The Only Solution(28)

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."