KITCHEN CLOSED until further notice, read the note propped on the counter beneath the telephone. The cook ran off to join the circus.
Jake Marshall squinted and read it again as he groped for a mug to fill with lifesaving coffee—
Which…wasn’t there. The carafe was empty of all but sludge.
“Lilah?” The house had a different feel without her in it—too still, somehow. Sterile and cold, robbed of her unbounded energy.
He glanced out the window and saw Puddin’ sniffing around. Though the dog was nominally his, Lilah was the one who babied the old guy. If she had really run away, she’d have Puddin’ with her.
Jake grinned sleepily, shrugged and began assembling the makings for a fresh pot. She was pulling his leg, of course, but Lilah’s mischief went down better after his brain was clicking.
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The filters took a while to hunt down. When was the last time he’d had to make coffee? She was always up before him. He muttered a little before he finally located them. Now, was it one extra scoop for the pot or—
He gave up, shoulders drooping. He craved caffeine, tanker loads of it. Now. Last night had been a long one, with an emergency surgery lasting until nearly
2:00 a.m. Okay, you can do this. He dumped two extra scoops for good measure, then shuffled off to hit the shower while the coffee was brewing. On the way, he passed the dining room—
Oh, hell. Their anniversary. He’d missed it. No wonder Lilah had sounded funny when he’d phoned her to say not to wait up.
Man…everything still sat there—wilted salad, melting dessert. His favorite pot roast petrified in congealed grease. Lilah liked her house in order; she wasn’t one to leave dishes soaking in the sink, much less food going bad on the table.
He was in deep doo, no question. This date was sacred, the anniversary not of their wedding but of the night they’d first made love. Our Day, they’d named it. For twenty-six years, the tradition had been special to them both. Even during the tumultuous child-raising years they’d never missed it.
He could plead the press of work, which was admittedly crushing since he’d switched to the trauma team. He was so tired half the time he could barely remember his name.
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His colleagues thought he was crazy to leave a solid private practice, but he loved this work. Medicine interested him now in a way it hadn’t in a long time.
Not more than Lilah, though.
Kitchen closed. Suddenly the note wasn’t quite as funny. Lilah was such a gifted cook that friends had often urged her to open a restaurant or catering service. She might not be kidding, and for her to shut down her beloved kitchen…not good. He had some serious amends to make. Thank heavens it was nearly Valen-tine’s. He’d have to go the distance to dig himself out of this hole.
As soon as he showered, he’d get busy cleaning up the dining room as a gesture of good faith. Lilah would be home soon, surely, and he’d apologize like crazy, then—
Upstairs, he heard his pager go off. And groaned. He was on call. Not a chance he could ignore it. He cast another glance at the mess, painfully aware that he barely had time to throw on clothes.
Not good. Really not good.
But Lilah loved him. He loved her.
It would all work out.
AT THE HEAD OF THE jogging trail, Lilah bent to tighten her shoelaces. Tried to focus on anything but Jake’s absence and what that meant. Once they had been everything to each other; they’d had high hopes for their life together. So many dreams and plans.
One of those, recited like a mantra to each other
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during the years of surviving the raising of teenagers, had been what life would be like when they were alone again.
Late mornings in bed. Long, lazy breakfasts, swapping sections of the paper. Time for travel, and most of all, to simply be with each other, relishing that while other relationships around them fell apart, they were more in love than ever.
Dreams now little more than vapor.
And Lilah was getting truly scared.
Missing Our Day was a shocking example, yes, but only one of many illustrating how far they’d drifted apart. Worse, Jake didn’t seem to see what he was doing to himself. To them.
What he was risking.
She’d begged Jake not to work so hard, but she might as well have saved her voice. He didn’t realize how often he slept on the couch in the den because he’d gotten in late and didn’t want to disturb her. Or was simply so tired he couldn’t manage one more step, much less muster the energy to undress.
It wasn’t as though she couldn’t entertain herself or didn’t have her own interests—she had plenty of them. But throughout all the demands on both their time, there had always been a special corner of their lives they’d held inviolate. A space inhabited only by the two of them, a refuge where they shared hopes and disappointments, encouraged and healed each other, relived precious and very private memories. One of those was Our Day, their most sacred tradition.
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If Jake could forget Our Day, they were in deeper trouble than she’d realized.
A date with her husband, an evening to reconnect, would have done wonders to settle her. To make the future seem less ominous.
It shouldn’t be—they had so much going for them. Two of the kids were still in college—Zack already out, thank heavens—but their finances were solid, and the house was paid for. Gib would be out of school in May and Carla the next year, so it was nearly their turn to fly, hers and Jake’s. They’d spent years looking forward to this time alone while they were still healthy and able.
But she’d married a latent adrenaline junkie, best she could tell. She stretched her quads, then slid into moves to do the same for her hamstrings.
Not that the signs hadn’t
been there, if only she’d recognized them. Diving off cliffs in
He’d been a resident when they met; she’d been a bookstore clerk, one of a procession of forgettable jobs she’d held since she was fourteen. She’d always worked hard but never with a clear career path in mind. She’d continued to work until she’d gotten pregnant, helping to whittle away the mountain of student loans that had come along with Jake.
Of course she’d had to get used to being a medical widow at times, married to a surgeon on call. Surgeons were renowned jet jockeys with a stiff dose of God complex. Still, he’d been a devoted father and family
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man, who’d missed the important events of his children’s lives only when absolutely necessary.
Who would have expected him to go bonkers at fifty-one and cross-train in trauma?
He was in excellent shape, but he wasn’t young. Neither was she. If they were to fulfill those ambitions of travel and fun together, they’d have to do so soon, while they were still healthy and had the energy.
Instead Jake was obsessed.
And Lilah was struggling to keep her faith.
She straightened. Refused to concede to the tears behind her eyes. She held her head high and began to run.
“WHAT A NIGHT, huh, Doc?” asked Jake’s favorite nurse, Stella, when they met at the coffeepot. “Lilah even get time to kiss you good-morning?”
He slugged down as much coffee as possible before responding, though it scorched his throat all the way. “She’s okay.” He studied the contents of his cup.
“Uh-oh. Look at me, Doc.”
“What?”
“Don’t go bein’ all innocent on me. Man can’t look me in the eye, he got somethin’ to hide.” She lifted an eyebrow. “How much trouble you in?”
“Not that much.” He cut his gaze back to Stella. “I’ll order flowers.”
“Oh, boy. You missed somethin’ important. Birthday? Anniversary?” At his wince, she arrowed in. “Son, you are a cliché, you know that? Aren’t you ashamed, Dr. Golden Hands? Couldn’t you at least screw up something original?”
Jake rolled his eyes. He hated that name, begun in his days as a renowned cosmetic surgeon. It was said that only God and Dr. Golden Hands could tell where
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your scars were and what procedure you’d had—no one else could begin to detect. He’d earned a tidy nest egg for Lilah and himself as his practice grew and grew.
Until he’d reached the day when one too many vain women, terrified of aging naturally, walked into his office, and he’d spent the entire consultation talking her into counseling, instead.
Yes, he’d had some opportunities to do meaningful work as a plastic surgeon; he’d performed pro bono procedures when possible, but he’d been determined to provide for his family as his own father had not. His mother had done her best, but her lack of education had meant a series of menial jobs. He’d wanted his children to have a full-time mom and was grateful Lilah had been of like mind.
At times, though, he’d felt that he’d sold his soul, catering to female insecurities, no matter how lucrative such a practice was, how much it meant he could do for his family. Finally he’d reached a point where he could not, in good conscience, continue.
“It wasn’t our wedding anniversary,” he protested. As if that helped. “And Lilah understands my work.” Though he was less certain of that today. “She’s a good woman. She’ll be upset, but she’ll forgive me. I’ll make it up to her on Valentine’s.” Then an idea hit. “What time is it? Know a good cleaning service?”
Stella clucked her tongue. “Exactly how big a mess did you leave?”
“Pretty bad, I guess. But hey, things seem to be quieting down, so I’ll just head home—”
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They both heard the sirens. Jake sighed. On his way to triage, he paused at the nurses’ station and spoke to the unit secretary. “Connie, if you’ll do me this favor, I’ll owe you my life.”
Connie’s face brightened. “Anything, Dr. Marshall.”
“Order a dozen red roses sent to my wife—no, take that back, make it two—no, three.” He scanned from one woman to the next. “Too much? What color says I’m sorry best?”
Nurses exchanged glances. Heads were shaking. “If you need three dozen to get you out of a jam,” one said, “then all the roses in the world won’t be enough.”
“You don’t understand my wife,” he insisted. “She’s a champ. She’s sensitive to how important my work is.”
“Uh-huh,” said another. They walked off, chuckling.
The doors to the unit burst open, and one, then two gurneys raced inside. Jake felt the familiar surge of adrenaline ride roughshod over every other emotion. “Three dozen, Connie. With a note that says I’m sorry and I’ll take care of everything.” He was snapping on his gloves. “How about you? Got the name of a good cleaning service?”
“You made the mess,” Stella said from behind him. “You’d best be the one to clean it up.”
“Right—you’re right. I left a note and told her I would. I just thought—”
“My advice, Doc? Don’t think. Get ready to grovel.”
“Lilah and I—we’re solid. We’ll be fine.”
Then there was no time, only blood and pain and decisions to be made lightning-fast. So fast you felt more alive than at any other moment.
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I’M SORRY. I was going to clean it up, but I got called in. Leave the mess for me. Love, Jake.
As she read the scrawled note on the kitchen counter amid spilled coffee grounds and abandoned filters, Lilah strolled, note in hand, to survey the dining room.
