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She’d as much as asked the question of Ellen, who’d shrugged.
“You shopped at all the best stores, Mrs. Adams.”
“Did I?” Joanna had said softly, staring into the mirror.
Maybe she’d forgotten more than the details of her own life, she thought as she reached the bottom of the staircase; maybe she’d forgotten the tenets of high fashion.
She hung on to that thought as she paused in the doorway to the library. She could see David waiting for her before the fireplace, his back to her, one foot up on the edge of the stone hearth, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers.
What a handsome man he was, even from this angle. Those incredible shoulders. Those long legs and that tight bottom…
Her taste in furniture, clothes and hairstyles might be in doubt. But her taste in men seemed to have been impeccable.
David turned around.
“Joanna,” he said.
Color flew into her cheeks.
“David.” She swallowed dryly. “Hello.”
His gaze swept over her. She waited for him to say something complimentary about her appearance but he didn’t. She studied his face, trying to read his expression, but it was like trying to read the face of a statue.
“Well,” she said brightly, “how was your day?”
“It was fine,” he said evenly. “How was yours?”
Her heart sank. They were going to have another one of their standard, oh-so-polite conversations. How was your day? he’d asked and she was supposed to say it was fine, it was pleasant, it was…
“Dull.”
David’s eyebrows lifted. “Dull?”
“Well, yes. I didn’t do anything.”
His eyes narrowed. “You did something. You went for a walk.”
Her head came up. “Ah, I see Hollister reported in, did he?”
“Hollister was only following orders.”
“You mean, you told him to spy on me?”
David ran his hand through his hair. “It’s been a long day, Jo. Let’s not quarrel.”
“Do we?” Joanna said quickly. “Quarrel, I mean?”
“No,” he said, after a pause, “not really.” It was true. Even their decision to divorce had been reached in a civilized way. No raised voices, no anger…no regrets. “Why do you ask?”
Because at least, if we quarreled, there was something more than this terrible nothingness between us…
She sighed. “No reason. I just wondered.”
“Look, I’m only trying to make sure you don’t overdo.”
She sighed again. “I know.”
“Before you know it, you’ll be phoning up old friends, going to lunch, maybe even attending one or two of those meetings of yours.”
“Yuck.”
“Yuck?” David laughed. “Did you say ‘yuck’?”
She blushed. “I meant to say that, uh, that doesn’t sound very exciting, either.”
Why had she let the conversation take this turn? David was watching her with a sudden intensity that made her feel like a mouse under the eye of a hungry cat. There was no way she could explain what she felt to him when she couldn’t even explain it to herself.
“Don’t pay any attention to me,” she said with a little laugh. “I’ve probably been lying around feeling sorry for myself for too long.” She turned away from him, searching desperately for a diversion. Her gaze fell on the built-in bar across the room. “What great-looking hors d’oeuvres,” she said, hurrying toward them. “Cheese, and olives…what’s this?”
“Chèvre,” David said as she picked up a tiny cracker spread with a grainy white substance and popped it into her mouth.
“Chèvre?”
“Goat cheese.”
Joanna stared at him. “Goat cheese?” Her nose wrinkled.
“Yeah. You love the stuff.”
She shuddered, snatched up a cocktail napkin, and wiped her mouth.
“Not anymore.”
He grinned. “It’s even worse than it sounds. That’s not just goat cheese, it’s goat cheese rolled in ash.”
“Ash?” she repeated in amazement. “As in, what’s on the end of a cigarette?”
His grin widened. “I don’t think so, but does it really matter?”
“You’re right, it doesn’t. Ash. And goat cheese.” She laughed. “What will they think of next?”
“Chocolate-dipped tofu,” he said solemnly. Her eyes widened and he held up his hand. “Scout’s honor. It was part of the buffet at a business dinner last week. The Halloran merger. You remem… A deal I’ve been working on.”
Her smile slipped, but only a little. “And how was the chocolate-dipped tofu?”
