“There,” she’d said, in a shaky whisper, and she’d pointed an equally shaky hand toward the tub.
“Where?” Chase had responded. All he saw was the porcelain tub, the bath mat, the gleaming white tile...
And the spider.
It was big, as spiders went. Definitely the large, economy size. And it was hairy. But it was only a spider, for God’s sake, and in the time it had taken him to get from the bedroom to Annie, he’d died a thousand deaths, imagining what might have happened to her.
So he’d reacted the only way he could, scooping the spider up with a towel, marching to the back door, dumping the thing into the sandy grass and then returning to his wife, slapping his hands on his hips and asking her what in hell was wrong with her, to shriek like a banshee because she saw some little spider that was probably more afraid of her than she was of it.
Annie had slapped her hands on her hips, too, and matched his angry glower with one of her own.
“That’s it,” she’d said, “take the spider’s side instead of mine!”
“Are you nuts? I’m not taking—”
“You just think how you’d feel, if you’d come in here, turned on the light and found that—that thing waiting for you!”
“It wasn’t ‘waiting’ for you. It was minding its own business.”
“It was waiting for me,” Annie had insisted, “tapping its eight trillion feet and waiting for—”
Chase had snorted. “Eight trillion feet?” he’d said, choking back his laughter, and suddenly Annie had started to laugh, too, and the next thing he’d known, his wife was in his arms.
“I know it’s dumb,” she’d said, laughing and crying at the same time, “but I’m scared of spiders. Especially big ones.”
“Big?” Chase had said, cupping her face in his hands and smiling into her eyes. “Hey, that thing was big enough to eat Chicago.” He’d stopped smiling then, and told her what was in his heart, that his anger had only been a cover-up for the fear he’d felt when he’d heard her scream, that if he ever lost her—that if he ever lost her, his life would have no meaning...
“Hi.”
He swung around. Annie was standing in the doorway, smiling, and only force of will kept him from going to her, taking her in his arms, and telling her that—telling her that...
“Sorry I took so long, but I lost track of the time.”
Chase expelled his breath and looked away from her.
“Were you gone long?” he said, with a casualness he didn’t feel. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“I walked through the woods.” Annie came closer, peered over his shoulder at the potatoes and onions and picked up a paring knife. “This is some beautiful place. I hate to think of it overrun with guys in three-piece suits.”
Chase forced a smile to his lips. “They won’t wear three-piece suits when they come here. They’ll wear plaid Bermudas, black socks and wing tips.”
Annie laughed, picked up a potato and began peeling it. “Same difference.” They worked in silence for a few minutes, and then she spoke again. “I saw an interesting spider on the deck.”
Chase looked up. “That’s strange. I was just thinking about... Did you say, ‘interesting’?”
“Uh-huh. It was...” She hesitated. “It was big. You know. Impressive.”
“Impressive, huh? And you didn’t scream? Seems to me I can remember the days when creepy crawlies weren’t exactly your favorite creatures.”
Annie blew an errant curl off her forehead. “They still aren’t. But I took this course last year...”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“It was about insects,” she said with dignity.
That did surprise him. “You? Taking a course about bugs?”
Annie flushed. “Well, why not? I figured it was stupid to be scared of things with more than four legs. I decided, maybe if I understood them better, I might not jump at the sight of an ant.”
“And?”
She shot him a sideways look and an embarrassed smile. “And, I learned to respect creepy crawlies like crazy. There are a heck of a lot more of them than there are of us, and they’ve been here longer.”
Chase nodded. “I can almost hear the ‘but’ that’s coming.”
She laughed and reached for another potato. “But, I’m still not in the mood for a one-to-one relationship with anything that needs eight legs to cross a room.”
Chase grinned. “It’s nice to know that some things never change.”
Annie’s smile dimmed. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
They worked in silence for a couple of minutes, Annie peeling potatoes, Chase slicing onions, and then Chase spoke.
“Annie?”
“Mmm?”
“I, ah, I wanted to tell you... I just hope you know...” He swallowed. “I didn’t mean what I said before. About you taking all those courses to take digs at me, I mean.”
Annie felt her cheeks redden. “That’s okay.”
“No. It’s not okay. I know you enjoy learning all that stuff. The poetry, the art... It’s just not my thing. Heck, if I’d had to take anything but the minimum liberal arts stuff to get my engineering degree, I’d never have managed. I’d probably still be digging ditches for a living.”
Annie smiled and shook her head. “You know that’s not true.” She glanced at him, then put all her concentration on the potato she was peeling. “Anyway, maybe—maybe there was some truth to what you said. I mean, I didn’t pick those things to study because I thought they’d, you know, be about stuff you wouldn’t enjoy. I do like poetry, and art, and all the rest.” She bent her head so that her hair fell around her face, shielding it from his view. “But I have to admit, when you looked puzzled about some eighteenth century poet, well, it made me feel good.” She looked up suddenly, her eyes bright and shiny. “Not because I felt smarter or anything but because—because it was a way of proving that I could hold my own, you know? That even though I was only a housewife, that didn’t mean I was—”
“Only a housewife?”