Contemplated, for the first time in their marriage, that she might have lost the man who had once been her reason for being. For breathing.
Oh, sure, there had been arguments, fights, disagreements. You couldn’t live with someone for so long and not butt heads, to say nothing of how much the raising of children could strain the harmony between you. She had a temper, and he was pigheaded. They had different ideas about almost everything.
But somehow the marriage had worked. There had been spice in the friction. And love, so much love.
What concerned her now was that Jake seemed clueless about how his obsession with work was affecting them. Once family had clearly been at the center of his life, and his devotion had sustained her through the difficult parts of being a medical widow and a stay-at-home, jeans-clad mom whose handsome husband spent his days with beautiful women. Many of them fell at least a little in love with him, and had Lilah not felt so secure in his love, she could have been miserable.
But he’d always come home to her, always been faithful. Of that she was absolutely positive.
Which made dealing with this first-ever mistress so alarming. She could battle a flesh-and-blood woman; she had no idea how to win against the allure of high-stakes medicine. He’d cared about his patients when 113
he’d been in plastics, but that concern paled against the siren call of trauma’s life-or-death drama.
The kids were gone, and suddenly Lilah found herself almost an afterthought. She didn’t believe he was doing it on purpose, but somehow his lack of awareness was even more painful.
She was excruciatingly aware that there was no telling how many years they had left together. When Jake’s best friend, Bob Hunter, had died at fifty-two from a heart attack, the shock of it had made her resolve to stop putting off the adventures she and Jake had planned.
But the effect on Jake had been different. That was when he’d closed his practice and switched to trauma. Begun working even harder.
She was terrified of losing him, but when she brought up the subject, he reassured her that she’d be left a woman of means. He’d make sure she was taken care of.
Idiot. She didn’t want money; she wanted him. Laughing together as they once had so often. Traveling the world or simply sitting on their deck in the moonlight, holding hands.
She’d brought up the subject on numerous occasions, though careful not to nag. He spent so much time at home in a haze of exhaustion that she was loath to disrupt what peace he could find here. She kept searching for the wake-up call that would get through to him. To let him know how much she missed him.
She could start that catering business friends urged her to consider, but while that would fill the hours alone,
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it would be only a half life, a diversion to deflect her from thoughts of what might have been.
They’d been so smug about the infallibility of their love—could she ever have imagined they’d be this out of touch with each other?
Jake Marshall, you big lug. She swiped at the tears she’d sworn not to shed. Get a clue.
She walked into the dining room with a trash bag to set the room straight. She thought better when her hands were busy, and the mess he wasn’t here to see was driving her nuts.
The doorbell rang. She set the bag down and went to answer the door. The delivery guy was nearly invisible behind the explosion of roses.
Her heart melted a little as she accepted them. Well-tipped, the messenger left, and Lilah placed the bouquet on the foyer table. Opened the card. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll take care of everything. Love, Jake.
“You’ll mean to,” she murmured. “Until you get paged again.” With dragging feet, she returned to the dining room and cleared away the debris.
The roses were beautiful. Extravagant.
Impersonal. Money was not a big problem, thanks to the investments they’d made with the income from his former very lucrative practice.
Roses were too easy. She could accept them, forgive him whenever he finally arrived home, let things rock on this way, as they most certainly would if she let them.
But Lilah wanted Jake back. Her Jake. Yearned for him to look at her, really look, not have his vision 115
clouded by exhaustion or worry over his patients, by the blinding light of being the key player in the struggle to preserve life.
What he was doing fell little short of a miracle at times, yes. He was proud of his work, and she was proud of him. She had no wish to rob his patients of his lifesaving skills.
But he wasn’t the only physician on the planet, gifted as he was. He was taking too much of the load on his shoulders, and she was losing him, a slow bleeding out as deadly as any patient’s.
There had to be some compromise, but thus far, she was the only one yielding. Jake Marshall had been her world for years, but sometimes lately she felt she barely knew him.
There had to be a road back for them. If she had to fight for him, then she would.
Even if it meant fighting dirty.
Inspiration hit. She raced through the cleanup and headed for her kitchen.
JAKE YANKED off his surgical mask, yawned really big and doubled over against the wall, stretching his aching back. Hours of surgery were hell on the skeleton; maybe he should check into that yoga class Lilah had urged him to take.
He stepped away and arched, then lifted his arms high over his head.
He could sleep for a week. Twelve hours in the sack sounded like heaven. Wrapped around Lilah, snuggled in their bed together—
Lilah. What time was it? He pulled his cell from his pocket and strode from the surgical wing to remove himself from all the telemetry. Down the hall that divided operating rooms from ICU, through the double doors that barred entry except during brief visiting hours, past the ICU waiting room—
A figure all but mowed him down. A tear-stained face greeted him. “Dr. Marshall? Are you Dr. Marshall?”
He barely had a chance to nod before the woman threw herself into his arms.
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“Thank you—oh, thank you so much. My grand-daughter—you saved her. My son said—” She burst into noisy sobs.
The parade through the intersecting hallway that was the main artery of the hospital continued, an orderly grinning at Jake’s discomposure, a nurse smiling, an EMT shaking his head as Jake awkwardly patted the woman’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It was—” Nothing, he’d started to say.
But that was wrong. The surgery wasn’t as complex as many he’d done, but they had in fact saved the little girl’s life. Not just him, the whole team. Once more, pride swelled in him. What he was doing made a difference. This—moments like this, here in the beating heart of a trauma center, where events were so often balanced on a tenuous edge, hope off one side, agonizing loss on the other—
There was nothing like being sure that what you did mattered. That you could, with luck and skill, restore a person to those they loved. Battle death and win.
His hollow stomach, his tired feet, the exhaustion he’d felt for hours…all of them vanished in this one shining moment, and Jake closed his phone, stuck it in the case attached to his waistband—
And settled in to let the older woman cry it out.
Feeling like a million bucks.
A FEW MINUTES LATER, after being introduced to the rest of the family and chatting with them about how long the little girl’s recovery would require, Jake departed, eager to share with Lilah what had just happened.
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Near the wall of glass where he could obtain decent reception, he dialed his home and waited.
And waited. When Lilah’s voice-mail message started, he listened to her and smiled. At the beep, he began. “Babe, I wish you were here. I just worked on a five-year-old girl who was hit in a drive-by shooting.” The injustice rolled over him again. “What the hell are people thinking?” He choked back his outrage and continued. “But she’s going to make it. Her family—they treated me like I was a superhero. Her grandmother kept crying and hugging me and—” Then he remembered the purpose of his call. “I’m really sorry about Our Day, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He lowered his voice to a near growl, one he knew got to her on a visceral level. “I’d like to be doing some making up right now, if you catch my drift.”
Someone brushed past, and he cleared his throat. “Um, Gruenwald got delayed, so I have to stick around awhile. The second I can, though, I’ll be home. I’m going to grab a bite while the coast is clear, then—” Sirens sounded, and he groaned. “Damn. Gotta go. I love you, Lilah, so much.”
He snapped his phone shut and charged down the hall.
Two and a half hours later, Jake’s butt was seriously dragging as he approached the tiny break room off the
E.R. administrator’s office, but worn-out as he was, he couldn’t help noticing the crowd spilling out the door. He frowned and tried to skirt past because all he wanted to do was be home and horizontal as soon as possible.
But someone hollered his name. “Yo, Doc. Your woman is amazing.” His head snapped to the side. “What?”
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“Come here,” said Stella. “Let him through, you hogs. Let the man have a chance at the goods.”
A path widened for him, and he spotted what the fuss was all about.
A spread, the likes of which made his mouth water, filled the entire table. Fat clumps of grapes, plump strawberries, an array of meats and cheeses, vegetables, crackers and dips. A variety of pastries that smelled like heaven.
Vintage Lilah. Despite the fact that every hand he saw was full, there was plenty of food left, and all of it beautifully presented.
“You are one lucky son of a gun, Marshall,” said a male nurse he was certain belonged to ICU and not the
E.R.
Jake glanced around and saw that the crowd held many more people than simply trauma personnel. Lilah understood their lot; the staffs housed in this wing seldom got proper breaks to go eat. Everything they did was about speed and immediacy. The lives under their care couldn’t wait for someone to return from a leisurely meal, and the people here were dedicated to an extreme degree. Long shifts, high pressure and little downtime exacted a toll.
Damn. What a woman. “I am,” he responded, and ducked Stella’s gaze. He’d screwed up so badly and what did Lilah do? She made him a feast. Sure, she’d cooked it for all of them, but he knew whom she was really caring for.
Him. Lucky son of a gun Jake Marshall.
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Starving Jake Marshall. He dove in, snagged a
handful of food and wheeled to go. Home to Lilah. “Wait—” The unit secretary grabbed his arm. “Uh-uh. I’m way overdue to leave.” “I understand. But she sent you something special.” Jake spotted a bag in the woman’s hands, with his
name on it. He accepted it and resumed his departure. “Hey, Doc, you’re not going to let us peek?” Recalling all the times Lilah had packed him a lunch
and slipped in something private and often racy, Jake shook his head. “Nope.” And winked before he left. To the sound of whistles and jeers and laughter.
Excellent stress relief. Thank you, Lilah. From all of us.
He practically inhaled the food as he loped toward the doctors’ locker room. Once inside, he made certain he was alone before he opened the bag, already grinning in anticipation.
Then he frowned. A package of underwear. With a note.
Here. Thought you might need this. No signature. No Love, Lilah. No sketched heart. Why would he need new underwear? There was
plenty at home, always clean and folded in his drawer. What had that note in the kitchen said?
