But she couldn’t curl up and she couldn’t run. So she forced herself to shift so that she was sitting on the side of the bed. She put her can of soda on the nightstand.
“She sounds like quite an athlete,” she told him. “All that exercise. She must have been in great shape.”
“She was. Josie probably could have taken me if she’d tried.”
He grinned as he spoke. She tried to smile, as well.
“At least your sex life was great,” she said, thinking it was a small consolation, but at this point she was going to take whatever she could get.
Del didn’t say anything. It took her a couple of seconds to realize he seemed very interested in his soda and wasn’t responding to her statement. Her stomach dropped to her toes and every last ounce of self-worth evaporated like mist in the sun.
“Don’t tell me that was horrible, too,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
“Not horrible,” he said quickly. “It was fine. At times it was even amazing. It’s just…” His voice trailed off.
She wanted to die. Right there, sitting on the side of the bed. She wanted the world to end and take her along. She wanted to be anywhere but here, hearing anything but this. It was too much. How could he be saying the sex hadn’t been fabulous? Didn’t he remember all the things they’d done together? She’d always been open to new positions and new places. She’d been strong and limber, a combination he’d claimed to appreciate. Had he been lying?
“I’m not sure how to explain this,” he said slowly, avoiding her gaze.
She wanted to tell him not to bother, but she was afraid if she spoke, her voice would crack. Then he would want to know what was wrong, and she couldn’t think of any response to that.
“Josie was physically perfect and we had sex a lot. Most of the time it was everything a man could ask for. But sometimes it was empty.”
She blinked. “Empty? I don’t understand.”
Del shifted uncomfortably. As if he were embarrassed. “I know guys are supposed to be into quantity rather than quality, but it wasn’t like that for me. There were times I wanted to be tender and she didn’t. Josie wasn’t one to cuddle. She wasn’t into emotional connection. We had sex a lot, but we rarely made love.”
Worse and worse, she thought, too stunned to do more than keep breathing through the pain. He’d laid her bare and found her wanting in every aspect possible. For the first time in a long time, she found herself fighting tears. She who never cried. But this wound went too deep. It cut down to the very essence of her being, hurting her more than any of her surgeries. She had nothing left. She’d been an awful wife, a lousy lover and a horrible person. Why had he ever married her?
She wanted to excuse herself, but she knew she didn’t have the strength to walk away. Even her cane couldn’t help because her legs felt as if they would never support her weight again. She’d been so incredibly stupid to come back. She’d been harboring secret fantasies about her ex-husband while he’d been counting his blessings at getting rid of her.
Del watched the play of emotions across Rose’s face. She looked unnerved by what he’d said. Smooth, he thought grimly. Once again he’d blown it. Here he was with a beautiful woman, and how was he spending his time? Trashing his ex-wife. Could he be any more stupid?
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “That was insensitive and probably more information than you wanted.”
“No,” she said, her low voice a little thick. “It’s not that. I was just wondering what my ex-husband says when he talks about me.”
“I’m sure his opinion is completely different,” he assured her. “Because you’re different. I know we haven’t known each other long, Rose, but you’re nothing like my ex. You’re warm, caring, funny, gentle and very beautiful.”
She looked at him. Surprise filled her blue eyes. “You can’t mean any of that.”
“I mean every word.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then motioned to her legs. “I use a cane. I limp. There are scars everywhere. That’s not beautiful.”
Without planning the movement, he set his soda can on the floor and crossed to the bed. After sitting next to her, he turned so he could touch her face. As he stroked her cheek, he smiled.
“Can’t you see your injuries don’t matter? You are beautiful. It’s not just your face, but all of you.”
She parted her lips, but didn’t speak. They were so close. Her scent, the promise of her curves all called to him. He told himself to get away before he did something stupid. Not something he would regret, but definitely out of line for a contractor-client relationship.
But he didn’t want to stand and walk away from her. He wanted to be closer. He needed to feel her against him.
Slowly, so she would know what he was doing and have time to protest, he slipped his free hand around to rest on her back. He gently urged her forward, leaning into her at the same time. Carefully, deliberately, he lowered his mouth to hers. At the last second he paused, waiting for her to push him away.
Instead she touched his lips with hers.
She was soft and sweet, and he wanted to claim her instantly. Instead he forced himself to hold back. He kissed her gently, brushing against her tenderly. As he wrapped both his arms around her he was careful not to make any sudden movements. He knew that she spent a lot of her day in pain, and he wasn’t sure what parts of her might be tender.
He inhaled, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and floral perfume. There was another fragrance. Something subtle he couldn’t identify. It tugged at the corners of his mind in an almost familiar way. Something…
He forced the questions away. He didn’t want to think about anything but Rose. He brushed his mouth against hers, back and forth, exploring her, feeling her respond to him. Her breathing quickened. Her hands rested on his shoulders, then slid down his back. When she pulled him against her, he went willingly, wanting to feel her full breasts flatten against his chest.