Annie shrugged as she dumped the potato on the counter and reached for another.
“That’s what I was.”
“Only a housewife,” he said, and laughed. “That’s a hell of a description for the woman who kept our home running smoothly, who raised our child, who entertained all the clowns I had to butter up while I was trying to get Cooper Construction moving.”
“I guess I wasted an awful lot of time in self-pity.”
“That’s not what I meant. If anybody wasted time, babe, it was me. I should have told you how proud I was of all the things you did. But I was too busy patting myself on the back, congratulating myself for building Cooper Construction into something bigger than my father had ever dreamed. Something that would...”
Something that would make you proud of me, he’d almost said, but he stopped himself just in time. It was too late to talk about that now.
“Well, what’s the difference?” he said briskly. “It’s all water under the bridge.” He concentrated on slicing the onions, and then he cleared his throat. “At least now I know that you didn’t take all those classes just to get away from me.”
“You weren’t home often enough for me to worry about getting away from you,” Annie said, a little stiffly.
“You could have had your degree by now,” he said, wisely deciding it was the better part of valor to avoid a minefield than to attempt to cross it. “If you’d taken a concentration in one area, I mean.”
“I don’t need it.” Annie peeled the last potato, put down her knife and wiped her hands on a towel. “All those horticulture courses paid off.” A note of pride crept into her voice. “Flowers by Annie is a success, Chase. I’ve had to hire more people, and I’m thinking of maybe trying my hand at landscape design.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“The truth is, I don’t think I ever really wanted a degree. The thought of taking a bunch of formal classes didn’t have any appeal. I just
figured, well, I’d improve myself a little. Learn some stuff. You know.”
“You didn’t need improving,” Chase said. He knew he sounded angry, but he couldn’t help it. The only thing he didn’t know was whether he was angry at Annie or himself. Improve herself? His Annie?
“I did. I just had this high school education...”
Chase dropped his paring knife, clasped her shoulders and turned her to face him.
“You were the valedictorian of your graduating class, dammit! The only reason you didn’t go to college was because we got married, right after you graduated high school.”
“I know. But—”
“We talked about it, remember? We tried to figure out if we could both go to college and still get married, and we decided we’d never be able to afford that.” His mouth twisted. “So I went. You didn’t. You took those miserable jobs, flipping hamburgers—”
“First, I flipped fish filets,” Annie said with a shaky smile. “And then french fries. Hamburgers were a step up.”
“Dammit, Annie, you gave up what you could have had, for me. Don’t you think I know it?”
“I gave up nothing. I wanted to do it.”
“Whatever we had—whatever I have, today—I owe to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Chase. You never did. Don’t you understand?” Annie took a deep breath. “I didn’t want a college degree half as much as I wanted to marry you.”
“Yes.” Chase’s voice roughened. His hands slid up her throat and he buried them in her hair as he tilted her face to his. “That was all I could think of, too. Marrying you. Making you mine. So I did the selfish thing.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did, dammit!” His eyes searched her face, his gaze brushing her mouth before lifting again. “I let you give up your hopes and dreams so that I could have my dream.”
“It was important to you. Becoming an engineer, making a success of yourself....”
“My dream was to have you. Only you. And, once I did, to give you the things you’d missed out on when we first got married, because you’d had to make so many sacrifices.”
“They weren’t sacrifices,” Annie said, as the tears rose in her eyes. “I loved you, Chase. I wanted to help you succeed.”
“And I only wanted to make you proud of me.”
They fell silent.
If only I’d known, Annie thought...
If only I’d understood, Chase thought...
Was it too late? he wondered. Could you turn back the years? Could that be something this beautiful, confident woman in his arms might even want to do? She’d turned into someone else, his Annie, a stranger with a life of her own.
Was it too late? Annie wondered. Was it possible to roll back time? They were two different people now, she and this handsome, wonderful man who had once been her husband. He had moved into a high-powered world that was eons removed from her quiet country life.
And then, there was Janet Pendleton. The woman Chase was engaged to marry. The woman he loved.
Tears stung Annie’s eyes. What an idiot she was! How could she have forgotten? They’d moved on, the both of them, and Chase had found someone to replace her, in his heart and in his life.
She swallowed hard. Chase was looking at her so strangely. Oh, how tempting it was to let herself believe, just for an instant, for a heartbeat, that he still loved her. But she knew that he didn’t. What she saw in his eyes was regret for the pain they’d caused each other, and compassion—but not love.
Not anymore.
“Annie.” His voice was soft, almost tender. “Annie,” he said, “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said quickly. Compassion was one thing, but pity was another. Pity was the last thing she wanted from Chase. “There’s no point. It’s spilt milk, you know?” It wasn’t easy, but she smiled. “And nobody should ever waste tears over spilt milk.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“But it is.” Annie spoke quickly, rushing her words, hurrying to keep him from offering her another apology. What she wanted from him, needed with all her heart, was something she wouldn’t think about, wouldn’t admit to thinking about, even to herself. “It’s very simple,” she said, with another little smile. “It looks as if us spending time together was a good idea, after all.”
“Yes. I agree.”