The cook ran off to join the circus.
But she’d made food for them, when she’d said the kitchen was closed. Food meant love to Lilah; she’d always told him she put her heart in every meal.
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She wouldn’t actually leave him. Would she? Jake didn’t wait to change; he remained in his
scrubs, simply tossed his clothes and shoes in his gym bag and seconds later was out the door.
“NO, I’M NOT CRAZY,” Lilah said to her sister, Belinda, as her car barreled down the road.
“Don’t bet on it. You have a man—a hunk, by the way—who’s never so much as winked at another woman. Who loves you to distraction, has provided for his family and, despite a very busy career, missed few of the kids’ plays and games and recitals—and you’re leaving him?”
“You don’t understand.” Lilah couldn’t blame her sister. Belinda’s ex had not only cheated on her but was frequently behind on his child support. “Everything’s different now.”
Belinda’s sigh was loud. Frustrated. “He still returns home to you, Lilah. He loves you. How bad can it be?”
Lilah chewed at her lip. Decided. “He forgot Our Day.”
“Oh. Wow.” Belinda had babysat their children many a year so that this one inviolable celebration could go on. “But maybe he—”
“Belinda,” Lilah said. “Please be on my side right 123
now—” She couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes. “I don’t want to do this, Bee, but nothing gets better. He’s like an addict who doesn’t believe there’s a problem even when his arms are covered with needle marks.” She blinked hard. “I’ve talked to him, made excuses for him. That what he’s doing is so important only makes things worse. But I’m scared to death of winding up like Bob Hunter’s wife, Linda. I’ve got a lovely home and no financial worries, but I didn’t marry a house or money. I married a man I hardly ever see anymore.” She sniffed back sobs. “I miss him so much.”
“Of course you do.” Belinda became solicitous. “I’ll put the coffee on. It’ll be ready by the time you get here.”
“Puddin’s with me. Is that all right?”
“Okay, now I really am worried. You’ve kidnapped Jake’s dog. That’s serious stuff.”
“He’d starve to death if I left him there.” Lilah stroked the head of the gray-muzzled mutt. “And he’s my dog, too.” Though it was Jake who’d found him and brought him home. Ever the savior.
“The kids will be thrilled. Everybody adores Puddin’.”
“Thanks, Bee.” Lilah swiped at her cheeks. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, big sis.”
Being the sister in need was hard. Most often, Lilah had been the one who’d had things wired, who’d picked up the pieces when Belinda’s luck had gone astray. It had been a point of pride for Lilah that she had the perfect family, the dream home, the complete package.
She wanted that dream back. She longed to turn around and go home. Let Jake have one more chance.
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But she was very afraid that nothing would change if she did.
So Lilah petted the dog for comfort.
And kept driving.
HE JITTERED HIS KNEE at stoplights. Tapped the steering wheel. Drove like a maniac down the freeway, gripped by dread.
She wouldn’t. She loved him. He loved her. They were two halves of one whole, had been for years. She’d never given him any reason to worry about her devotion—
I thought we could go to
I’m on call.
A frown marring her lovely face. You were on call last weekend, and the one before.
You’re exhausted, Jake. You have to have a break.
I’m fine, babe. We’ll go on my next free weekend, okay?
A quick swivel of her head, but not before her disappointment registered. Sure. She’d continued cleaning the kitchen. He’d left for the hospital.
That had been how long ago? He attempted to calculate back, but the days and weeks blurred together. He’d meant to make good on his promise, but one of 125
the kids had decided to visit, then there’d been the holidays…
Images of guttered candles and dinner gone stone-cold.
The cook ran off to join the circus.
Here. Thought you might need this.
“She’ll be there,” he muttered. “I’ll explain. I’ll clean up. Take her out to dinner.” Though he was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other.
At last, he wheeled into his drive and hit the garage-door-opener button, willing her car to be inside.
But only emptiness greeted him.
Damn it, Lilah. Okay, so you’re angry. I don’t blame you. She had a temper, but it flared and died just as fast. He’d busy himself clearing the mess, then catch a shower while he was waiting for her to arrive.
He walked into the kitchen, the silence deep and hollow. Barren. He thought about how seldom he’d entered their home—any home they’d occupied— without Lilah there, waiting for him. However harried she might be by the demands of family, the carpools, school plays, homework assignments, dinner parties, holidays—by some magic, she reigned at the center of their universe, a queen in blue jeans and sneakers who made it look easy. Who might blow her stack now and again, but who surrounded them with the knowledge that they were cherished. That comfort was to be had at any moment.
That they were safe, all of them, secure in her love.
Here he was in the heart of her domain, the kitchen,
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and he felt her absence keenly. Home was just a building without her in it.
Dread curdled in his gut as he made his way to the dining room, predictably ordered and sparkling despite his promise to deal with the debris.
The roses—his roses—stood in the center, lush and gorgeous—
And wrong. So wrong. Stella had nailed it. Roses were a cliché, however profuse their number, and they were not Lilah at all. She was a unique mix of exotic and down-to-earth—she’d like bird of paradise mixed with geraniums. Daisies and bluebells. A fistful of wildflowers he’d picked himself.
Jake stood in the framed opening and pictured her face when the roses had arrived. Surrounded by the remains of a meant-to-be-special dinner she’d labored over.
Heard her voice in his head.
You’re working too hard.
Could you take some time off?
We’re not getting any younger, Jake.
The words had been a fly’s pesky buzz he’d flicked away. What he was doing was crucial—didn’t she get that?
I miss you.
More crucial than that?
He detoured to the backyard. He’d play with Puddin’ for a while since he’d barely seen the dog in days. Then he’d shower and be ready when Lilah returned. He’d phone in sick and spend the next two days in bed with her.
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He whistled for his dog. Clapped his hands and called out, “Puddin’, come on, buddy. Let’s throw the ball.”
But the dog was gone, too.
Still he clung to hope as he raced up the stairs, yanked open the closet, pored through her dresser drawers, scanned the vanity in their bathroom.
Got hopping mad at first. Lilah, why the hell didn’t you hang around? Talk to me? I miss you.
She’d talked, all right. He just hadn’t been listening. Jake sank to the bed, head in hands. He had to think,
to figure out where she might be. He’d follow and plead his case. He’d make her understand that he was sorry. Man, what a day. He sagged back. Just for a minute,
he thought. Only to clear my head. His eyes drifted shut. Seconds later, he was out.
“THAT TICKLES, Aunt Lilah!” Her nephew, Thad, wriggled in her lap as she buried her nose in his neck.
Was there ever a better smell than little-boy sweat? Slightly acrid, salty with an undertone of grass and leaves—
She squeezed him more tightly, just for a second, then growled, as he’d like much better. “Too bad, Sky Master. I have you in my power, and you’re not getting loose.” Her fingers tucked into his sides and began a dance designed to make him writhe.
“No—help! Save me, Mom!” Thad giggled, squirming like an eel to escape the tickling. “Aunt Lilah, no—” He nearly fell off her lap, but Lilah caught him in time.
Then lost her balance. “Oof—”
Thad escaped and shot to his feet, arms thrown high in the air. “I win! Score, Sky Master, one—” He cast her a mock-sneer. “Ancient Aunt Lilah, zip.”
“Ancient, huh? I’ll show you—” Lightning-quick, she leaped.
He skipped away, squealing his delight. “Can’t catch me, can’t catch me—”
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Puddin’ barked and circled them. Lilah charged after Thad, who squealed his delight. He whirled to head down the hall—
And ran smack into his mother, who was loaded down with linens for the sofa. Belinda grabbed him with her one free arm. “Have you finished your homework, young man?”
“Aw, Mom. Aunt Lilah and me—”
“And I—” Belinda corrected.
Thad rolled his eyes. “Aunt Lilah—” He cast Lilah a grin. “Young Aunt Lilah and I were just taking a break. Weren’t we?”
Out of breath, Lilah lifted an eyebrow. “If you think I’m helping you out now, you are severely wrong, my man.”
“Young, beautiful Aunt Lilah?” His mouth curved.
“You’re out of luck, champ. The mom is here now. Better go do your homework.”
“Man…You’re no fun, Mom.” But his eyes sparkled.
“And don’t assume I’m not proud of that.” Belinda brushed his hair from his forehead.
A pang of sheer envy hit Lilah, and not because few things disturbed Thad’s sunny demeanor—after all, he wasn’t a teenager yet. Plenty of time for that to change.
But even in the worst of the roller coaster of her kids’ adolescence, she’d loved being a mother. Couldn’t get enough of having her chicks around her, never mind that they’d brought platoons of friends and noise with them. She’d cooked enough for an army day after day and had felt honored that her children’s friends pre
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ferred her house over their own. She’d dried tears and planned campaigns to win over crushes, counseled this one to forgive his dad and that one to deal with her mom.
Every day had flown by so swiftly that it wasn’t until Gib and his friends had all gone off to college that she’d had a moment to catch her breath.
She liked the silence, the freedom. She did. Hadn’t she prayed for this day?
Yet as she watched her nephew do his little-boy skip down the hall to his room, her heart twisted. “They grow up so fast, Bee.”
“Is that the real issue?” Her sister clasped her hand. “You miss the kids?”
“No. I told you—”
The telephone rang, and Lilah didn’t get to finish. As her sister headed to the kitchen, Lilah called out, “Remember—you promised.”
Belinda picked up the phone. “Hello?” Then she glanced at her sister. “Hi, Jake.” She listened, and Lilah could sense her waffling. Belinda adored Jake, and the feeling was mutual.