With his eyes closed, his other senses sharpened. Desire grew inside of him. He lightly licked her bottom lip, testing to see if she wanted the kiss to continue. When her mouth parted for him, he felt a jolt of heat in his groin. Blood rushed south, making him uncomfortably aware of his need.
He slipped his tongue between her lips. As he did, he found his hands moving up and down her back in a way that was almost familiar. One of her hands moved up until her fingers tunneled through his hair. There was a rhythm to their movements. A familiar rhythm. Although he knew he was kissing Rose he was suddenly reminded of Josie.
Damn. Del opened his eyes to orient himself. He was with Rose. He was in her bedroom, kissing her. What the hell was Josie doing in his head?
He deepened the kiss in an effort to chase his ex-wife from his mind. In the three years she’d been gone, he’d never once thought of her while kissing another woman. But he was thinking of her now.
Rose, he told himself. Only Rose. The bodies were completely different. Rose was all curves—full breasts and hips. Her face, her hair, all of her. Rose.
Josie.
The thought intruded, breaking his concentration. Suddenly it was Josie’s taste, her scent, filling his mind. He broke the kiss and stumbled to his feet. Rose opened her eyes and looked at him. Those eyes. So blue. So much like Josie’s.
Anger and confusion filled him. Nothing made sense. He stared down at the woman in front of him, taking in her long, blond hair, her full, suddenly familiar mouth.
“Who are you?” he growled. “Who the hell are you?”
Chapter Eight
The question echoed in Josie’s ears. Who are you?
She heard the words, understood their meaning, but she couldn’t speak. She was too stunned by the shock she felt from the impact of Del’s kiss. Too overwhelmed by passion, the past and her own realization that nothing was as she’d thought it would be.
She’d known Del was going to kiss her, even before he’d gathered her close and pressed his mouth to hers
. Even through her pain at his latest revelation about their failed marriage, she’d recognized the light of need in his eyes, the desire and wanting in his expression. She’d allowed him to pull her against him because she’d needed something to ease her pain.
She’d thought that kissing him might help to make her feel better. She’d also thought it might be nice to know if there was still some passion between them. She’d expected to enjoy the contact, but she hadn’t thought she would be swept away. Nor had she expected to find an unwelcome truth.
He repeated his question and she tried to answer. But she couldn’t speak. She was too caught up in what she’d learned. She hadn’t come back to Beachside Bay because she wanted closure. She’d come back because when she’d thought she was dying, Del was the one person she’d been thinking about. She’d come back because she was still in love with him.
The implications of that—being in love with a man who regretted every second of their marriage—nearly overwhelmed her. Her legs began to tremble as a great weakness swept through her body. Her pulse felt fast and faint at the same time.
No, not that. She couldn’t still be in love with Del. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t fair. He hated her, or at least despised her. He thought she was selfish, stubborn and lousy in bed. The only thing he respected about her was a body she no longer controlled.
She wanted to run away, to hide forever. She wanted to distract him or make up some other lie. Instead she squared her shoulders and forced herself to look at him. She was done with pretending. The time had come to face a situation entirely of her own making.
“I’m Josie,” she said. “I know I look and sound different, but that’s because of the accident.”
Del shook his head in denial. Josie? His Josie? He stared at the woman sitting in front of him and tried to find some piece of the woman he’d known…and married. His mind reeled as he attempted to believe what she was saying. His senses—the ones engaged during the kiss—told him she was telling the truth. The rest of him refused to believe it.
“Josie?”
Was it possible? He studied the unfamiliar face, looking for a trace of the woman he’d lived with for three years. He searched her eyes, accepting the color and shape was the same. Her mouth, too. But the rest of her? He shook his head. Everything had changed. Her cheeks, her chin, her hair. Her body.
He swore under his breath as he looked—really looked—at her body. A couple of faint scars were visible on her forearm. The soft cotton dress she wore outlined full breasts and hips so incredibly foreign from what he remembered. Her cane lay on the floor. A cane? Josie? Having to walk with help? A woman who had spent her entire life running and jumping and searching for the next physical challenge.
“You can’t be,” he said.
“If you’re caught up in the physical changes, I have trouble accepting them myself,” she said quietly, her voice low and unfamiliar.
He took another step back. “But you don’t just look different, you sound different.”
“I know. There was minor damage to my vocal cords. Nothing serious, but it changed the pitch of my voice.”
She was so damned calm and rational. As some of the shock wore off, anger seeped into him. Anger and rage and a sense of having been played for a fool.
“What kind of game is this?” he demanded. “What did you think you were doing, lying to me? Is this a joke?”
He glared at her, demanding answers. The old Josie would have pushed back, harder and longer, turning things around so everything was his fault. But this new Josie—a woman he couldn’t connect with the one he’d known before—simply shook her head.
“I don’t have a good response to that,” she admitted, not quite meeting his eyes.
“That’s not good enough. What do you want? Why did you come back here?”
She swallowed. If he hadn’t known better, he would swear that she was hurt and more than a little scared. But that wasn’t possible. Nothing scared Josie and she didn’t care about anyone enough to get hurt. She only cared about herself and winning.
