“What now, Shelby?”
“I—” She took two steps into the room, close enough he could smell her designer perfume and the hotel-provided shampoo. “I can’t sleep.”
“That makes two of us.” He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud.
He held his breath as she came nearer, finally perching on the edge of the bed. Memories swamped him, those first days living in the garage apartment. Too bad it wasn’t livable still, he could have moved out there and let her take over the house until she was tired of this game. As it was now, he’d have to see it through till the end.
Having her this close was torture. He only had to reach out and he could touch her, smooth her hair back from her face, run his fingers down her cheek. How many nights had he prayed to have her back? To have one more chance with her? “I was wondering—” she started.
This wasn’t a second chance. Once he signed those papers, she’d be gone in a flash. This was only a delay of game.
“If you wanted to—” She reached out, laid her hand on his arm, the warmth of her fingers burning him with desire.
Just sign, his rational side demanded. Sign and get it over with. Postponing the inevitable wasn’t productive. She wanted a life without him; there wasn’t much he could do to change that.
“—play cards or something.”
Or something came to mind. “Go to bed, Shelby.” He turned away, flopping onto his opposite side and willing his breathing to normal, steady and even. He couldn’t let her know how her presence affected him.
A heartbeat later he felt the side of the bed sag under her weight.
“What the hell?”
She hoisted herself over him, straddling him for the merest of moments before pushing herself to the other side of the bed.
He could only stare as she wriggled under the covers, burrowing down and making herself totally comfortable. She heaved a contented sigh then closed her eyes.
“Uh, Shelby?”
“Mm-hmmm.”
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping, silly.”
If she called him silly one more time he was going to toss her out on her pretty behind.
“This is my bed.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You are sleeping in the guest room.”
“It’s lonely in there.”
“Too bad.”
“Plus Clyde is taking up all the room.”
Yay for Clyde. Ritt knew the hound was smart, but he’d never pegged him for desperate.
“It seems silly for me to sleep in there. I mean, we are married.”
Bingo. That’s what this was all about. Of course. She wanted the papers signed, and she was willing to do whatever it took to get his signature. Even if it meant invading his bed.
Not going to work, sister. He’d sign ‘em when he was good and damn ready.
He wasn’t going to be chased out of his bed in the middle of the night by his wife.
He cautiously turned to his other side, careful not to brush against her in the move.
And he’d thought having her in the other room was torture. Next to him he could hear her breathing, feel her warmth, inhale the sweet scent of woman.
Hell. That was the word. Lying next to her was hell.
She murmured in her sleep, the unintelligible syllables smooth like butter against this libido.
He couldn’t take this. Not one second more.
With a growl of frustration and a curse under his breath, he threw back the covers and marched into the living room.
Clyde lifted his head when Ritt stomped in. So much for not letting her chase him from his bed. But he couldn’t sleep with his wife, and he couldn’t very well sleep in his parents’ room. She’d already contaminated the sheets with her alluring scent. That left the twin beds in Kyle’s room or the sofa. Well, he’d just as soon take his chances with Clyde.
Ritt pushed the lethargic dog to the end of the sofa. Sharing the couch with the hound would be a damned sight easier than sharing the bed with his wife.
Ritt settled down next to his dog and prayed for the morning to come quickly.
The smell of burnt woke him. Well, that and the sound of every skillet in the house being banged together.
Ritt resisted the urge to cover his head with the lace-trimmed throw pillow and instead opened one eye to survey the damage to his kitchen. From his vantage point, he could only see Shelby from the side. She was wearing a pair of jeans, obviously new judging from their dark look, a peach colored T-shirt and that damned floral apron from last night.
That same apron had a starring role in his dreams, covering his naked wife who fed him cupcakes while the dog watched and waited for crumbs. He sat up and scratched Clyde behind the ears in apology.
“You’re awake.” A smile stretched across her face, and Ritt forgot to breathe. Could it be that she was even more beautiful today than she had been when she’d stomped on his heart and left town without a backward glance? Or maybe it wasn’t merely beauty, but that mature look of confidence that sucked him in like a vortex.
That was it. Her hair was the same, dark chocolate brown, her limbs long and tanned. She still had those killer gray eyes and a smile that could launch ships, even white teeth and that slight indentation in her chin.
But she carried herself like a woman, shoulders back, head up and eyes straight ahead. She hadn’t been like that back then. The confidence was intoxicating.
“Oops!”
Ritt jumped to his feet as whatever she was cooking on the stovetop burst into flames. The smoke alarm blared an ear-splitting screech as Clyde let out a howl.
“Oh. My. God.” Shelby waved at the small fire with a dishtowel only fanning the flames.
Ritt grabbed the fire extinguisher from under the sink and in seconds the fire was out, the stove, frying pan and its contents coated in frothy white foam.
One good whack with the broom and the smoke detector was silenced.
The hound continued his mournful song.