Lilah fired off her sternest glare.
Belinda’s shoulders sank. “No, I haven’t seen her. She’s probably just run out for something, you think?” Her brows snapped together. “She took the dog, huh? Has anything happened between you?”
“Oh. Wow. Missing Our Day. That’s pretty bad.”
Belinda’s voice went soft. “She loves you, Jake. Don’t forget that. Of course I will.” She frowned at 131
Lilah. “It would be stupid of her not to give you a
chance to explain.”
Lilah threw up her hands. Great. Just great.
“But maybe you two just need some time together. You’ve been putting in a lot of hours lately.”
Okay, good girl. Thank you.
“Well, of course you’re doing all this for her,” Belinda soothed. “You’ve worked hard to take care of your family.”
Lilah moved to stand square in Bee’s path, hands on hips. She made a slicing motion at her own throat.
Bee’s expression was both guilty and helpless. Lilah could hear Jake’s voice on the other end, and for a second, she was tempted by the beloved sound of it.
She had to resist. Yes, she loved him. Missed him already.
But she’d done little except miss him for months now.
If she caved this soon—
“Have you checked with the kids?” Bee asked.
Lilah was horrified. She grabbed her sister’s arm. Leave the kids out of this, she mouthed.
“Absolutely. They’d only worry.” Mutiny was on Belinda’s face.
Lilah held her breath.
“Listen, Jake, Thad’s asking for me. Can I call you back?”
Lilah’s eyebrows rose to her hairline.
“That’s okay. You get some sleep. I’m sure you’re exhausted. Do you have anything to eat?”
She was going to kill her little sister. The man had plenty of money to order food.
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And anyway, she’d left some things in the refrigerator, despite her threat.
“Oh.” Bee’s mouth quirked. “That was sweet of her. See? She does love you. Everything will be fine.” At Lilah’s disgusted expression, Belinda simply stuck out her tongue. “Yes, I promise. If she contacts me, you’ll be the first to know.” She said goodbye and hung up the phone.
“What are you doing? You said you wouldn’t take his side. You can’t make promises like that.”
“If you’d go home, I wouldn’t have to lie again.” Belinda’s face got that stubborn cast she’d perfected as a child. “I love him, too, Lilah. He’s a wonderful man. I don’t like being a part of hurting him.”
“And I do? There’s nothing I’d rather do than race home and fall into his arms—” She stopped. Exhaled. “This isn’t fair to you. I’ll check into a hotel.”
“No, you won’t. Besides, what about Puddin’?”
“I’ll put him in the kennel.”
“He’s old. He should be in his yard.”
Lilah fought not to burst into tears. “Of course he should. I want to be home, too, but I’m fighting for my marriage.” She collapsed into a kitchen chair. “I’m making this up as I go, Bee.”
She wished more than ever for her mother’s guidance, her steady hand, but her parents were both gone now. “My husband, whom I love more than life, has never been further away from me. He’s so thrilled with what he’s doing and it’s important, yes, but—” Then she voiced her deepest fear. “I’m scared he’s 133
going to wind up like Bob. That this new career will kill him.”
Belinda bent to her, wrapped Lilah in her arms. “I am so sorry. I didn’t understand.” Their roles reversed, for a change, younger sister rocking the elder. “Don’t you dare leave. I’ll lie to him if I must because this is important. You two belong together. But, Lilah—” She drew back. Lifted her sister’s head. “You will have to face him at some point and hash this out.”
“I understand. But so far when I’ve tried, all he hears is nagging. Anyway, maybe he’s tired of me. Perhaps the magic is over.”
“You didn’t hear his voice. The man is worried. He’s not going to wait long before he calls in official help and your face winds up on TV. The only thing that’s holding him back at the moment is his shame. He’s aware that he screwed up. He just doesn’t get the big picture yet.”
“I can’t stand the thought of getting anyone else involved.”
“Except your poor sister, who hates deceiving the man she’s had a crush on since she was fifteen?” Belinda grinned.
“You can’t have him.” Lilah sniffed and straightened. “Knothead though he is, I am not giving him up without a fight. He’s going to have to tell me he doesn’t want me anymore.” Her heart clenched at the mere thought.
“He’s a knothead, maybe, but he’s not insane. You’re the best thing that ever happened to him.” Bee shook her head. “More’s the pity. He is hot, you know.”
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“He is.” Lilah’s voice lowered. “But I can’t say the same. My figure’s going, and my hair’s turning gray. I’m not the woman he married.”
“Don’t be an idiot. Jake’s sexy for an older guy, but he’s aged, too. Neither of you is anywhere near decrepit, though. Plus there’s always the little blue pill.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but when he does manage to be home and not dead on his feet, that’s not an issue.”
“Have you considered seducing him?”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course I have. This isn’t solved with a great round of sex.”
“No need to rub it in. You think you’re deprived— I’m single with two kids. I’m not sure I remember how.”
Instantly Lilah was reminded that her sister’s lot was not an easy one. “I’m so sorry.”
“Well—” Belinda’s tone was tart “—you should be.” Then she grinned. “Here’s a suggestion. I’ll put the kids to bed. You grab the wine. We’ll have a pity party and trash the Y chromosome half of the species.”
“It won’t fix my problem, Bee.”
“Mine, either. Let’s do it anyway.” Belinda winked, but Lilah spotted the loneliness beneath her sister’s bravado.
So she nodded. “Why not?”
JAKE BOLTED AWAKE, drenched in sweat. Hard and aching from a dream of Lilah one summer night when the kids were off at camp, he extended a hand to draw her close—
And encountered air. Empty sheets.
She loves you, Jake.
Did she? How was this love, to just pull up roots and leave? He’d never expected anything like it from her.
He launched himself from the bed, in no mood to concede that most of her belongings were still in the house, that he’d broken a sacred tradition. She was gone, damn it, and she should be here. How the hell could they resolve anything if she’d vanished?
But the word itself sent a small shudder through him. Vanished.
Every day in his work, he witnessed how easily a loved one could be lost. One moment a person was riding in a car or walking down the street or simply sitting in a chair and—bam. Life, so rich and potent, snuffed out in an instant. Or bodies shattered in such a manner that they’d never be the same.
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No. Not his Lilah. She couldn’t be taken from him so effortlessly. He’d fight the devil himself for her—
He grabbed the phone, heedless of the hour. Dialed her cell. This was stupid. He’d missed an anniversary— okay, an important one. The important one. But they could talk. Work things out.
Assuming he could find her.
The phone kicked to voice mail. “Leave me a message,” said the beautiful half-husky tone that even now had the power to reach down inside him.
“Lilah, where the hell are you? This isn’t funny. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove—” Great, just great. That’ll bring her back. One steadying breath, then, “Come home. I’m—” The beep signaled the end of the message right in the middle of “—worried.”
He stared at the receiver in his hand. Stifled the urge to throw it out the window. Debated another attempt. Not that it would help. He had to see her. Be with her. Hold her and everything would work out.
Where was she?
Jake tossed the phone onto the mattress. By the second bounce, he was already starting the shower.
No more sleep tonight.
Might as well work.
LILAH JOLTED when the phone chirped with the salsa tune she’d chosen as her ring tone. She clasped it to her belly and skittered across Belinda’s living room before the sound could awaken anyone else.
Once inside the kitchen, she glanced at the display.
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Her home number. Jake.
She hesitated. She needed to have her act together when they spoke. That first contact was all-important, would set the tone for whatever happened next.
She wasn’t ready.
She wished she hadn’t left the phone on; doing so actually made little sense when she didn’t dare speak to Jake, but she’d had some notion of remaining available to her children, however unlikely it was that they’d contact her. Zack did so infrequently. Carla and Gib were barely back from Christmas break and had both been more than ready to return to school and their friends.
Anyway, they’d try home, not her cell at this time of night.
Panic struck. What if he was phoning because something had happened to one of them? She clicked the On button. “Jake?”
The dial tone greeted her. She hit Off, then prepared to dial her house.
The voice-mail icon brightened her screen. With haste she selected it.
Lilah, where the hell are you? This isn’t funny.
She sank back against the pantry wall. Blinked at the broom gone wavery behind the moisture stinging her eyes. He didn’t sound sad or lonely or any of the emotions Belinda had attributed to him.
He was mad, pure and simple. Aggravated. Demanding.
She let her head fall against a shelf. Maybe there was
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no hope for them. The first sound of his voice in nearly three days, and there was no love in it, not even lukewarm fondness.
Now she was really frightened. What if they were one of those couples who simply grew apart? Had nothing in common after the children left? He’d made a sharp left turn in his career and caught her by surprise— who was to say he wasn’t itching for a change in his personal life, as well?
Profoundly unsettled, she huddled in her sister’s pantry, pondering whether the marriage that had once been nearly perfect—crazy, chaotic, but perfect in its own way—was over.
Or had been a figment all along.
Her heart was as cold as the grave at the mere notion. She couldn’t think what to do. If she’d been at home, she’d have flipped on all the lights and begun cooking or something.
But she was in her sister’s apartment, and Belinda had to be at work in a few hours. The kids must go to school.
The click of claws outside the door sent a shudder through her. Puddin’ whimpered.
Lilah opened the door, limp with relief. “Hey, boy.” She drew him near, wrapped her arms around him as if he were the only thing solid in her world.
He released one of his old-dog groans and licked her hand.
Lilah let Jake’s dog comfort her and wondered if Jake himself would ever do so again.
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JAKE STORMEDfrom the doctors’ locker room and made his way to the E.R.