He pulled out the chair he’d sat in before and slumped heavily in the seat. He couldn’t get a handle on all the new information. Because the woman he’d known before had nothing in common with the woman he’d gotten to know over the past few weeks. Delicate, pretty Rose with the flowing dresses and long wavy hair was nothing like his ex-wife. Not in looks, attitude or personality.
“I’m not sure why I came back,” she said slowly, finally looking at him. “There was an assortment of reasons, none of which I can explain right now. I didn’t set out to trick you. I honestly thought you’d recognize me when you saw me.”
“But I didn’t and you didn’t say anything.”
“I know.” She dropped her gaze to her hands. They twisted together on her lap as she laced and unlaced her fingers.
“Why did you do it? What did you have to gain by being Rose?”
“It wasn’t about gain. It was about…” She sighed. “You liked Rose a whole lot more than you liked me. It was dumb, I know, but I thought that maybe if I was someone else, we could sort of get to know each other again. As different people.”
He stiffened, disbelief fueling his anger again. Yeah, right. On what planet would Josie Fitzgerald want a second chance with anyone? She was lying to him again, damn her. Playing some kind of twisted game.
“Why would you think I’d want to get to know you again?” he asked, being deliberately cruel. “One relationship with you was enough. I might be a slow learner, but I figured out that lesson. Once with you was plenty.”
She made a sound low in her throat. He wasn’t impressed by the trick, so he ignored it. Josie reached for her cane, then rose to her feet. Her movements were shaky and awkward. For a second he wondered if she was all right, then he pushed the concern away. He didn’t give a rat about her. He’d already fallen for the “poor me” game once. He wasn’t going to do it again. For all he knew, there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, dropping her head so that her hair swung down, shielding her face from view.
But not before he saw a glint that on anyone else he would have sworn was a tear. Except Josie never cried. Not once in all the time he’d known her.
“I c-can’t do this anymore,” she said, walking haltingly toward the door. “I’m sorry. About everything. I just can’t.”
She sounded broken and in pain. He almost weakened. Then he reminded himself what she’d been doing for the past three weeks, how he’d been attracted to her and had imagined her to be someone he would like to know better. The rage returned, and with it his resolve to stand firm.
“You’re not leaving,” he said as he stood. “Not until we get this settled. For once, we’re going to finish a conversation. You’re not going to run out or throw something. You’re going to stand right here until this is resolved.”
She raised her head and stared at him. Tears swam in her eyes. Josie crying?
“Please, Del,” she begged. “Don’t make this any more horrible. You’ve already told me exactly what you think of me. Do you really have to torture me any more?”
He remembered then all the things he’d told “Rose” about his ex-wife. The brutal assessments of her personality and how she’d disappointed him both in and out of bed. He winced, knowing that would have been tough for anyone to hear. Then he reminded himself he’d only spoken the truth. If Josie wasn’t strong enough to hear it, that wasn’t his fault. He would—
“Del?”
The soft sound cut through his thoughts. She swayed slightly. Instantly he knew something was wrong. Really wrong. But before he could reach her, she collapsed on the floor.
Four hours later Del stood at the foot of Josie’s hospital bed watching a nurse take her vital signs. He hadn’t thought the situation between them could get anymore strange, but he’d been wrong.
According to the emergency room doctor who had admitted Josie, she was dehydrated, fight
ing an infection and generally run-down. Del felt as if he were somehow responsible—as if their argument had been what had pushed her over the edge. She’d regained consciousness almost immediately after one of his crew had called 911, but Del would never forget those few minutes of panic when he hadn’t been sure if she were dead or alive.
Nothing made sense, he thought as the nurse finished her work, gave him a reassuring smile and left the room. How could this woman who looked and acted so differently be his ex-wife? And he knew she was Josie. She’d been through a horrible experience and had survived.
He felt a flash of guilt. While they’d been arguing at her house, he’d wondered if she’d made up the accident. But once in the hospital she’d changed from her regular clothes to a hospital gown. As she’d been sliding into bed he’d seen the scars crisscrossing her legs. Some were thin and faded but others appeared to be recent. He recalled that, as Rose, she’d told him there was more surgery in her future.
Who are you?
He wanted to ask the question again, but this time without the anger. He really wanted to know who she had become. Was Rose real? Not the name, of course, but the woman behind the name. Is that why he’d been so angry? Was it so much about Josie’s lies or had he been regretting the loss of someone he’d been starting to care about?
Who was real? The old Josie or the new Josie? Had her “Rose” personality been a reflection of the changes in her life or was it all an act?
“What are you thinking?”
He looked up and saw Josie watching him with a wary expression. Despite the confusion and the questions, he couldn’t help smiling ruefully. “At least I understand why the more I was around Rose, the more I thought of you. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. After three years you were firmly back in my brain, and I didn’t know why.”
He also understood the attraction he felt for Rose. Whatever their other problems, there had always been chemistry between Josie and him. Although, he wasn’t going to share that with her.
Wife in Disguise Page 10
