The Millionaire Claims His Wife(24)

"You weren't home often enough for me to worry about getting away from you," Annie said, a little stiffly.

"You could have had your degree by now," he said, wisely deciding it was  the better part of valor to avoid a minefield than to attempt to cross  it. "If you'd taken a concentration in one area, I mean."

"I don't need it." Annie peeled the last potato, put down her knife and  wiped her hands on a towel. "All those horticulture courses paid off." A  note of pride crept into her voice. "Flowers by Annie is a success,  Chase. I've had to hire more people, and I'm thinking of maybe trying my  hand at landscape design."                       
       
           



       

"That's wonderful."

"The truth is, I don't think I ever really wanted a degree. The thought  of taking a bunch of formal classes didn't have any appeal. I just  figured, well, I'd improve myself a little. Learn some stuff. You know."

"You didn't need improving," Chase said. He knew he sounded angry, but  he couldn't help it. The only thing he didn't know was whether he was  angry at Annie or himself. Improve herself? His Annie?

"I did. I just had this high school education..."

Chase dropped his paring knife, clasped her shoulders and turned her to face him.

"You were the valedictorian of your graduating class, dammit! The only  reason you didn't go to college was because we got married, right after  you graduated high school."

"I know. But-"

"We talked about it, remember? We tried to figure out if we could both  go to college and still get married, and we decided we'd never be able  to afford that." His mouth twisted. "So I went. You didn't. You took  those miserable jobs, flipping hamburgers-"

"First, I flipped fish filets," Annie said with a shaky smile. "And then french fries. Hamburgers were a step up."

"Dammit, Annie, you gave up what you could have had, for me. Don't you think I know it?"

"I gave up nothing. I wanted to do it."

"Whatever we had-whatever I have, today-I owe to you."

"You don't owe me anything, Chase. You never did. Don't you understand?"  Annie took a deep breath. "I didn't want a college degree half as much  as I wanted to marry you."

"Yes." Chase's voice roughened. His hands slid up her throat and he  buried them in her hair as he tilted her face to his. "That was all I  could think of, too. Marrying you. Making you mine. So I did the selfish  thing."

"You didn't!"

"I did, dammit!" His eyes searched her face, his gaze brushing her mouth  before lifting again. "I let you give up your hopes and dreams so that I  could have my dream."

"It was important to you. Becoming an engineer, making a success of yourself...."

"My dream was to have you. Only you. And, once I did, to give you the  things you'd missed out on when we first got married, because you'd had  to make so many sacrifices."

"They weren't sacrifices," Annie said, as the tears rose in her eyes. "I loved you, Chase. I wanted to help you succeed."

"And I only wanted to make you proud of me."

They fell silent.

If only I'd known, Annie thought...

If only I'd understood, Chase thought...

Was it too late? he wondered. Could you turn back the years? Could that  be something this beautiful, confident woman in his arms might even want  to do? She'd turned into someone else, his Annie, a stranger with a  life of her own.

Was it too late? Annie wondered. Was it possible to roll back time? They  were two different people now, she and this handsome, wonderful man who  had once been her husband. He had moved into a high-powered world that  was eons removed from her quiet country life.

And then, there was Janet Pendleton. The woman Chase was engaged to marry. The woman he loved.

Tears stung Annie's eyes. What an idiot she was! How could she have  forgotten? They'd moved on, the both of them, and Chase had found  someone to replace her, in his heart and in his life.

She swallowed hard. Chase was looking at her so strangely. Oh, how  tempting it was to let herself believe, just for an instant, for a  heartbeat, that he still loved her. But she knew that he didn't. What  she saw in his eyes was regret for the pain they'd caused each other,  and compassion-but not love.

Not anymore.

"Annie." His voice was soft, almost tender. "Annie," he said, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she said quickly. Compassion was one thing, but pity was  another. Pity was the last thing she wanted from Chase. "There's no  point. It's spilt milk, you know?" It wasn't easy, but she smiled. "And  nobody should ever waste tears over spilt milk."

"It's not that simple."

"But it is." Annie spoke quickly, rushing her words, hurrying to keep  him from offering her another apology. What she wanted from him, needed  with all her heart, was something she wouldn't think about, wouldn't  admit to thinking about, even to herself. "It's very simple," she said,  with another little smile. "It looks as if us spending time together was  a good idea, after all."                       
       
           



       

"Yes. I agree."

"If we hadn't, we'd never have gotten this chance to-to make peace with the past."

"Can you forgive me, for hurting you?"

"Of course." It was easier to smile, now that she knew it was the only  choice left to her. "As long as you can forgive me, too, because I  wasn't blameless. And then, we get on with our lives. With-with our new  relationships."

The tiny flame of hope in Chase's heart flickered and died.

"Milton Hoffman." His voice was toneless.

"And your Janet Pendleton. Yes."

Chase could see the radiance in Annie's smile. It lit her eyes. Funny,  but a couple of minutes ago, he'd foolishly let himself think the light  in her eyes was for him.

"We're very fortunate people," she said softly. "Some never find love once but we-we found it twice."

Chase stared at the stranger who had once been his wife. He thought of  pulling her into his embrace and kissing her until that smile for Milton  Hoffman was erased from her lips. He thought of kissing her until all  she could think of was him.

But, in the end, he did what he knew was right.

"That's true," he said, touching his hand to her hair, because he  couldn't keep from doing it. He kept the touch light, though, so that it  matched his smile. "We're very lucky, the both of us."

He let go of her, turned away and reached blindly for a peeled onion.  Annie watched, her heart breaking, as he sliced into it. She felt the  sting of tears again and she scrubbed the back of her hand furiously  over her eyes.

"Damned onions," she said, with a choked laugh. "You're slicing them but I'm suffering. Isn't that silly?"

Chase, lost in his own thoughts, nodded. "Yeah."

"So," she said briskly, "what are we having for supper, anyway? Onion and potato pie?"

Somehow, he forced his attention back to the kitchen, and the mundane  chores they were performing. He smiled, put down the knife, wiped his  hands on the towel and opened the door of the cabinet just over the  sink.

"Voilà," he said, whipping around to face Annie and holding out a small,  round can as if he were a sommelier presenting her with a bottle of  fine wine.

"Tuna? That's it? That's all you could find in this kitchen?"

"There's another half a dozen, right on the pantry shelf."

"I don't believe it. All this, and Mr. Tanaka eats canned tuna?"

"I don't think sushi would have much of a shelf life." Chase grinned. "Less than thrilling, huh?"

"You're sure there isn't anything else?"

"A couple of cans of evaporated milk. A bottle of corn oil. Some soup-"

"Cream of mushroom?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah. I think so."

Annie sighed. "Get me the soup and the evaporated milk, Cooper. Then step aside and let an expert get to work."

"You mean, you can do something clever with this stuff?"

"I can try."

Chase grinned as he plucked the other cans from the shelves, opened them and put them on the counter.

"I should have known. I'd almost forgotten how inventive you were with Spam, the first couple of years after we were married."

"Inventive?" Annie said, as she drained the tuna into the sink.

"Sure. Seems to me I can remember Spam casserole, sautéed Spam, grilled Spam..."

"A can of Spam, a couple of onions and some potatoes."

"Which recipe was that?"

"All of them," Annie said, laughing. She dug around in the shelves  beneath the stove, took out a skillet and put it on a burner. "I kept  giving the same concoction different names, to keep us from going  whacko."