Stella was standing at the desk and frowned. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Work.” He surveyed the quiet room, then picked up a random chart and started reading.
One caramel hand slapped on top of the words. “I repeat—what do you think you’re doing here? You’ve put in overtime and then some. Go home to your wife.”
“I would if I had one,” he snarled.
Stella’s glance was razor keen. “Uh-oh.” She snagged his arm. “Come with me.”
He shook her off. “I’m busy.”
“Uh-huh. I can see that.” She nodded at the paperwork. “You’re such a fan of reading closed charts on their way to be filed.” She tugged again. “You following me or do I have to get rough?”
“Buzz off, Stel.” He glowered at her.
But Stella hadn’t reigned over the E.R. for twenty-one years for nothing. “If you got some notion you’re scaring me, Doctor—” her tone was witheringly formal “—you are one crazy white man.” She sighed. “Not that you aren’t already managing a dead-on imitation of a fool.”
Jake closed his eyes. Exhaled. “Look, I know you mean well—”
She grabbed him by the ear, and he yelped. Up to this point, they’d been whispering, however harshly, but now the entire staff had come to attention.
It wasn’t every day you saw a five-foot-three woman tow a six-foot-four man by his ear as though he were in grade school and on the way to the principal’s office.
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“All right, blast it.” Jake glared at her with the full force of his doctor-as-god authority. Pivoted on his heel and marched toward the hall between the E.R. and the surgical suites.
If he’d hoped to intimidate her, he was doomed to be disappointed. Stella strolled along, her chin in the air, her manner unrepentant.
He slouched against the wall like a surly teenager.
She halted in front of him, and he braced for the kind of lecture she gave so freely.
But she surprised him when her eyes went soft and worried. “Talk to me, Jake.” She touched his forearm and squeezed. “Lilah?” Her voice was pure sympathy.
He found himself absurdly near tears and looked away until he’d mastered them. His shoulders sagged. “She’s gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“Packed up. Disappeared. Took my dog.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I don’t know whether to be angry as hell or frantic. What if something—” He couldn’t say it.
“She’s okay.”
His glance was swift. “You can’t be sure.”
“We’re here and she’s not. That’s a good sign.”
“But she could be—” He choked. Anywhere. Hurt. Lonely.
“Yes, she might be injured or in trouble, but it’s probably her heart that’s hurt, not her body.”
“I screwed up, okay? It’s a special date—the most special date, all right? But you don’t just leave someone 141
because they make a one-time mistake. Not when you
love each other the way we do.”
“Have you told her?”
“Of course I have. I tell her all the time.” But then he tried to recall when he’d last said it to her in person. Love, Jake on a note acknowledging a mistake—did that count?
“Jake—” Another squeeze of his arm. “Have you studied the schedule lately? Noticed how often you’re here instead of at home?”
“It’s a busy E.R. I can’t just—”
“Stay home?” she asked. “Of course you can. What, you imagine you’re indispensable?” Another pat. “You’re good, Jake, really good. We do need you around here, but we managed before you got here, and this place will rock along without any one of us after we’re gone. It gets in your blood, trauma does, the rush of fighting back death, of caring for people at the worst moment of their lives. But you know the body can’t live on adrenaline indefinitely. You wreck your health, and you’re no good to anyone, not your patients and certainly not the loved ones who never see you anymore.”
Jake swallowed hard. Was that him?
Hadn’t Lilah been saying that, only not so bluntly?
And when had he last held her? Made love to her? Started a simple conversation, lolling in the porch swing or lying in bed, talking about their dreams?
“So what now, Stel? If that’s true, how do I fix it?”
Stella chuckled. “You been living with a woman how many years and you don’t have some notion of
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how to sweeten her up?” Her smile faded. “This might be beyond a quick fix, but my advice would be to track her down and do something unexpected. Something romantic. You remember how, or you want lessons?”
He wasn’t sure. Romance, once such a part of them, had been in short supply for a while now. How long?
Have you studied the schedule lately?
He hadn’t. All he could handle was making it from day to day, struggling to stay strong, to keep his focus sharp.
He was tired. Exhausted, really. Everyone on the
E.R. staff was younger, many by fifteen or twenty
years.
“Let a friend give you some advice?” Stella asked.
Wearily he nodded.
“I got no problems calling in favors to cover you for at least a week. Let me do this for you. For Lilah, who is a woman I respect.” She paused. “Not the least for her ability to live with a surgeon for so many years and not murder him in his sleep.”
He saw her eyes dancing. “We’ve had a terrific marriage.”
“Then make sure you keep it. But do all of us a favor first—get horizontal for about eight hours before you make any decisions.”
“But what if she’s—”
“My bet is that she’s fine, just doesn’t want to be located now. You talked to her sister yet?”
“Yeah.” Even through his fatigue, he’d heard the odd note in Belinda’s voice, he realized now. “You’re right. She knows something.”
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“Belinda will pay attention. And much as she loves her sister, she’ll contact you first if something worries her. Let all of this go for a few hours, then cook up your plans.”
“Don’t suppose you’d like to clue me in on some good ideas?”
“Doc…” Her expression was withering. “I just smack some sense into you. Your courtin’, well… You’re on your own.” She winked. “You musta been good at it once.” She waved and walked off.
“Thanks, Stel. I mean it.” A nod, and she slipped back into the E.R. Was he still capable of wooing his wife? She’d been starry-eyed and romantic the first time. This vanishing act told him she wouldn’t be a soft
touch now. He shuffled down the hall like the old man he felt more
often these days, his mind slogging through molasses. Sleep first. And decent food. The thought that she’d left him food cheered him.
There had to be hope. Hadn’t there?
LILAH DROPPED the key to her sister’s apartment and juggled grocery bags as she bent to retrieve it. Muttering, she balanced her purse on one hip and listened to Puddin’ howl on the other side of the door.
When at last she opened it,
the dog threw himself at her as if she’d trekked to the
She’d gotten far too accustomed to tapping a garage-door button and traversing only a few feet from car to kitchen counter. To possessing a large, beautiful yard where Puddin’could attend to the necessities at his leisure.
Her sister had never been so fortunate, even when she was married, and now her lot was much worse. This small apartment was all she could afford on spotty child-support payments and her salary. Lilah and Jake had offered to take Belinda and the kids in, but Belinda was proud and resolute.
And here Lilah was, making crowded living quarters only worse.
Maybe if her own marriage was over, she and 145
Belinda could share a house. She’d have to get serious about that catering business, but perhaps she’d be able to make her sister’s life easier, as well.
The very notion of leaving her home, her nest, was sheer misery. And losing Jake—
Stop. Don’t think like that. It won’t help.
So Lilah would lose herself in a time-honored escape from life’s rough passages.
She would cook. She was worn-out from a restless night, but she wasn’t going to fall into the trap of sleep. It lured her like a lover, but its appeal was of the hiding-under-covers variety, and she had to resist. If her life with Jake was over—dear mercy, how she hoped not— then she had to stay on her feet.
Puddin’ whimpered again. “Hang on, fella. Let me just put this milk in the fridge. There.” She scanned the kitchen she’d already cleaned after Belinda and the kids had left, the laundry folded and put away. She had in mind to fill Belinda’s freezer compartment, modest as it was, with some meals to reheat after a long day at work.
She’d prepare them a dinner to remember tonight, as well, and when they arrived, the rest of the apartment would be sparkling.
Maybe Lilah couldn’t keep her husband’s interest, but making a home, a refuge—this, she understood. There wasn’t a lot her sister would allow her to do for her, but Lilah could stock her pantry and gift her with some leisure while she was here.
And it would take her mind off the man who was breaking her heart.
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She plucked Puddin’s leash from atop her suitcase. “Okay, boy. Here we go.”
Lilah had no idea what her next step should be.
So she would just stay busy until she did.
JAKE PEERED INTO the mirror at the creases on his face from where he’d gone prostrate on the bed and apparently not moved an inch for hours.
What did Lilah see when she looked at this face? Damn, he was getting old. Gray at his temples—yeah, he’d rather say silver, but facts were facts—and not the hard, flat belly he’d had for most of his life. His was in better shape than a lot of his colleagues, but the resemblance to the man Lilah had married was not as strong as it had been.
He seldom gave a moment’s thought to his appearance these days in more than an “I’m clean and every-thing’s covered” sense. He’d been a natty dresser as a plastic surgeon, since appearances had been crucial to his practice, but he’d happily returned to the blue jeans of his youth after switching specialties. Trauma victims cared only about your competence, assuming they were conscious enough to notice.
He was older, yes, but he and Lilah had a terrific sex life anyway, thank goodness.
Or they once had.
Man, this introspection was killing him. He wasn’t one for navel gazing, for processing his emotions or any of that psychobabble stuff.
But when you couldn’t pin down precisely when 147
you’d last made love to your wife, that had to make a man reconsider. He felt a little as if he’d gone to sleep in one place and awakened on a foreign soil, the bedrock of his existence become quicksand.
He wanted his old life back. His old wife—though he was smart enough to wince at that phrase—back.
What about the traveling we were going to do?
Traveling was for retirement, wasn’t it? For when you had nothing better?
The man in the mirror stared at him. And just exactly what’s better than making the person you love most happy?
But first he had to find her. Get her to speak to him, though how he would do that…
Do you want lessons?
“I wonder, Stel,” he grumbled. The steps he’d tried so far hadn’t worked out so well.
Then his eyes went wide as a notion struck.
He crossed to the phone and dialed Belinda’s number at work.
“This is Belinda. How may I help you?”
“I have an idea to win over Lilah.”
A long pause. “Jake?”
“Well, hell, yes. Who else would it be?”