“Clyde. Clyde!”
The dog stopped yowling and studied them with his sad, basset eyes.
“Enough.” Ritt glared at the animal.
Clyde dropped to his belly and laid his chin on his paws.
“Wow. Thanks, Ritt.”
He rounded on his wife. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She blinked, then took a step back as if he were about to pounce on her.
Truth was, he might. But not in a good way. It was one thing to have her barge back into his life and another to have her setting fire to his kitchen.
“I only wanted to cook you some breakfast.”
“Don’t.”
“But—” Tears welled in her eyes, and Ritt immediately regretted his tone of voice. Whatever plan she had up her sleeve, fire wasn’t part of it. “Isn’t that what you wanted? A chance?”
“What are you talking about?”
She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand, smearing her mascara under her eyes. The look should have been ugly, but it made them appear bigger, smoky gray. “Yesterday in Craig’s office. You said I never gave us a chance.”
So that’s what this was about. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”
“We can’t go back in time.”
He snorted. If only he could…
“Why are you so angry, Ritt?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She pushed herself onto one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen island and propped her heels on the top rung. “No.”
This was not the conversation he wanted to have at eight in the morning. Come to think of it, he didn’t want to have the conversation at all.
He heaved a sigh and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “It was the money, Shel.”
She blinked. Then she blinked again as if trying to process his words. “What are you talking about?”
Did she really want to play it like this? All innocence an
d big eyes. “The money my parents gave your mother to take you away.”
He had to hand it to her, the look of disbelief could have won an Oscar. But it only made him madder.
“What money?”
“This has gone on long enough, Shelby. I’m going to take a shower, and when I come back, I expect this mess to be cleaned up.”
He turned on his heel and stalked down the hallway, her look of incomprehension trailing behind him.
Shelby watched his tight rear disappear down the hall. The sight of it was almost enough to make her forget his words. But not quite.
What money? There was no money. Her mother told her that if they left, Ritt would be able to reclaim his scholarship and go to school that fall. Shelby had agreed to go because she loved him enough to want that for him. She loved watching him play baseball. Loved the light in his eyes when he caught sight of the diamond. Baseball meant everything to him, and she didn’t want to be the one who took it all away.
She rinsed out the dishrag and attacked the mess on the stove. At the rate she was going, he would kick her out by nightfall and without signed divorce papers—the one thing she needed most.
She was almost done with cleanup when Ritt sauntered back into the kitchen. His wet hair was nearly brown, the ends curling softly against his neck. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, which seemed to be his standard fair, this one a tribute to the city of Austin.
He opened the fridge, rummaging around until he found an egg and cold piece of sausage.
She bit her lip, watching as he cracked the egg against the counter top and peeled the shell onto a paper towel.
“What money are you talking about?” she asked.
He sprinkled salt on the boiled egg and took a bite. “Really? You’re going to play dumb?”
“I’m not playing.” That didn’t come out exactly as she’d planned. “I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He sighed and retrieved a half-gallon jug of orange juice from the fridge. She tried not to cringe as he drank from the container. He was just trying to make her crazy. “The money my parents…” he said slowly as if that would somehow help her to understand, “…gave your mother.” Another long pause. “To take you to California.”
“There was no money.”
“I’m done with this conversation, Shelby. When I get home, I expect your things gone.”
“You can’t accuse my mother of bribery, and then just…leave.”
“I’m not accusing your mother of anything. She was the bribe-ee.”
Shelby crossed her arms over her midriff. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I’m sorry; I don’t know what you call someone who takes a bribe.”
“My mother would never do that.” But even as she said the words, Shelby thought back to those few weeks after the miscarriage. Her hormones had been all wacky, dropping so quickly when there was no longer a baby to support. She had never questioned what her mother had said, that she had met someone from California.
“The money came from my mother’s boyfriend.”
“The one she went to California to meet, but never materialized.”
That was the one. Shelby shook back her hair, not wanting to accept the truth. “That can’t be it.”
Ritt strolled to the living room desk and plucked the cordless phone from the charger. “Call her.”
“What?”
“Call your mom and ask her.”
“But—”
“You don’t want to know the truth?”
Shelby’s stomach cramped painfully. Most probably from eating her own cooking and not from dread. She took the phone. “Fine. I’ll call. But when she tells me there was no money, you owe me an apology. And you have to sign the papers.”
“She tells you there was no money, then she’s a liar.”
Shelby decided not to respond. Arguing with Ritt was a useless endeavor. Instead, she dialed her mother’s number and tried not to look too smug as she listened to the ring on the other end. Finally the voicemail picked up. “Mom. Hey, I’m here with Ritt, and he’s saying that his parents paid you to take me to California. I need you to call me back at this number and tell me that it’s not true, ‘kay? Thanks. Love you.”
“How very unbiased of you.” Ritt picked up a piece of the charred bacon and turned it over as if it would be edible upon closer examination.
