Wife in Disguise

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.

“Thanks for telling me about your mom,” she said. “And I’m sorry about the mess in the kitchen.”

“Not a problem. I appreciate your attempt to make me lasagna.”

She chuckled. “I guess I should have started my cooking career with something more simple. So what do you want for takeout tonight? I was kind of thinking of Italian, if I haven’t scared you off that.”

“Sounds great.”

“I was so sure I could do this,” Josie said, later that evening when they’d finished their dinner. “Apparently lasagna is something I should wait to tackle when I’m more upright. What do you think?”

He thought she was beautiful, but didn’t think he should share that. She might not understand how he meant it. Or maybe she would know exactly what was on his mind. What would she say if she knew how much he wanted her? Would she smile at him the way she used to when she read the desire in his eyes, or would she politely, gently refuse him?

“Del?”

“Huh?”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the kitchen table. They’d spent the better part of an hour cleaning up the mess from her failed cooking project, then had ordered in pasta from a nearby restaurant. Now the remains of their meal lay in front of them.

“I was asking you if you would like me to try cooking lasagna again when I’m back on my feet.”

Her question had so little to do with what he was thinking that he had a hard time responding. “Oh, yeah. Sure. That would be great.”

She stared at him, then drew back in her chair. She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. That was really presumptuous of me.” Her voice sounded small, as if she had been hurt by something he’d said. Color crept up her face. “You’re probably thinking you’ll never get rid of me. But you will. I promise. Just as soon as I can walk, I’ll be out of here and you can have your life back.”

Her discomfort, not to mention the rush of words, got his attention. He realized that she was embarrassed, assuming he hadn’t responded because he wanted her gone. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. He also realized that three years ago he would have taken her words the wrong way. He wouldn’t have seen the defensive posture or the blush. Instead he would have gone defensive himself, figuring she was trying to be the one to leave, rather than the one left. That it was all about her, rather than them.

“Josie, I’m enjoying having you stay here,” he told her. “I’m not looking forward to having you gone, so let’s not talk about it. As for you cooking me lasagna, I would like that very much.”