“You sound…better.”
“I dropped into a dead sleep. Now I’m planning how to get my wife back.”
“You found her?”
“Don’t BS me, Bee. She’s with you, I’d bet money.”
“Um, I couldn’t say.”
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“I understand I’m putting you in the middle. But I’m crazy about her, even if she did abandon me.”
“Did she? Or was it you who ditched her first?”
“Ouch.” He frowned. “Is that what she believes? Bee, I’ve been working my ass off to make a better life for us.”
“You already had one to envy, Jake.”
“But it was—” What? How did he explain the itch, the uneasy realization that what he’d accomplished hadn’t really mattered? That he didn’t have many years left to do so?
“Jake, I’m not the person you need to discuss this with.”
“But Lilah left me. She doesn’t want to talk.”
She laughed. “Don’t be such a guy. Of course she does.”
“So why did she go?”
A hearty sigh. “Men are such idiots. I could have sworn you were different.”
“I have news for you, honey. I am a guy.”
“I guess so, but I just thought you got how to treat a woman. You’re not impressing me lately, though, I have to say.”
If her tone hadn’t been so fond and teasing, he’d take umbrage, but Belinda was like his own little sister. And she was as close as he was likely to get to Lilah at the moment.
“Okay, knock off the insults and help me. This is for her own good.”
“Sadly I believe that, so I’m prepared to rat out my own sister.”
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Jake pumped his fist. “Yes!”
“Don’t start the victory dance yet. You have got some making up to do. Missing Our Day—are you kidding me?”
“I know, I know. I’m scum, I’m worthless—but
damn it, Bee, I’ve been putting in a lot of hours.” “Yeah. Why?” “Why? Because I’m needed.” “Lilah needs you, too.” He frowned. “Really?” She was always so in control,
so on top of things. Of course she loved him, but… needed him? Another sigh. “You truly do have a lot of talking to
do. Have you not been listening to a word she says?” “Why does she tell you these things and not me?” “Jake, if you want my assistance, please don’t keep
revealing how dense you are. I mean, you’ve been my
model, my hero. These feet of clay are killing me.” He struggled with temper and didn’t speak. “Okay, sorry. I love you and I’m not out to hurt your
feelings or insult you, but honestly, Jake—you have to pay attention to you two as a couple. The kids are gone. You could be lying in bed together, making love for hours, traveling, doing a million things I may not live long enough to do. You’ve got the money, you’re both healthy and you love each other, but instead of pulling together, you’re drifting apart. Why are you not taking advantage of a situation other people would kill to have?”
“Wow.” He blinked. “I have no clue what to say.” This was so much bigger than he’d realized.
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“Listen, I’ve got to get back to work. Anyway, you should be discussing this with Lilah.”
“Wait—don’t leave yet. Just—” He raked anxious fingers through his hair. “Look, I have an idea I want to try. Will you help me?”
“Does the idea include ditching your pager?”
“Ouch. It’s that bad?”
“I’ll refer you to the previous insults. Yes, things are that bad. And of course I’ll help you, you big bozo. If I believed for a second that you didn’t adore her, I wouldn’t lift a finger, but I’m positive you do. Now, I really have to go. Text me on my cell, and she won’t realize we’re communicating if she’s there.”
“Bee—thanks. I mean it. I owe you.”
“Just treasure my sister the way she deserves to be, okay? Then we’ll be even.”
“I love you, too, kid. You know that, right?”
“I do. Now, scram. Contact me when you’ve got things set up, and I’ll do my part.”
She disconnected.
Jake stood at the window for a long time. How had he not understood what was going on with the woman who was everything to him?
He replaced the receiver, then scrubbed his hands over his face and headed for the shower.
He had work to do. Plans to put in place.
“LILAH, THIS IS absolutely delicious—don’t you agree, guys?” Belinda glanced at Thad and her daughter, Becky.
“Uh-huh. Wish you could cook like this, Mom.” Thad spoke around a monster bite of the whole-grain focaccia-bread pizza Lilah had often used to trick her children into eating something healthy.
“Thad!” Lilah admonished. “Your mother is a wonderful cook.”
“Not like you, big sis. Facts are facts.”
Lilah peered into Belinda’s face, but her sister seemed unperturbed. “I don’t have a full-time job or—” Sliding her gaze to first one child, then the other, she tried to indicate the responsibility Belinda bore pretty much single-handedly.
Belinda shrugged. “Even if I had all day, I wouldn’t spend it in the kitchen. You have a gift, Lilah, and you love it.”
“I’d better. I may have to support myself with it.” Lilah ignored her sister’s instant distress. “I was
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wondering…” She kept her tone carefully casual. “How would you feel about sharing a house?”
“Lilah! You can’t be serious.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Your marriage is not over.”
The melancholy that had swooped in the second she’d washed the last pot hovered once more. “I’m not so certain. Jake loves what he’s doing. Who am I to rob him of it?”
“You can’t give up.” Belinda’s voice was harsh. “If you’d only—”
“What are you two whispering about?” Becky’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you seem so sad, Aunt Lilah?”
Whatever Bee had been about to say would have to wait. “I’m fine, honey—I promise. Just a little tired. So—” She brightened her tone. “How did your report on dolphins go?”
As her niece began to speak, Lilah forced her mind away from all thoughts of Jake. Whatever would happen in her marriage, well, she’d face it. But this child in front of her had been suffering from her parents’ divorce for months now. Here was something constructive she could do.
Carefully she drew Becky out on one point of her topic, then another, and the normally shy girl turned eager. When they’d exhausted the subject, Lilah moved to the next phase of her plans from this morning. “Kids, would you let me help you with homework tonight and put you to bed? I’d like to keep you all to myself for a little bit.”
Becky frowned. So did Thad. “But what about Mom?”
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“I was remembering that your mom loves books, and wondering if she might like to make a little trip to the bookstore. Have herself a coffee, read a magazine or two, just…have the night off.”
Both children studied their mother curiously. “You need a night off?”
Lilah laughed. “Every mom could use a break now and again. Your uncle Jake used to shoo me out of the house sometimes for that very same purpose.” She bit her lip at the bittersweet memory.
“When’s Uncle Jake going to be here? Doesn’t he miss you?” Becky asked.
Lilah and Belinda traded glances. Lilah’s throat tightened.
Belinda rode to the rescue. “Of course he does. We’re just borrowing Aunt Lilah for a bit.” A sideways look was pregnant with meaning, except Lilah couldn’t translate. “She’ll be going home soon, so we’d better enjoy her while we’ve got her, right?”
“Yeah—and her cooking,” offered Thad.
“Absolutely. And the housekeeping, I might add.” Belinda sent her a warm smile, and Lilah was relieved that Belinda had taken no offense. “Thank you again for all you did today. But I can’t let you work tonight, too.”
Lilah smiled wistfully. “You forget that I’ve done all this before.” She faced the kids. “I miss having a houseful. I’d like to keep them, if you’d let me.”
“Sure!” said Thad. “But you can’t tickle.”
Lilah’s eyebrows rose. “Wanna bet?”
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The boy beamed.
“Mama, you should go,” said Becky with the maturity that had evolved as their little family had broken up. “We’ll be fine.”
Belinda was obviously conflicted.
“Go ahead. Enjoy yourself.”
“Oh, I will, but—” She bent to her children, one on each side, and hugged them, planting a big kiss on each of them. “I’ll miss you two monkeys.” Her eyes glistened.
Lilah’s own were moist. “We’ll be fine. Now scram.” She waggled her eyebrows at Becky and Thad. “We have some mischief to get into.” She rubbed her hands together. How long it had been! “After homework, of course.”
Belinda emerged from her bedroom, buttoning her coat. She withdrew her cell phone from her purse and glanced down, forehead wrinkled.
“What?” Lilah rose and stepped away from the children. “Are you all right?”
Belinda snapped her phone shut. “Yes—sure. Absolutely.” She kissed her kids once more, then hustled to the door, a secret smile on her face. Almost as an afterthought, she turned back. “Thank you again, Lilah. I’ll be back soon.”
“No rush.”
Belinda appeared so pleased that Lilah was delighted.
Except, her sister seemed almost too satisfied. Perhaps there was a man in her life. If so, Lilah couldn’t be happier.
Even if she wanted to cry over her own lost love.
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LILAH JERKED AWAKE when the apartment door opened. “Hey,” she greeted her sister. “How was it?”
Belinda busied herself hanging up her coat. “Great. Thank you so mu—” The last word was swallowed up in a huge yawn. “Sorry. How were the kids?”
“Wonderful, of course. You’ve got two sweethearts there, Bee. You should be proud of them—and yourself.”
Belinda’s face crumpled. “You can’t imagine what that means. I worry all the time—are they getting enough attention because I have to work and I’m so blasted tired all the time? Am I handling all this the best way? I just—” She pressed her lips together. “I long to give them the world, but I can barely make the rent.”
Lilah embraced her sister and rocked slowly, stroking circles on Belinda’s back. “You’re doing a terrific job with them. They’ll be fine, I swear. And if we move in together, I’ll help you out.”
Belinda tensed slightly. “Lilah—”
“But we won’t fret over any of that tonight,” Lilah assured her. “You go get some sleep. I’ll lock up.”
A quick squeeze, and Belinda let go. “Thanks so much—oh. I forgot. I brought the kids a surprise, but I left it in the car. I’ll just go get it—”
“Let me.” Lilah stopped her with a hand on her arm. “You have to work tomorrow. Go on to bed.”
Belinda frowned. “You must be tired, too, after all you did today.”
