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Maybe she shouldn’t have been so hard on him. Maybe she should have …
Who knew what she should have done? She was totally out of her depth with him. She’d only known him since Friday and now they were married and already he was halfway around the world from her. No wonder they were having “issues.”
She hardly knew him. And how would she get to know him, with him there and her here?
All she knew for certain was that she ached with missing him. The lack of him was like a hole in her heart, a vacancy. She needed him with her, to fill that lack. She wanted him there, with her, touching her. She wanted it so bad. She wanted to grab him in her arms and curl herself into him, to hold on so tight, to press herself so close. She wanted to … somehow be inside his skin.
She wanted the scent of him, the sound of his voice, the sweet, slow laugh, the feel of his hands on her, the touch of his mouth …
She was totally gone on him. And he’d better return to her in a week, as he’d promised, or she would do something totally unconstructive. Track him down and shoot him, maybe. Not fatally, of course. Just wing him.
At the office the next day, she got calls from a couple of oil company executives, representatives of two of the companies Rule had said he could deliver to her firm. The calls eased her mind a little.
Okay, he hadn’t been in touch the way he’d promised that he would. But he was moving ahead with his plans to help her get away from Texas gracefully. That was something. A good sign.
Before the end of the day, she’d set up the first getting-to-know-you meetings between her partners and the reps from the oil companies.
Thursday morning at six-thirty, at the exact moment that her alarm went off, the phone rang. Jarred awake, she groped for the alarm first and hit the switch to shut it off.
Then she grabbed the phone. “Hello, what?” she grumbled.
“I woke you.”
Even half-asleep, gladness filled her. “Hello.”
“Are you still angry with me?”
She rolled over onto her back, and raked her sleep-scrambled hair back off her face. “I could ask you the same question.”
“I know I said I’d call every day …” God. His voice. How could it be better, smoother, deeper, just plain sexier than she remembered?
She corrected him. “You said you would call constantly. That’s more than every day.”
“Will you ever forgive me?”
She chuckled, a low, husky sound. She just couldn’t help it. All he had to do was call and her world was rosy again. “I would say forgiveness is a distinct possibility.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” He said it tenderly. And as if he really, really meant it.
“I miss you, Rule. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too.”
“How can I feel this way? I’ve only known you for, what, five days?”
“Four days, nineteen hours and … three minutes—and you’d better miss me. You’re my wife. It’s your job to miss me when we’re apart.”
“Well, I’m doing my job, then.”
“Good.”
“And I’m sorry,” she said, “that we argued.”
“I am, too.”
“Those two oil men called yesterday. I set them up with my partners.”
“Excellent.”
