The Second Mrs. Adams

“Oh, but…” But I’m not tired, she’d almost said.

But being tired had nothing to do with it. He wanted her out of the way for a while; she could hear it in his voice. They’d only just arrived and already he was sorry he’d brought her.

Joanna nodded. “Good idea,” she said with a false smile. “You lead the way.”

There were three closed doors upstairs. One opened onto a bathroom, one onto a steep flight of steps that led to the attic. The third gave way on a spacious bedroom with exposed beams and a fireplace, dominated by a massive canopied bed…

One bedroom? Only one?

Joanna stopped just inside the doorway. “Oh,” she said. “I never thought…”

David understood. “It’s not a problem,” he said quickly. “There’s another bedroom downstairs. I’ll be perfectly comfortable there. You go on, Jo. Take a nap. When you get up, we’ll go for a drive. I’ll show you a little bit of New England. Who knows? Maybe something you see will jog your memory.”

“Sure,” she said brightly, “that’ll be fun.”

She shut the door after him. Then she walked to the window, curled onto the wide sill, and stared out at the rolling hills dressed in the tender green of late Spring and wondered why in heaven’s name she couldn’t just bring herself to ask him, straight out, why they didn’t share a bed or even a room.

And if, in fact, they ever had.

* * *

Joanna did nap, after a while, and when she awoke, she was amazed to see that there were long shadows striping the room.

She got up, padded across the narrow hall to the bathroom, washed her hands and her face. In the process, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Ugh, what a mess! Her hair needed combing, and a touch of lipstick wouldn’t hurt. And this silly outfit… There was a wall-length closet in the bedroom, and David had said something cryptic about her not needing to bring anything with her. Maybe there was something in the closet that would look and feel better than this.

She made a soft exclamation of surprise when she looked into the closet. It was filled with clothing, all things she must have bought and all very different from what hung in her closet back in New York. There were jeans and corduroy pants, worn soft and fine with age and washing. Cotton shirts, and sweaters. Sneakers and walking shoes, hiking boots and a pair of rubber things that were as ungraceful as anything she’d ever seen but would surely keep your feet dry and warm in snow.

And there were David’s clothes, too. Jeans, as worn as hers. Boots and shoes, sweaters and flannel shirts…

Joanna’s throat constricted. They had shared this room, then.

This room. And this bed…

“Jo? Are you awake?”

She spun toward the door, and toward his voice just beyond it. “Yes,” she called, and cleared her throat, “yes, David, I am. Just give me a minute and I’ll be down.”

“Take your time.”

Her fingers flew as she pulled off her clothes. She put on jeans, a pale pink cotton shirt and a pair of gently beat-up leather hiking boots that felt like old friends as soon as she got them on. Then she tied a navy blue pullover sweater around her shoulders and brushed her hair back from her face. She found a tube of pale pink lipstick in a tray on the maple dresser, put some on her mouth, and went downstairs.

“Hi,” she said brightly, as she came into the living room.

David turned around. “Hi, yourself.” His smile tilted as he looked at her. “Well,” he said, “I see you found your clothes.”

“Uh-huh.” She caught her lip between her teeth. “David? What did you mean about me shedding my skin in Connecticut?”

His face closed. “It was a stupid thing to have said.”

“But what did you mean?”

“Only that I knew you had a closet filled with stuff to wear.”

“Yes, but—”

“What do you feel like having for dinner?”

“Dinner? I don’t know. I haven’t even thought about—”

“There’s a place half an hour or so away that’s supposed to have excellent French cuisine.”

She laughed. “French cuisine? Here?”

David smiled. “We’re not exactly on the moon, Jo.”

“Oh, I know. I just meant… I know you’re going to think I’m crazy…”

“What?”

“No. Never mind. French is fine.” She smiled and gave a delicate shudder. “Just so long as they don’t serve—what was that stuff? Goat cheese?”

He laughed, leaned back against the wall, and tucked his hands into the rear pockets of his jeans.

“Goat cheese will be the least of your worries,” he said. “Go on, tell me what you were going to say.”

She took a deep breath and somehow, even before she spoke, he knew what was going to come out of her mouth.

“You’ll laugh, I know, but when I looked in the freezer before… David, what I’d really love for dinner is a hamburger.”

* * *

It was a mistake.

The whole damned thing was a mistake, starting with the minute they’d left Manhattan straight through to now, sitting here on the rug beside the fireplace in the living room with his wife, his beautiful wife, watching her attack an oversize burger with total pleasure while smoky music poured like soft rain from the radio.

What in hell was he doing? Why was he pretending to listen to what she was saying when he couldn’t hear a word because he was too busy thinking how the light of the fire danced on her lovely face?

He forced himself to concentrate. She was telling him a story about one of the woman at Bright Meadows who’d been convinced she’d been born on the planet Pluto.

“…know I shouldn’t laugh,” she said, licking a drop of ketchup from her finger, “but, oh, David, if you could have heard how serious she was…”

He laughed, because he knew she expected it. But he wasn’t laughing inside, where it counted, because he was too busy admitting that the best thing that could come out of this weekend was that Joanna would remember nothing.

Heaven help him, he was falling head over heels in love with her all over again.

“…asked me where I was born and when I said, well, I couldn’t really say because…David? What’s the matter?”

David rose to his feet.

“Listen, Joanna…”

Listen, Joanna, we’re leaving. That was what he’d intend

ed to say. We’re gonna get out of here while the getting’s good.

But that wasn’t what he said at all.

“Jo,” he said, and held out his hand, “will you dance with me?”

Her eyes met his. Color, soft as the pink of a June sunrise, swept into her cheeks. She smiled tremulously, put her hand in his and got gracefully to her feet.

He led her to the center of the room and put his arms around her. There was no pretense, no attempt to pretend that dancing was really what this was all about. Instead, he drew her close against his hard body, his hands linked at the base of her spine. She stiffened and he thought she was going to resist. But then she gave a soft, sweet sigh, looped her arms around his neck and let herself melt into the music and his embrace.

It was wonderful, holding her like this. Feeling the sweet softness of her breasts against his chest, the warmth of her thighs against his. His hand dropped from the small of her back and curved over her bottom. He lifted her against his growing hardness so that she could know what was happening to him.

Joanna made a little sound as she felt him pulse against her. The knowledge that he wanted her was like a song drumming in her blood. He’d wanted her last night, too, but not like this. What had happened in the car had been about lust but this…

This was about love.

She was sure of it, as sure as she could ever be about anything. She loved David, she knew that with all her heart. And he loved her. She could feel it in his every caress.

She drew back in his arms and looked deep into her husband’s eyes.

“David?” she whispered.

“Gypsy,” he said softly, “my Gypsy,” and then his mouth was on hers and his hands were on her breasts and he was drawing her down to the rug in front of the fireplace and into a drowning whirlpool of passion.

CHAPTER TEN

THE wind sighing through the trees and the rain pattering gently against the roof woke David from sleep.

He lay unmoving, struggling to get his bearings in a darkness broken only by the flickering light of the fire on the hearth. Then he felt the sweet warmth of Joanna’s body curled into his, smelled the fragrance of her hair spilled across his shoulder, and joy filled his heart.