“I managed a catnap. I’m good.” Lilah snagged Belinda’s car keys from the outside pocket of her purse. “Sweet dreams.”
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“Lilah—”
She halted at the note in her sister’s voice. “What?”
Belinda bit her lip. “Nothing. Just—I love you.”
Lilah smiled. “I love you, too.” Then she was out the door.
The chill wind kicked up, and Lilah bundled her jacket more closely, her mind on solutions to her sister’s dilemma. She threaded her way between cars, searching for where Belinda had parked—
A big hand grabbed her shoulder; another clapped over her mouth.
She yelped, began to struggle.
“Lilah, don’t. It’s okay. It’s me.”
Jake?
Then she was spun around, too swiftly to register anything—
But his lips on hers. A kiss unlike any she’d had in—
Ever.
Her heart fluttered. He felt so wonderful. So familiar and dear.
She broke away. “What are you doing here?”
That slashing grin that had charmed her for too many years still wielded magic. “Coming for you.” Before she could react, he swung her into his arms and strode across the pavement.
“Wait—I can’t. Belinda—”
“Is right behind you,” said another familiar voice. “My keys, please?”
Lilah glanced between the two of them. Glared at her. “Traitor.”
Belinda shrugged. “You two needed to talk.”
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“I’ve tried that.” Lilah started to struggle again.
But Jake had always been strong—and now he was determined. “Uh-uh, lover. Just hand her the keys.”
Lilah closed her fingers tightly around them and hugged them to her chest. “Why should I?”
“Because I’m bigger.” But in the glow of the mercury vapor lamps, she saw what she couldn’t before—that he was more worried than his confident tone would convey.
Her heart skipped just a little. Had she finally gotten through to him?
“Bully,” she grumbled without heat.
“Harpy.” But he grinned. “Please, Lilah.” He looked sideways at Belinda, then bent nearer. “I have plans. I think you’ll like them.” A pause. “At least, I hope you will.”
Wasn’t his focus fully on her as she’d wished for so long? Didn’t she love him to distraction?
Yes and yes.
But would anything change, really? To be hesitant to trust this man was horrible, but the fear was real. “This isn’t a game, Jake.”
His brown eyes had never been softer. Sadder. “I know.”
Their gazes held for endless moments. She was terrified at the distance she felt.
He was a good man. He was here. Shouldn’t that count?
She realized he’d read her doubts, was about to set her down. Abruptly she decided. “Here—” She tossed the keys to her sister without a backward glance.
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Threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his throat.
For a second, he bowed his head to hers, and she felt him shudder. “Thank God.”
She thought she heard him tell her sister goodbye, but she paid attention to nothing but the feel of this man she’d missed so much, the scent that had accompanied her into dreams for the better part of her life.
And when he settled her into the passenger seat of his car, she clung for a moment before letting go.
“God, babe, I am so sorry,” he said.
He kissed her again, then rounded the car.
SHE SEEMED SMALL, sitting there in the other seat. He had several inches on her, but her personality was so oversized that she always appeared bigger.
What he wouldn’t do for his old Chevy with the bench seat in front, so they could drive plastered against each other as they’d done when they first dated.
He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Why she was so quiet. He had no idea if she’d like the place he’d found. If he’d brought the right clothes for her.
He hadn’t recognized some of the underwear. The notion that they dressed together so seldom that he didn’t even know she’d bought new lingerie had hit him hard.
What else had he missed about her?
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Suddenly he remembered a step of his plan he’d omitted. He steered to the shoulder of the road, then felt like a fool and almost didn’t stop.
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“What is it?”
He summoned a smile. Waggled his eyebrows as though he actually felt playful. “Turn around.”
“What?” She frowned.
“I skipped a step. Look out the side window.”
She stared at him for a second, and he faltered. “Never mind.” He reached for the steering wheel, but she grabbed his hand.
Granted him a tiny smile, then faced the door as he’d asked.
He hesitated, less sure of himself than he’d been since high school.
But she was here, and she was going along with him. For both their sakes, he had to conquer his nerves and pull this off. He drew the scarf from his pocket, looped it over her head and fastened it around her eyes, tying it as carefully as he’d ever knotted a suture.
The hitch in her breathing got to him.
He pressed a kiss to that sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder to remind them both of better days.
A gasp gave him hope. His tongue slicked over her in a slow, heated lick.
She shivered.
He smiled against her skin. Barely resisted the urge to swing her around and crush her to him.
But this was a seduction. He would go slow if it killed both of them.
Which felt entirely possible.
“Sit back.” He breathed the words over her flesh and watched her shiver again. Then he drew out the second
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scarf gently and tied her wrists together. “Trust me, love,” he said, and traced his tongue over her lips. “Please.”
She swallowed visibly. Her mouth parted just a little. Jake had to restrain himself from clutching her to him again, but he managed. Shifted back into his seat. And drove into the night.
THE CAR STOPPED.
She didn’t know where they were. How long they’d traveled in silence. The air practically zinged with nerves.
She hadn’t felt like this even the first night they’d made love, though she’d certainly been off balance. Her eagerness back then had overcome any anxiety except whether he’d find her beautiful.
He’d been gorgeous. Lanky and with the pallor of a med student who spent all his time indoors studying, though he’d been an avid cyclist before his life got swallowed up in his calling.
They’d both been dead broke, and his apartment was more of a hovel, a small space in the attic of an old house near the university.
She hadn’t cared one whit. She’d been in love, crazy over him. Positive that they belonged together.
But now, she had no idea where they were or what he intended. He’d blindfolded her. Seized control.
However adventurous their sex life had been, this was somehow different. He was different.
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The door snicked open. She had the sense of light at the edges of her blindfold, quickly shuttered by the closing of the door.
Then she waited. Yearned. Her skin literally ached for his touch.
Suddenly her seat belt vanished. His arms slipped beneath her bottom, behind her back. Lifted her, then whirled around and around until she was dizzy.
Jake, she almost said, but she didn’t want to disturb… whatever this was.
Amazing, for sure. Arousing, yes, unbelievably so. To be helpless in the arms of a man you knew and loved but couldn’t predict—
She shivered. Moaned. Let her head fall back in abandon. Felt him nuzzle inside her bodice, his warmth electrifying, the sharp edge of promise unnerving…de-licious.
She craved more. She was half out of her mind with longing to touch him. To torture him as he—
A hum deep in his chest, a very sexy growl. The wet shock of his tongue trailing a path down the valley between her breasts.
She arched. All but writhed. “Jake.” She lifted her bound hands helplessly. “Let me see.”
“Uh-uh” was the reply as he licked his way toward her nipple.
And as he did, he began walking. Her feet bumped something solid. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Where are we?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he 163
said. The arm beneath her thighs twisted, then she heard a door open.
And slam once they were through. Jake strode with her across a wide space. She heard metal clicks, then felt the cool night breeze again.
Finally he set her down. Untied her wrists and removed her coat. Wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’ll keep you warm,” he murmured. Then his breath whispered against her throat, his mouth cruising over her skin while his hands traveled her body. Fingers dipped inside the waistband of her jeans, tore at the snap, pulled down the zipper.
She gasped. “Jake—” If she didn’t get her hands on him, she’d die.
“Not yet.” Those long fingers glided over her belly, up beneath her bra, then around until the hooks were unfastened, her breasts were freed—
Cool night air kissed her flesh as her jeans slid down her legs, her shirt buttons opened—
Then Lilah was naked. Outside. In the night.
With no way to know whether they were alone or someone was watching. Never in her life had she felt anything like this.
She trembled with the thrill of it.
Then his jeans pressed to her bare bottom. Lilah gasped, and squirmed against him. “Jake—” She was nearly whimpering now.
His fingers were everywhere, teasing a gossamer trail over her navel and down—
They slipped inside her, and she lost it. Came, violently.
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“Good.” His voice was strained but proud. “Remember me. Remember us, Lilah.”
She heard the rasp of his zipper, then felt the heat of him against her. He bent his knees, spread her legs. Thrust inside in a long, smooth stroke.
Lilah’s breath caught. They both stilled. Jake held her close. “Lilah…” Husky, desperate, his voice was so dear that tears sprang to her eyes.
She lifted her arms, first one, then the second. Wrapped them around his neck. She wanted to turn in his arms nearly as much as she feared breaking the spell.
Then Jake began to move, and all thought fled. Seeking fingers, the scrape of teeth, the lick of his tongue…all played harmony to the driving beat of him inside her, so beloved yet so new. She undulated against him, relishing every second of the shock, the surprise, the forbidden.
“I love you,” he murmured. “Love you so.”
Before she could respond, he fastened his teeth to her vulnerable nape—
She soared and he joined her. Stars burst behind her eyes.
Silence pulsed between them. Then he spoke. “Lilah, I’m so sorry.” Breathing heavily, he gripped her with near desperation. Buried his face in her hair. “Don’t leave me. You are my love.”
Her throat thick with sobs, Lilah twisted in the arms of the man she’d adored for more than half of her life. Cradled his face in her hands, and kissed him with all 165
the tenderness in her heart. “I love you, too.” She
wrapped her arms around his neck and held on.
She wept.
And Jake’s broad shoulders shook.
WHEN SHE AWOKE, they were tangled together as they once were every night.
But this time Jake was staring as if memorizing every cell of her. His eyes were sorrowful. Serious, even when he smiled to greet her. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Her voice was hoarse. He’d made her scream, actually scream. She stroked his jaw. “You all right?”
“I’m not sure. You?”
She felt shy, awkward, so she dodged. “That was amazing.” She blinked. “What got into you?”
“You have to ask?” He covered his own discomfort with a grin.
