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Dear God, this was awful. Love had addled her mind and stolen her memory. She could hardly recall the things she’d been told night before last.
“Brooke, hello!” exclaimed Melinda.
Brooke took a step into the room and pirouetted on her heel. She wore a bubblegum-pink blazer over a wonderful featherlight blush-colored dress. “All Fresh.”
“I’m flattered,” said Melinda. She explained to Genny, “Fresh is the name of my shop.”
“That’s right.” Genny hoped her smile didn’t look like a grimace. “Brooke has told us all about it.”
Brooke was still preening. “I love everything I bought.”
“I’m so pleased.” Melinda glowed and gave a little wave of her left hand. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
Brooke asked, “Genevra, did you fall in the lake?”
Genny laughed. It sounded easy and natural and she was glad about that. “No, but the dogs and I did have a good run around it.” She eased out from under Rafe’s arm. “Excuse me, everyone. I do need to wash the mud off.” She aimed herself at the foyer and she kept going until she was through it, up the stairs, down the hallway and safely in the East Bedroom.
* * *
Genny didn’t hear the shower door open.
She was too busy rinsing the sweat and mud away—and trying not to wonder what Melinda Cartside and Rafe were doing downstairs. Then a hard arm hooked around her waist. She knew it was Rafe, but a shriek of surprise still got away from her as she found herself reeled in tight against his big bare chest.
“Rafe!” She bopped him one, using the heel of her hand against the giant bulge of his shoulder. “You’ll give me a heart attack.”
He gazed down at her, looking all lazy and pleased with himself. Water plastered his hair to his head, ran down his cheeks and off the end of his nose. It also splashed over his broad chest, catching in the dark trail of hair there, making little sparkling rivulets that joined into bigger rivulets and trickled lower. And lower... “I’m happy to be home.” He was definitely glad to see her. It was in his eyes as he looked at her—and there was also that lovely hardness rising against her belly.
Apparently, he would rather be with her than Melinda. That was gratifying. She stared up at him and thought about kissing him, about climbing all over him right then and there, with the shower raining down on them.
But then she thought about all the things they never seemed to talk about. And she decided they really needed to start somewhere.
Why not Melinda?
Oh, please. She knew very well why not Melinda.
What if he really was having an affair with her?
She didn’t want to know.
But then again, she needed to know.
Was this where married people went wrong? They avoided the difficult things and before they knew it, everything was difficult and there was nothing true left between them.
“You’re looking at me strangely.” He dipped his head and pressed his cheek to hers. The water streamed between them, tickling a little. “What?” he whispered into her ear.
She pushed on his shoulders until she could meet his eyes. “I need to tell you something.”
He tried to keep teasing her. “This is sounding much too serious.”
She just gazed at him somberly through the veil of running water. “Well, yes, Rafe. It is rather serious, as a matter of fact.”
He stepped back clear of the shower spray then. His expression was not the least encouraging. The scar pulled harder than ever at the corner of his mouth—but it didn’t come close to making him look as if he might smile. “What is it?” he asked again, this time in a thoroughly discouraging tone.
She backed from under the shower head, too, putting even more distance between them. “Don’t look so worried. It’s not about Edward or the night that he died.”
He leaned near again, but only in order to reach around her and shut off the water. Then he pushed open the shower door and grabbed a fluffy bath sheet from the heated rack on the nearest wall.
She stood silent, watching his unreadable face as he blotted water from her hair and then wrapped the toasty towel around her. “Thank you,” she whispered finally, tucking it, sarong-style, above her breasts.
He said nothing, just grabbed another towel, rubbed himself down quickly and hooked it around his waist. They got out of the shower, went into the bedroom and sat, side by side, between the curtains, on the edge of the bed. She tried to think how to start.
When the silence stretched too long, he said, “All right, then. Whatever it is, tell me. I’m waiting.”
Her insecurities tried to take control. They urged her to get on his case, to take the offensive. She longed to demand hotly, Are you, or have you ever been, Melinda Cartside’s lover?
