The back steps of the Tudor house hadn't been built with strollers in mind, and it was a bit of a job to maneuver the vehicle up and inside. She was startled, however, when the door was opened for her. "There you are," Mack said. "I was beginning to wonder why I couldn't raise an answer anywhere."
"What are you doing home on Wednesday afternoon?" Wendy felt a bit breathless; she tried to tell herself that she must have walked farther and faster than she'd realized.
He smiled and started to unbutton her coat, almost as if she'd been Rory's age. "I got tired of paperwork. I brought it home with me, of course, but at least the scenery's different. Mrs. Morgan doesn't seem to be anywhere around, either."
"She went to the supermarket. And Mr. Morgan dropped her off and then took my car to have the oil changed. Anything else you'd like to know?"
He turned her around and slid her coat off. "No, and I wasn't asking for a report. The house just felt lonely, that's all." His voice was matter-of-fact.
There was absolutely nothing about what he'd said, and especially how he'd said it, to cause her to get the quivers. He'd merely come home to work for the afternoon, where he wouldn't be interrupted.
She should be getting used to this by now. He wasn't saying or doing anything off-limits or presumptuous. He didn't even kiss her goodbye every morning – and it was hardly fair to call a casual peck on the cheek a kiss, anyway. And though he came into her room almost every night, there was always a good reason, and he never stayed long. She just made it a point these days not to get into bed until after he'd gone.
The only blessing was he didn't seem to realize how the merest touch seemed to send electrical impulses through every nerve. And that, Wendy reflected, was exactly how she wanted to keep it. She just needed a little more time to get used to this strange situation. In the meantime, the more light-hearted and teasing she could be, the better.
"I'll tell Mrs. Morgan you miss her," she said.
Mack lifted Rory from the stroller and grinned. "Of course I miss her. I haven't had lunch."
"Neither have I, but I think I can manage to put something together."
Rory nestled her head into Mack's shoulder and gave an enormous yawn. He looked at the baby speculatively. "I'd guess that means it's time for a nap, sprout."
Wendy nodded and touched Rory's cheek. "Have a good rest, darling. And be sure to tell Daddy about your new tooth."
Mack slid a fingertip into Rory's mouth. "Has she got a new – ouch!"
Wendy tried to smother her smile.
By the time he came down again she had set two places at the table in the sunny breakfast nook, and she was dishing up steaming bowls of Mrs. Morgan's homemade vegetable soup. On a board beside her plate was a big loaf of crusty brown bread, and nearby was a round of cheese. "It's not grand," she said.
Mack held her chair. "But a whole lot better than average."
Wendy cut into the loaf of bread and handed him the first slice.
Mack buttered it and added, "I have to go out of town next week."
Wendy's knife paused halfway down the loaf. "Oh." Her voice was very small. She caught herself just a moment too late, after interest sparkled to life in his eyes. "We'll miss you," she said, almost primly, and finished cutting the slice.
It was true, too. She would miss him, and so would Rory. Though the baby's reaction to Mack was never quite as all-encompassing as the way she greeted Wendy, she had a special smile reserved just for him. He was far more involved in Rory's daily care than Wendy had ever expected; at least half the time it was Mack who answered the early-morning summons from the nursery as the baby welcomed a new day with bright-eyed enthusiasm.
Still, Wendy knew it wasn't just his help she would miss, but moments like this. Something about that admission nagged at her, and rather than think about it she asked quickly, "How long will you be gone?"
"Just a few days. Why don't you come with me? It's Phoenix again."
Delight surged through her at the thought of going home, even for just a few days. To bask in warm sunshine, and see palm trees and cactus instead of this everlasting gray landscape …
Mack cut a wedge from the cheese and offered her the plate. "You'll want to sort through the things in your apartment yourself, I'm sure."
She hadn't had a chance to consider that yet. Her apartment was just as she'd left it two weeks ago, when she'd intended to be back in a few days. The rest of her clothes had to be packed, all her possessions sorted, the furniture disposed of or arrangements made to move it.
Mack's suggestion made perfect sense, of course. Keeping the apartment was a waste; she might as well go with him now and take care of the loose ends of her life. It was depressing to think about all that work, but it had to be done.
But the prospect of work wasn't what made her feel sad and irritable, it was the fact that he had only suggested she come with him because the apartment needed to be closed up. For a moment there, when she had thought he truly wanted her to come, just for herself...
It isn't the idea of going home that appeals to you, Wendy, she thought. It's going with him.
The fact was, she was already at home – and as long as Mack was near, she always would be.
The realization hit her with the weight of a hammer. She had convinced herself that only the baby mattered, but Rory had been a convenient excuse to let Wendy do what she wanted, what she had managed to keep secret even from herself – to be Mack's wife. She had married him for Rory's sake, but she loved him because he was Mack.
The sensation which coursed through her at his every touch was not born of discomfort or unfamiliarity – it was attraction and desire. And it wasn't going to go away, because with every touch she wanted more.
When had this happened? Her original active dislike of him hadn't lasted long, of course. It had been replaced very soon by grudging admiration for the way he had won Rory's affection. But when had resentful respect turned to fondness, and then to love? And how had Wendy managed to blind herself so completely that she hadn't even suspected it was happening?
Mack said, "I'm afraid I'll be tied up with some business dinners in the evenings, too."
Wendy had to drag her attention back to him. "Of course."
"If you don't want to suffer through those, I understand. To tell the truth, I'd avoid them myself if I could."
She wouldn't mind, no matter how boring the business, as long as she could be with him. But she could hardly say anything of the sort. And he was giving her a very easy excuse, almost as if he hoped she'd take it. "I'll have plenty to keep me busy." The words were like ashes in her mouth.
He nodded. "Mother's nurses will be happy to look after Rory, unless you'd rather leave her here. In that case we'll just borrow a nurse, and Mrs. Morgan can handle the rest."
"You mean, not take Rory with us?"
"If I have to fly with her again before she turns eighteen, I'll give serious thought to tranquilizers."
Wendy was momentarily diverted. "For you or for Rory?"
"Both. Besides, you can't organize your stuff and look after a baby at the same time."
That was certainly true. Even with no other distractions Wendy would be lucky to get through everything in her apartment in a few days. "I'll talk to Mrs. Morgan."
"Ask if she can take over Saturday night, too. There's a gallery opening we should go to. Since we missed all the New Year's Eve bashes, I'm getting some teasing about why I've been keeping my bride shut away from the world." The sparkle in his eyes invited her to laugh along with him. "I just tell them I'm too jealous to let any other man have a chance with you."
She managed to laugh, but the effort made her feel hollow. How ridiculous it was to think of Mack being jealous over her. He had asked for her loyalty, of course – but that was an entirely different thing.
She had finished her soup; she couldn't sit and play with the empty spoon. And trying to eat another slice of bread would probably choke her. She stood up quickly, mostly so she could turn her back to him for a moment till she managed to get hold of herself again. "Coffee?" she asked.
"Sounds great."
Wendy reached for a paper filter and fit it into the basket. The action reminded her that the pot belonged to Tom Exeter, not to them. "Do you even own a coffee pot, Mack?" she asked. "I do, but it's probably worth shipping back here. There are a million things like that to consider."