Shelby shrugged. “What do you care?”
Ritt tossed the bacon in the trash. “Come on, baker. Let’s go get some breakfast.”
Typical Ritt, he took her to breakfast at Cindy’s Donut Shop. Shelby was sure she gained ten pounds by just walking in the door. How many times had she and Ritt sat in these same cracked orange booths and ate donut holes until they were about to pop? Too many to count. The crisp fall days before school, the blistering summer days before heading out to fish or work or play around the canyon.
Shelby tamped down those memories and did her best not to keep a running tally of carb intake as Ritt ordered a box of donut holes, two coffees and chocolate milk. How did he stay so…fit and eat like this?
One more day, she told herself as she bit into the fattening confection. Her mother would call back today, tonight at the latest. Once she told Ritt that his parents had not paid her to take Shelby to California, he’d have no reason not to sign the papers, and Shelby would be on her way back home.
“Shelby?”
She turned as a dark-haired pixie approached. Same red lipstick and amber-colored eyes. She’d have known her anywhere. “Delilah?”
Shelby stood and gave her longtime friend a one-armed hug.
“Craig told me he saw you. I was so excited. Please tell me you’ll be here for the wedding.”
Shelby bit her lip. She’d missed so much work already. But if she was home by Monday she’d still have plenty of time to get the Riley cake done. Kathryn would be able to handle anything that came up between now and then. “Of course.” She warbled a smile.
“Goody.” Same ol’ Delilah.
Of course staying would mean another few days with Ritt, but once she got those papers signed it would be totally worth it.
“Are you still in California?”
“Yes.”
Shelby barely had time to answer before Delilah shot another question her way. “You’re not…?” She made a twirling motion between Shelby and Ritt.
“Oh, no. No.” Shelby shook her head for emphasis. “So how have you been?”
“Great. There’s the wedding and then I’ve been—you know what? There’s entirely too much we need to catch up on. I’m calling Craig right now. We all need to get together for supper tonight. Won’t that be fun?”
Shelby could think of plenty of things to call it, but fun wasn’t among them.
“You don’t have to do that—” Ritt protested, but Delilah had already connected to her fiancé. She plugged her ear with her finger and turned away as she spoke into the phone.
Ritt turned his blue-gold gaze to her. Shelby did her best to smile and not cringe. From the look on Ritt’s face she wasn’t successful. “We don’t have to—”
“I don’t like this any better than you do, but we both know we have to. They were our best friends,” she said.
“Key word ‘were’. That was a long time ago and some of us have moved on.” Somehow his words sounded like an accusation.
Before Shelby could open her mouth to retaliate, Delilah turned around, a huge smile on her pretty face. “It’s all set. We’ll meet at Craig’s tonight for dinner.”
“Great.” Ritt said the word, but Shelby knew he’d rather eat fire ants than spend any more time with her. Not that she cared. She felt the exact same way.
Craig’s turned out to be an upscale condo perfect for an up-and-coming attorney with aspirations for City Hall.
Shelby locked the door of the rental, dismayed to see Ritt’s rusty old Ford already in the lot as she made her way up the flower-lined walk. Two hours tops and she would escape and head back
to…Ritt’s house.
Staying in the same building with Ritt was proving to be harder than she had originally thought. Then again, when she imagined her plan, the final result—him signing the papers—happened after only one night of being under the same roof. But her husband was proving to be a tougher nut to crack. Why he wouldn’t sign the papers to begin with was a mystery in itself. Bitterness, she supposed, though she would have never thought Ritt one to cave to petty jealousies. And yet she couldn’t say that she wouldn’t feel the same in his shoes. He was exactly where she left him. Living in his parents’ house, driving the same broken-down truck, working part-time at the bait shop. His time for baseball was over, he evidently hadn’t gone back to further his education. He was stuck in a rut and blaming everyone else—her—for his lack of success.
Shelby raised her hand and knocked on the smooth black door.
Delilah answered within seconds as if she had been waiting on the other side for Shelby to show up.
“You made it.” Delilah took a step back to allow Shelby to enter, then gave her a quick sisterly hug. “Come in, come in. Craig’s putting the final touches on dinner. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” As much as she tried not to look in his direction, her gaze automatically slid to Ritt lounging on the couch. He had a beer balanced on one jean-clad knee. Remarkably enough, he looked as at home on the expensive black leather sofa as he did the worn-smooth floral chintz that his mother had owned since Shelby had known them.
Ritt nodded in her direction, his gaze steady on hers. Shelby felt a shiver of familiarity run down her spine. Once she had a glass of wine, she peeled her gaze away from her husband and took a long, fortifying drink.
“Did you say Craig is cooking?”
Delilah nodded. “He loves to cook. It’s like his Prozac, which is fine with me.”
Craig came out of the kitchen, wearing an apron over slacks and a loosened tie, and wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Everyone ready for a salad?”
Blame it on Texas Page 3
