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Lightning slashed across the sky, illuminating the ridge near the silver mine, the ridge where he’d first discovered how exquisite making love to Tessa could be. There had been women before and since, of course, but none of those brief experiences had been as soul-jarring as that one suspended moment in time when he’d made love to Tessa Kramer.
Angry with the turn of his thoughts, he yanked down the shade to blot out the picture, but it snapped back up again and the ridge was there again, knifing upward against the sky. He’d been a fool to return to this damned place; he’d known it and still he’d come back.
Tessa was just upstairs, lying in his parents’ wedding bed of all places.
How, he wondered, fire burning hot in his loins, would he get through the night?
Chapter Three
As the first streaks of dawn filtered through her open bedroom window, Tessa tossed back the covers on the old brass bed. She’d barely slept a wink. Because of Denver.
“You’re a fool,” she muttered to herself as she tugged on a pair of jeans and buttoned her work shirt. Plaiting her red-blond hair away from her face, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and grimaced as she snapped a rubber band around the end of her braid. “You don’t love him anymore,” she tried to convince the hazel-eyed woman in the mirror. “And he never loved you—so just get through the next week and pray that he’ll leave.”
An old pain spread through her and she set her brush on the bureau. Denver had left before. Without a word. She could remember that night as vividly as if it had been twelve hours before.
* * *
“I want to see him!” Tessa demanded, planting herself squarely in front of the information desk of the hospital. For five days she’d been thwarted by the hospital staff, but no more. Though her letter had been returned unopened, her gift of flowers sent back, her visits refused, she wasn’t about to be put off. Denver was somewhere in this hospital and she intended to see him.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Kramer, but Mr. McLean is to have no visitors,” the nurse said, her mouth compressed firmly, her spine as rigid as the crease in her white uniform.
“I know his brother has seen him!”
“Colton McLean is family.”
“But so am I,” Tessa lied, persevering despite the woman’s uncompromising stare. “I’m going to be his wife. I’m his fiancée!”
The nurse glanced down at Tessa’s ringless left hand. “I’m sorry, Ms. Kramer. Doctor’s orders.”
Desperate, Tessa said, “Then let me talk to the doctor.”
The nurse hedged, then picked up the phone at the desk. A few seconds later, Tessa heard the page. “Dr. Williams. Dr. Brandon Williams to the main lobby.”
“Thank you,” Tessa said, unable to sit on one of the cold plastic couches that lined the reception area. She paced instead, walking a worn path between a potted palm tree and a magazine rack. “Come on, come on,” she whispered, glancing at her watch.
The seconds ticked by, and finally a thin man with sharp features, wire-rimmed glasses and thinning gray hair swept into the lobby. Wearing a white doctor’s coat and carrying a clipboard, Dr. Brandon Williams was the epitome of authority.
“I’m Tessa Kramer,” Tessa said, extending her hand.
He shook it weakly, then crossed his arms over the clipboard. “I understand you want to see Denver McLean.”
“I’m his fiancée.”
Dr. Williams’s expression clouded. “I didn’t know he was engaged,” he said slowly, obviously doubting her.
“It’s, uh, recent.”
He shifted uncomfortably from one soft-leather sole to the other. “Listen, Ms. Kramer, you have to understand that Denver has gone through not only physical but emotional trauma,” he said patiently.
“I realize that.”
“He’s very confused right now. Until the surgery—”
“Surgery!” she repeated, gasping.
“Cosmetic surgery,” he assured her quickly. “But until he’s convalesced completely, he doesn’t want to see anyone.”
“Anyone?” she asked, willing the horrid words over her tongue, “or just me?”
