Wife in Disguise

guy’s that awful, you don’t invite him home.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

He looked at her. “How long has it been since you were on a date?”

His question made her feel self-conscious. She smoothed the skirt of her dress and cleared her throat. “Yes, well, after the accident, my social life wasn’t as full as it had been before.” Which was almost true. She’d barely dated anyone since her divorce. The accident had forced her to go from a couple of dates a year to none. Not a huge difference. But Del didn’t have to know that. “There was the male nurse who brought me ice cream that one time, but I don’t think that counts.”

He returned his attention to the sample book and began flipping pages. “Then you’re going to need a refresher course. Rule number one-no strangers in the house. Get to know the guy before you invite him over.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, figuring there was no point in telling him that the odds of her dating anytime soon were unlikely. For one thing, she was back in town because she wanted closure with Del-not because she was looking to get involved. Second, she couldn’t imagine a man being interested in her and asking her out. Not with her cane, her limp and her scars.

“What about this one?”

He pointed at a sample of ivory paper with a half-inch wide gold stripe bracketed by a burgundy pinstripe. The paper was elegant and very attractive. Josie looked at him in surprise.

“That’s nice.”

“You sound shocked.”

“Of course. You said all your taste was in your mouth.”

He surprised her even more by lightly touching her cheek.

“I lied,” he said, handing her the book and getting to his feet. “I have pretty good taste. Some of it is innate, some I learned from my mom and my ex-wife. But before you go wild on wallpaper, we need to talk about paint.”

He crossed to the far side of the room and picked up several wide rings holding dozens of paint samples. Josie was vaguely aware of the fit of his jeans, but she was also conscious of the fact that this was the first time he’d mentioned being married before. She wanted to stop him and ask him what he thought of her…of his ex-wife. Did he remember their time together with anything but annoyance? Did he have regrets, like she did?

But before she could form the question, he was back at her side, handing her several paint samples. “My suggestion is that you take advantage of the rooms that have afternoon light. Go for the warmer tones, because the sunlight has a golden cast in the afternoon. Especially during the summer. Something about being by the beach. I don’t know the physical reasons for it, but I know it exists.”

“I appreciate the input.”

They flipped through the samples together and picked out colors for the dining room and kitchen. Del was knowledgeable and easy to get along with. He made suggestions but didn’t push. Josie was surprised. What she remembered about him was that he was determined to have his way and she was just as determined to be the victor. What had changed? Had each of them grown up in their time apart or was it just her? Had she simply assumed Del wanted his way and reacted accordingly without bothering to find out the truth?

There was no way to get an answer to that question. Not without having a conversation she wasn’t ready for. Confessing the truth about herself was something she was going to have to do pretty soon, although she knew she would put it off as long as reasonably possible. She liked her new relationship with Del. It was fun and easy. He liked her. When they were married he hadn’t liked her much at all.

A knock on the open front door caught their attention. Del rose and walked over to greet two men standing in the foyer. One held a clipboard.

“We’re here to deliver some furniture.”

“My bedroom set,” Josie said.

Del nodded. “This is the place. Let me show you where it goes.”

He and the man with the clipboard climbed the stairs. The day before, Josie and Del had discussed the layout of her new bedroom. The room had been patched and painted. There was a new window in place, complete with a window shade. She would worry about curtains later. The small guest bath was finished, as well. She leaned on her cane and slowly pushed herself to her feet so she was standing when Del came down the stairs a few minutes later.

“Looks like everything is going to fit,” he said. “There’s plenty of room. They’ll put the furniture together and then you can go up and inspect their work.”

“Maybe I should start climbing the stairs now so I can be at the top when they finish.” She said the words matter-of-factly. She wasn’t feeling sorry for herself, she was simply stating the truth.

“I think you can probably wait twenty minutes or so,” he teased in reply. “Or I can carry you again.” He gave her a quick wink. “I like carrying pretty young women upstairs. It makes me feel macho.”

He was flirting with her. Josie didn’t know what to make of that. She felt herself blushing, which was crazy. She never blushed. “I, um…Thanks, but I think I’ll make it under my own steam, such as it is.”

“If you’re sure. But my services are available to you whenever you would like. Just say the word.” He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “It’s the dresses. Too many women wear jeans. I’m a sucker for a woman in a soft kind of floaty dress, like you wear all the time. I can’t resist.”

His words made her start to melt inside. At the same time she felt a swift stab of pain. She’d never been a dress person before. Jeans and sweats had allowed her to move the way she liked. Or shorts. Before the accident she’d been more concerned with being active than being feminine.

“I’m glad you approve,” she said shyly. “Probably reminds you of your mother.”

As soon as the words fell out of her mouth, she wanted to call them back. Catherine Scott was the sort of woman who wore dresses rather than slacks. It had been just one of dozens of differences between the women.

Del frowned. “How’d you know?”

“Good guess. A lot of moms are like that.”

She shrugged hoping he would accept her answer. She didn’t want to get into a conversation about his mother. Catherine had been a devoted homemaker and a brilliant cook. A couple more places where Josie hadn’t been able to measure up.

Del touched her arm. Just a light brush of his fingers, but against her bare skin it was highly erotic. She felt herself swaying toward him.

“I’ll admit that my mom wears dresses, but despite that, you don’t make me think of her at all. Just so we’re clear on that.”

“Okay.” She shifted awkwardly, not sure if she should say anything else.

Male appreciation flashed in his eyes. Male appreciation and something she wanted to think was sexual interest. She was both thrilled and cautious. He couldn’t be interested in her in that way, could he? Yes, they got along and conversation was easy between them, but being naked was something completely different. Besides, he was still supposed to be pining for, well, her.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” he said. “Kitchen cabinets are calling to me. You have my pager number if you need to get in touch with me, right?”

She nodded.

He left and some of the light seemed to go out of the room. Josie returned to the sofa and slumped onto a lumpy cushion. She was playing a dangerous game. If Del was really starting to like her as Rose, he wasn’t going to be happy to find out she’d been lying to him. Which meant she should probably tell him the truth as soon as possible. But she didn’t want to. But she had to.

She sighed. All right. She’d do it the next time she saw him. No matter what, she would explain who she was and why she’d returned. He would understand…eventually. She would explain everything until things were all right between them again. And then they would decide what they each wanted from the other. Which meant that between now and then she had to figure that out for herself.

By five-thirty that afternoon, everyone was gone. Josie stood alone in the nearly empty house and listened to the silence. The sharp smell of paint blended with the homey scent of cut wood. She felt a little lost and lonely, but it was still better than being in a hotel-or worse, a hospital.

After the crew had left, she’d brought in her suitcases. She had four small ones, because they were more