Jake was no more adept at discussing his feelings than any other man, but she couldn’t allow that, not now. Too much was on the line. “I do. Talk to me, Jake.”
He glanced away, then back. Frowned. “What’s happened between us, Lilah? Were you really going to leave me?”
“I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t figure out what else to do.”
“Because of Our Day? I told you I was sorry. I sent you roses. I said I’d clean the mess up.”
“You did,” she said, her voice as heavy as her heart.
“What’s wrong? You didn’t like the roses, did you?”
She raised the sheet, clutched it to her chest.
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“Don’t.” “Don’t what?” “Hide from me.” He pulled her back down, shoved
the sheet away. “This is me, damn it. We don’t conceal
ourselves from each other—at least, we never used to.” “Once we didn’t do lots of things—” She halted. “Keep going. Like what?” Then she got mad. Sat up, scooted around to face
him. “We didn’t spend most nights apart. Sleep in
separate beds.” “We do not.” He sat up, too. She poked him in the chest. “What do you call the
couch in the study, huh? Do you know have any idea
how many times you haven’t come to bed?” “I was trying not to disturb you—” “You jerk.” She leaped from the bed. “I never rest
without you. I don’t like sleeping alone.” She started pacing. “You used to be married to me, not the E.R.” “What?” He followed her. “You’re kidding me. Lilah, I’m just doing my job—”
“You had a job! You left it—left me. Flipped our lives upside down. You turned into an adrenaline junkie, and pretty soon, you didn’t need me anymore.”
He recoiled. “Is that what you think?”
She shoved her hair back from her tear-swollen face. “You weren’t like this before. I just don’t understand why I keep coming up short to your new mistress. What your work gives you that I can’t.”
He stood in the center of the room, gaping at her. “Lilah, you understood why I made the switch.”
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She shook her head. “I don’t. We had plans, Jake, dreams we’d talked about for years. All of a sudden you’ve sold your practice, and despite the fact that we have plenty of money, you don’t choose to spend that time with me after all. Instead you decide to go into trauma where you’ll never have to see me.”
“That’s not fair. I love you. Why would I avoid you?” He closed the distance. “I don’t spend much more time away than I did in my practice, it’s just different hours.”
“You’re wrong. You’re gone all the time, and I’m—”
“What?” He clasped her arms. “Lonely?”
She blinked hard. Tried to get away.
He wouldn’t let her. “You’re missing the kids, aren’t you? They kept you incredibly busy, but now the nest is empty.”
She poked his chest. “Don’t you patronize me. I don’t need my kids to make me complete—” She glared. “Maybe I don’t need you, either—” She yanked away.
But Jake sensed that he had to keep her near, maintain physical contact in order to work through this.
“Let me go. I’d like to get dressed.”
“That’s not a good idea, babe.”
“Release me, Jake.”
“No can do.” Instead he swept her up, carried her not to the bed but to a big overstuffed rocking chair in the corner.
She fought him a little, but he had the advantage and used it. “You want to talk? Fine, but you’ll stay right here to do it.”
“Then I’m getting dressed.” She hunched in his lap.
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“What?”
“I don’t like being naked with you.”
“Why?” He was honestly shocked.
She kept her eyes cast down. “I’m not pretty anymore.”
“Get real.” He chuckled. “Of course you are. Beautiful as ever.”
“Don’t make light of this.”
The pain on her face wiped away his smile. He couldn’t let her put distance—or clothes—between them again. He was forced to peel her open, though, curled like a shrimp as she was. “Lilah, I have watched you give birth to our babies, I’ve held your hair while you tossed your cookies, I’ve been naked with you in nearly every way possible and I just made love to you— pretty fiercely, I might add—when you were only a few minutes younger than you are now. What on earth do you possibly have to hide from me?”
“I don’t know.” She kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “I just don’t— I wish I were still young and everything was smooth and taut.”
He cuddled her and started rocking. “You think I don’t feel the same about myself?”
She snorted. “Guys don’t sag this soon.”
“Lilah, I loved you young and I love you—”
Her head lifted. Her eyes narrowed. “You weren’t going to say old.”
“Of course not.” He hazarded another grin. “Do I look stupid?”
When her mouth twitched, he had the urge to cele169
brate, but they weren’t nearly through yet. “Stella says
I’m a fool. And not indispensable.”
No reaction.
“I never believed I was. I just liked—” He puzzled over it a minute. “Being needed.”
“Yeah,” she said.
He glanced down. “I never thought you needed me, not really.”
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
“Lilah, you’ve been juggling a house and kids and husband and pets and every committee known to man—you take my breath away at all you tackle and how easy you make it seem. You’re the most capable person I’ve ever met.”
“Really?”
“What on earth have I been doing that you don’t realize that?”
“But you’re the one who has the tough job. Even before trauma.”
“Are you kidding me? I have nurses and administrators and techs—there’s a whole team to support my every move. You tackle the world single-handed and whip it into shape daily.”
They stared at each other. “I had no idea,” she said. Then she sat up as though unaware of her nudity. “You admire me.” She seemed stunned.
“Lilah, I love you.”
She waved that off. “That’s different. Admiration means respect.”
He gaped. “If I haven’t convinced you before now
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that I not only adore you but respect you, no wonder you were leaving me.”
She ducked her head. “It broke my heart, but I couldn’t figure out how else to get your attention.” Then she captured his gaze. “I didn’t marry our kids or our house or our social position, Jake. I married you, the man who was deep in debt for student loans, who lived off ramen noodles and rode a bike because he couldn’t afford a car. The possessions that accompanied your success were gravy. I love our kids, of course, but I juggled all of that because it was us. Me and you, a team. And we were supposed to get to be a couple again when the kids left, but instead Bob died, and you left, too.”
“Bob? What’s he got to do with it?”
“After his death, you changed. Almost overnight, you sold your practice, went into trauma. It’s like you became possessed.”
He drew her closer. Shook his head against the tumble of her hair. “Honey, I never meant to desert you. You’re right—losing Bob really made me reevaluate. It’s hard to accept that your time on earth is finite. I wanted my life to mean something. To make a difference to more than vain women.”
“I understand, I do. But isn’t there some way to have that and still have a life together? I would never ask you to give up work you love, but I’m—” She bit her lip. Glanced away.
He grasped her chin and made her face him. “You’re what?”
“Scared,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lose you, and you’re killing yourself right before my eyes.”
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He wasn’t as shocked as he might have been. Have you studied the schedule lately? “I may be too old for trauma.” He couldn’t believe he’d just admitted his worst fear. “But I’m not ready to be useless, Lilah.”
“Oh, Jake…” She cupped his jaw. “We can’t help aging, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have contributions to make.” She kissed him softly. “I’m just greedy for every last day with you I can get.”
He placed his hand over hers. “I’m realizing that I’ve been pressing to keep up with people who are twenty years younger. I haven’t wanted to admit I’m finding it difficult.”
Her smile was sympathy and understanding. “So what do we do now?”
“I’m not sure, exactly.” He pondered. “I could definitely begin by only working the shifts that are on the schedule. I couldn’t cut back yet without burdening the rest of them, but—” He locked his gaze on hers. “If I have to go back to plastics, I will, Lilah. Nothing’s worth losing you.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You won’t. We can figure this out, as long as we’re talking. I just— I miss you, Jake.”
She folded into his arms, fitting perfectly as she always had. “I miss you, too.” He kissed the top of her head. “I am so sorry about Our Day, honey. I’m going to make it up to you, I swear. As a matter of fact—” He scooted to the front of the rocker and rose with her still in his arms. “Let me show you part of how I planned to do it.”
He walked into the living room of the cottage he’d
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had to beg from a colleague. “Close your eyes.” He set her down and began lighting candles. “No peeking.”
He noticed her shiver but wasn’t eager to leave her long enough to get their suitcases. He snatched an afghan from the sofa and wrapped her in it, keeping his arms around her, too. “Okay.”
She opened them, and he tried to see it all through her eyes, the table set for two, the golden glow reflected in crystal and silver, exotic blossoms of gardenia and mimosa, bird of paradise and calla lilies spilling over the center of the table.
“Oh, Jake…”
“The champagne should still be cold, even if the ice is melted. I meant to woo you first, not ravish you.”
Her head tilted to his. “I liked being ravished.”
“Yeah?”
“A definite wow.” She revolved in his arms. Let the afghan drop. “As a matter of fact…”
“Oh, babe, don’t look at me like that.”
“Okay.” Instead she rose to her toes and didn’t look at him at all. She was too busy kissing him, stroking him.
“We’re not going to get any cold champagne at this rate.”
“I don’t care.” She trailed kisses across his jaw, down his throat.
“Um, is there anything else we should talk about first?”
“Uh-uh,” she murmured as her mouth traveled lower.
“So…we’re good? You’re not leaving—” he gasped as her lips did wicked things to him “—me?”
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She paused in her torture. “We’re good.” She smiled the old Lilah smile, the one that told him all was right with the world. “Real good.” She winked, then returned to her task.
His eyes nearly rolled back in his head. “Lilah—”
Before he lost it completely, he bent, scooped her up. Grabbed the champagne on his way to the bed. “It’s after midnight. Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”
Lilah laughed. Shifted and clamped her legs around his waist.
He stumbled, nearly dropped the bottle and her both.
But he wouldn’t, not again. He’d almost lost her. She was his woman, the best part of his life. He was here to stay.
And she wasn’t running anywhere. “By the way, forget the circus,” he murmured against her lips. “Unless you take me with you.”
She chuckled. Kissed him hard.
And held on tight.