Her hand fell to the side and the stylus clattered against a pencil holder. Andrea turned her head, her green eyes sparking with tears…
And fury.
Raising her hand again, she rammed the keyboard with her stylus and demanded, “Who the hell is Misty?”
Shock nailed his feet to the floor. How the hell could she have stumbled on that name? That person? His thoughts raced about what else she could have discovered or what else she might have done to follow up on her fears. He was a man with too much to hide.
“Misty? I’m not sure what you mean.” He chose his words carefully, unsure of how much she knew and not wanting to feed her a tidbit she hadn’t uncovered.
Andrea nudged the controls on her electric wheelchair, turning to face him more fully. “I’m a lot more computer savvy than I used to be, so don’t bother denying it. You’ve been cruising an Internet dating site, setting up a meeting with a girl named Misty.”
“You seem to have everything figured out.”
He was mad. Truly angry. How in the hell could she believe even for a second that he would cheat on her? There were a million different things his principled, honorable wife could have accused him of that would have been true. But this—not ever.
His nostrils flared and his pulse throbbed in his temple.
“I can’t believe you aren’t even going to try and deny it.”
“And I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”
“Do you think I want to believe this? This is killing me, you bastard.”
He knelt in front of her, not to be in a position of pleading or supplication, but to bring himself eye-to-eye with her so she could see just how deeply her accusation cut. Andrea wouldn’t appreciate groveling. She would mistake it for pity.
So Brett stared into green eyes spitting fire right back at him. Memories of their marriage before the accident scrolled through his mind. How she’d charged through life, even charged right over him when she was angry. And she hadn’t lost an ounce of that fight even now.
“I’m going to tell you this once. I am not screwing around. You are everything I have ever wanted in a wife, and more woman than I can even handle. Believe me or don’t. I will not beg you to trust me.”
He shoved to his feet and turned to leave.
“Brett. Wait.” Her words were tight. She wasn’t over her anger, but then neither was he.
Stopping, he still didn’t turn. He struggled to rein in his temper, reminding himself that sex was a sensitive subject for Andrea since the skiing accident.
Did he miss their old life? Hell yes. He wanted Andrea healthy again, and was willing to do anything to make that happen. But he thought they’d worked through the whole physical-intimacy issue. He’d told her it was an invitation to be more inventive and she’d taken up the challenge as firmly as he had. They had a full—although different—sex life.
And he wasn’t willing to give that or her up because he’d been a dumb ass and used his home computer for some of his correspondence, which would ultimately make their dreams possible.
Thank God she hadn’t stumbled on anything worse. His thumb drives with lists of names and contacts were safely locked away at work, with an emergency stash of getaway cash. Just in case.
“Yes?” he said, half glancing over his shoulder.
Her chin tipped. God, the woman had an expressive face, every nuance of her anger, confusion and pain shouting from the fine-boned features he’d loved for fifteen years. “Brett, don’t play word games with me. There’s a difference between screwing around and having an emotional affair. It’s clear from the emails that you haven’t met in person yet.”
Her quick brain turned him on every bit as much as her beautiful body. He let himself smile for the first time since she’d hurled the inconceivable accusation at him. “I am not having an emotional affair with anyone. I am not trolling the Internet for babes. You are my one and only babe.”
She searched his eyes for eight thumps of his pulse before nodding curtly. “Okay, I believe you.”
Relief gut-punched him. She raised her arm, the one without the stylus, and stroked her wrist along his face. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the feel of her skin against his, the scent of her, like a Bali orchid. Just breathing in her perfume stirred him, making him ache to show her just how much he wanted only her.
“Andrea.” He groaned her name into her curled palm.
Her arms slid farther upward to hook around his neck and draw him toward her. He leaned closer and claimed her mouth. His wife. His lover.
She eased back, eyeing him more seriously than he’d hoped.
“Brett, you know this means we’re going to have to hire a new helper.”