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Looking at him proved to be hazardous. She was dismayed to feel tears stinging her eyes. Self-consciously she brushed them off her cheeks.
“Something wrong?”
“No, I’m...” She hesitated to tell him, but decided to take the plunge. The time for secrets between them was long past. Bravely she lifted her eyes back to his. “I’m just very glad to see you.”
He didn’t touch her, although he might just as well have. His gaze was as possessive as a caress. It passed down her form lying beneath the thin blanket, then moved back up again. It lingered on her breasts, which were seductively outlined by the clinging silk nightgown.
She nervously raised her hand and fiddled with the lace neckline. “The, uh, the gown was waiting here for me when I checked in.”
“It’s nice.”
“Anything is better than long johns.”
“You look all right in long johns.”
Her smile wavered. He was here. She could see him, smell his soapy clean smell, hear his voice. He was wearing new clothes—slacks and a casual shirt and jacket. But they weren’t responsible for his distant attitude. She didn’t want to acknowledge it, but it was undeniably there—as obvious to her as an unbreachable wall.
“Thank you for coming to see me,” she said for lack of anything better. “I asked my father to locate you and tell you where I was.”
“Your father didn’t tell me anything. I found you on my own.”
She took heart. He’d been looking for her. Maybe all night. Maybe while she’d lain sleeping a drug-induced sleep, he’d been combing the city streets in a frantic search.
But then he shot down her soaring hopes by adding, “It was in the morning paper that you were here. I understand that a plastic surgeon is going to correct the stitches I made.”
“I defended your stitching.”
He shrugged indifferently. “It worked, that’s all I care about.”
“That’s all I care about, too.”
“Sure.”
“It is!” She sat up straighter, angry over his righteous condescension. “It wasn’t my idea to come straight here from the airport. It was my father’s. I would rather have gone home, checked my mail, watered my plants, slept in my own bed.”
“You’re a big girl. Why didn’t you?”
“I just told you. Father had made these arrangements. I couldn’t demand that he change them.”
“How come?”
“Don’t be obtuse. And why shouldn’t I want this scar removed?” she cried angrily.
He glanced away, gnawing on the corner of his mustache. “You should. Of course you should.”
Slumping with misery, Rusty settled back on her pillows and blotted her eyes with the corner of the sheet. “What’s wrong with us? Why are we behaving like this?”
His head came back around. He wore a sad expression, as though her naivete was to be pitied. “You shouldn’t have to go through the rest of your life with that scar on your leg. I didn’t mean to suggest that you should.”
“I’m not talking about the scar, Cooper. I’m talking about everything. Why did you disappear at the airport last night?”
“I was there, in plain sight.”
“But you weren’t with me. I called out. Didn’t you hear me?”
He didn’t answer directly. “You didn’t seem to be lacking attention.”
“I wanted your attention. I had it until we stepped off the airplane.”