“If we hadn’t, we’d never have gotten this chance to—to make peace with the past.”
“Can you forgive me, for hurting you?”
“Of course.” It was easier to smile, now that she knew it was the only choice left to her. “As long as you can forgive me, too, because I wasn’t blameless. And then, we get on with our lives. With—with our new relationships.”
The tiny flame of hope in Chase’s heart flickered and died.
“Milton Hoffman.” His voice was toneless.
“And your Janet Pendleton. Yes.”
Chase could see the radiance in Annie’s smile. It lit her eyes. Funny, but a couple of minutes ago, he’d foolishly let himself think the light in her eyes was for him.
“We’re very fortunate people,” she said softly. “Some never find love once but we—we found it twice.”
Chase stared at the stranger who had once been his wife. He thought of pulling her into his embrace and kissing her until that smile for Milton Hoffman was erased from her lips. He thought of kissing her until all she could think of was him.
But, in the end, he did what he knew was right.
“That’s true,” he said, touching his hand to her hair, because he couldn’t keep from doing it. He kept the touch light, though, so that it matched his smile. “We’re very lucky, the both of us.”
He let go of her, turned away and reached blindly for a peeled onion. Annie watched, her heart breaking, as he sliced into it. She felt the sting of tears again and she scrubbed the back of her hand furiously over her eyes.
“Damned onions,” she said, with a choked laugh. “You’re slicing them but I’m suffering. Isn’t that silly?”
Chase, lost in his own thoughts, nodded. “Yeah.”
“So,” she said briskly, “what are we having for supper, anyway? Onion and potato pie?”
Somehow, he forced his attention back to the kitchen, and the mundane chores they were performing. He smiled, put down the knife, wiped his hands on the towel and opened the door of the cabinet just over the sink.
“Voilà,” he said, whipping around to face Annie and holding out a small, round can as if he were a sommelier presenting her with a bottle of fine wine.
“Tuna? That’s it? That’s all you could find in this kitchen?”
“There’s another half a dozen, right on the pantry shelf.”
“I don’t believe it. All this, and Mr. Tanaka eats canned tuna?”
“I don’t think sushi would have much of a shelf life.” Chase grinned. “Less than thrilling, huh?”
“You’re sure there isn’t anything else?”
“A couple of cans of evaporated milk. A bottle of corn oil. Some soup—”
“Cream of mushroom?” she asked hopefully.
“Yeah. I think so.”
Annie sighed. “Get me the soup and the evaporated milk, Cooper. Then step aside and let an expert get to work.”
“You mean, you can do something clever with this stuff?”
“I can try.”
Chase grinned as he plucked the other cans from the shelves, opened them and put them on the counter.
“I should have known. I’d almost forgotten how inventive you were with Spam, the first couple of years after we were married.”
“Inventive?” Annie said, as she drained the tuna into the sink.
“Sure. Seems to me I can remember Spam casserole, sautéed Spam, grilled Spam...”
“A can of Spam, a couple of onions and some potatoes.”
“Which recipe was that?”
“All of them,” Annie said, laughing. She dug around in the shelves beneath the stove,
took out a skillet and put it on a burner. “I kept giving the same concoction different names, to keep us from going whacko.”
“Now she tells me. So, what’s on the menu tonight?”
“How about Tuna Surprise?”
“What’s the Surprise?”
“Managing to turn this mess into something edible,” Annie said, and laughed. “Here. Start dicing the potatoes. I’ll heat up some oil and slice the rest of the onions.”
“Suppose you supervise while I do the work. It’s my fault we’re stuck out here, in the tail end of nowhere, so it’s only fair I get to make dinner.”
“Let’s face it, Cooper. We’re trapped in a place most people would kill for, so stop apologizing and start dicing.”
Annie splashed some oil into the skillet, then leaned past Chase and placed it on the burner. Her breast brushed lightly across his arm, and he felt himself harden like stone. Desire, an overpowering need for her, for Annie, the mother of his child and the passion of his youth, surged through his blood, pumping hard and hot, and pooled low in his belly.
He jerked away. As he did, his elbow knocked against the knife and it clattered to the floor.
“Damn,” he said, as if it mattered, as if anything mattered but wanting to take his wife in his arms.
Milton Hoffman’s face, the face of the man she loved, rose before him as if it were an apparition. Hoffman, who couldn’t love Annie as much as he did because, dammit, he did love her. Not again, but still. He’d never stopped loving her, and it was time to admit it.
“Annie,” he said in a low voice.
Annie looked up. The temperature in the kitchen felt as if it had gone up ten degrees.
The message was there, in Chase’s eyes. Her heart leaped in her chest. She told herself not to be a fool. What was happening here wasn’t real. Reality was the papers that had legally severed their marriage. It was a woman named Janet, waiting for Chase back in New York.
On the other hand, hadn’t some philosopher said reality was what you made of it?
“Annie?” Chase whispered. He reached toward her and she swayed forward, her eyes half-closed...
The smell of burning oil filled the kitchen.
Annie swung around, grabbed the skillet and dumped it into the sink.
The Millionaire Claims His Wife Page 12