“I didn’t touch the stuff. Morgana tried it and said it was great, but you know…” He frowned. “Sorry, Jo. I keep forgetting. Morgana is my P.A.”
“Your…?”
“Personal Assistant.”
Joanna nodded. “Oh. And she—she went to this dinner with you?”
“Of course.” He hesitated. “She’d like to stop by and see you. She’s wanted to, ever since the accident, but I told her I wasn’t sure if you were up to seeing visitors, even when they’re old friends.”
Old friends? A woman named Morgana, who spent more time with her husband than she did? His assistant? His personal assistant?
“That was thoughtful of you, David. Please tell—Morgana—that I need just a little more time, would you?”
“Of course.”
Joanna smiled at him, her lips curving up softly, and he realized that she’d inadvertently wiped away all that bright red lipstick she favored and he despised. Her mouth was full, pink and softly inviting, and he suddenly wondered what she’d do if leaned down and kissed it. He wouldn’t touch her; he’d just kiss her, stroke the tip of his tongue across that sweet, lush flesh…
Hell!
“Well,” he said briskly, “how about a drink?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he poured some bourbon for himself and sherry for Joanna. Her fingers closed around the delicate stem of the glass as he handed it to her.
“To your recovery,” he said, raising his glass.
She echoed the sentiment, then took a sip of her drink. The pale gold liquid slipped down her throat and she grimaced.
“What’s wrong?” David said. “Has the sherry gone bad?”
“It’s probably just me. This is just a little bit dry for my taste, that’s all.”
He looked at her. “Is it?”
“But it’s good,” she said quickly. “Really.”
“Come on, Jo. I can see that you don’t like it.”
She hesitated. “But…but I used to,” she said in a suddenly small voice, “didn’t I?”
“Tastes change,” he said with studied casualness. “I’ll pour you something else. What would you prefer?”
A picture popped instantly into her
head. A bottle, dark amber in color, with a red and white label…
“Jo?”
She smiled uneasily. “I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but…I just thought of something called Pete’s Wicked Ale.”
David went very still. “Did you?”
“Isn’t that crazy? Who’d name something… What’s the matter?”
“You used to drink Pete’s.” His voice was low, almost a whisper. “A long time ago, before you decided that sherry was…that you preferred sherry to ale.”
Joanna began to tremble. “Oh, God!”
“Easy.” David took the glass from her hand. He led her to the sofa and helped her sit. “Put your head down and take a deep breath.”
“I’m…I’m OK.”
“You’re not OK, you’re as white as a sheet.”
“I just…what’s happening to me, David?” She lifted her face to his and stared at him through eyes that had gone from violet to black.
“You’re remembering things, that’s all.”
“It’s more than that.” Her voice shook. “I feel as if I’m trapped inside a black tunnel and—and every now and then I look up and I see a flash of light, but it never lasts long enough for me to really see anything.”
“Dammit, Joanna, put your head down!” David put his hand on her hair and forced her face toward her knees. “I knew this would happen if you went sailing off as if nothing had happened to you.”
“I’m not sick!” She shoved at his hand and leaped to her feet. “Didn’t you listen to anything I said? I’m—I’m lost, David, lost, and I can’t…I can’t…”
Her eyes rolled up into her head and she began to slump to the floor. David cursed, caught her in his arms, and strode from the dining room.
“Ellen,” he bellowed. “Mrs. Timmons!”
The housekeeper and the maid came running. When Mrs. Timmons saw David hurrying up the stairs with Joanna in his arms, her hands flew to her mouth.
“Oh, my Lord, Mr. David, what happened?”
“Ellen, you get some ice. Mrs. Timmons, you call the doctor. Tell him my wife’s fainted and I want him here now.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best but it’s after hours and—”
“Just get him, dammit!” David shouldered open the door to Joanna’s room. Her eyes fluttered open as he lay her down gently on the bed.
“David?” she whispered. “What…what happened?”
