trying to. I remembered that lasagna was your favorite. I had this recipe your mom gave me years ago, so I dug it out and decided to make it. Except the counters and stove are too high and I was afraid to be on my feet too much. Things got out of control really fast. I stood a couple of times, then I lost my balance and slipped, which explains the noodles on the floor. That’s about when you walked in. So would you please help me up?”

Nothing she said made sense. She’d been cooking? For him? Why?

“Where’d you find the recipe? You couldn’t have been carrying one around with you all this time.”

“I’d tucked it into one of the cookbooks.” She pointed to an open book on the counter. “It was still there. Um, Del? I’d really like to get off the floor.”

“What? Oh, sure. Sorry.”

He moved toward her, then bent down to collect her in his arms. As he gathered her close, her hair brushed against his cheek. The soft sweep of waves smelled delightfully floral. Her body was warm and curvy, fitting perfectly against his. Suddenly he didn’t want to carry her just to a kitchen chair. Instead he wanted to make the journey to his bedroom at the end of the hall. A bedroom she’d once shared with him. He wanted to place her on the mattress and carefully undress her. Then he wanted to make love with her, touching her everywhere, kissing her, tasting her, bringing her pleasure until she was lost to everything but the feel of him against her. Until she was spent, yet still begging for more.

“Del?”

The sound of his name jerked him back to reality. He realized he was crouched on the floor, cradling Josie against himself.

“Not that this isn’t comfy,” she teased. “But I think I’ll do better in my chair.”

“Let me clean it up first,” he said, rising to his feet.

He moved her to the kitchen table and got her settled. Then he retrieved her wheelchair and began to wipe off the various spills. His body heated with excitement, which he tried to ignore. He didn’t dare look at her or face her. Not only would she be able to read the truth in his eyes-she would see it physically manifested in other parts of him.

Could she make love, he wondered as he wiped the metal frame clean, then brushed off the seat. Were there limitations because of her accident? Would the act itself hurt her? He thought about pressing himself on top of her and didn’t know if that would be too much for her healing body. There was no polite way to ask, nor was it any of his business.

Except he found himself wanting it to be. He wanted to know if she’d been thinking about him in the same way. Had she been as caught up in the possibilities?

Behind him, he heard her clear her throat.

“I’ve been an idiot,” she said quietly. “I moved in here without giving the situation a second thought. I didn’t realize I was cramping your style.”

Arousal or not, that made him turn to face her. “What are you talking about?”

She held up her hands in front of her, palms up. “Isn’t it obvious? You know that Jasmine stopped by today. I should have realized you were involved with someone.” She dropped her chin slightly and stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to be thoughtless. I’m sorry.”

He pushed the wheelchair out of the way and crossed to the kitchen table. When he was in front of her, he reached into his right-front pocket and pulled out a single key.

“You’re not cramping my style,” he said, setting the key on the table. “I was seeing Jasmine, but things have been winding down for a while. After she came here, she dropped into the office.” He remembered the younger woman’s outrage and cruelty. “Let’s just say we decided it would better if we didn’t see each other anymore.”

Josie touched the key. “I don’t think it was that simple. I feel bad for messing up your life.”

He dropped to a crouch in front of her. “Do you really think that’s what happened? If she’d been that important to me I wouldn’t have invited you to stay here. You know me well enough to trust my word on that.”

She raised her gaze until it met his. He saw questions in her blue eyes. Questions and a desire to believe him.

“You sure?” she asked.

“I swear.”

“Okay. Then I’ll believe you.”

“Thanks.” He lightly touched the back of her left hand. “I’m sorry she stopped by. It never occurred to me she would show up here or I would have gotten my key back before. I know you weren’t prepared for her visit.”

Josie gave him a smile. “Oh, let’s just say we startled each other. While it wasn’t a genuine cat fight, we each showed a little fang and claw.”

“Did you kick her butt?” His tone was teasing.

She shrugged. “I tried. I think the altercation was a draw.”

He wanted to ask more. He wanted to know if she was really okay or if Jasmine had hurt her feelings. But he didn’t know what words to use without making it into a bigger deal than it was. He also didn’t want to embarrass Josie.

“Want me to get Annie May to beat her up for you?” he asked.

Josie rewarded his joke with a chuckle. “Oh, sure. Send an old woman to do your dirty work.”

“I don’t know who else to ask. My mom’s out of town.” Which reminded him.

He straightened, then moved to the chair next to hers. “I spoke to my mom today,” he said. “I mentioned you’d bought the old Miller place and were having it remodeled.”

“Really?” Josie looked wary, and Del couldn’t blame her. “Did you happen to tell her that I was staying with you?”

He nodded.

She swallowed. “Great. I can’t even begin to imagine what she said.”

“Actually she surprised me by saying she was sorry about how she’d interfered with our marriage.”

“What?” Josie stared at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted wings. “She apologized? This would be your mother, Catherine the perfect?”

“That’s her. She said she knew that she did you a disservice by spoiling me while I was growing up. She said it gave me unrealistic expectations. Not that I agree with her, of course.”

Josie dismissed him with a wave. “You wouldn’t. You live to be served.”

“Well, I don’t live for it, but I don’t mind it when it happens.” He let the humor fade from his voice. “She also said she felt guilty about how she’d secretly been glad that you weren’t as domestic as her. She didn’t want to have to compete.”

Josie stared at him. “She really said all that?”

“Yes. She liked you a lot. I guess she’s sorry things didn’t work out.”

She looked as if she was about to say something, then didn’t. Del wanted to hear her say, “Me, too,” as if she was sorry the marriage had ended. Which didn’t make sense. They’d been divorced for three years. Their relationship was finished. Which didn’t explain why he desperately wanted to kiss her. His most recent attempt had ended with the revelation of her true identity. He wondered what would happen if he tried it again.