“I’ll get you some.”
“I’ll get it myself, thank you.”
Her voice was cool. Don’t argue with me, it said, and he decided it might be best to take the hint.
He sighed, went back into the living room and sat down, nursing his cognac, anticipating her return, trying to figure out what to say, hell, trying to figure out what he could possibly do, to convince her he was sorry.
The seconds passed, and the minutes, and finally he put down his glass, stood up and walked back out to the hallway.
“Joanna?”
There was a light at the end of the hall. He followed it, to the kitchen. Joanna was standing in front of the open refrigerator, in profile to him. Her body was outlined in graceful brush strokes of light: the lush curve of her breast, the gentle fullness of her bottom, the long length of her legs.
His throat went dry. His hands fisted at his sides as he fought against the almost overwhelming urge to go to her, to take her in his arms and hold her close and say, Don’t worry, love, everything’s going to be fine.
He cleared his throat.
“Did you find the aspirin?”
She nodded and shut the refrigerator door.
“Yes, thank you. I was just making myself some cocoa.”
“Cocoa?” he said, and frowned.
She went to the stove. There was a pot on one of the burners. She took a wooden spoon from a drawer and stirred its contents.
“Yes. Would you like some?”
He shut his eyes against a sudden memory, Joanna at the stove in Connecticut, laughing as she stirred a saucepan of hot milk.
Of course it’s cocoa, David. What else would anybody drink when there’s a foot of snow outside?
“David?”
He swallowed, looked at her, shook his head.
“Thanks, but I don’t think it would go so well with cognac.”
She smiled faintly. Then she shut off the stove, took a white porcelain mug from the cabinet and filled it with steaming cocoa.
“Well,” she said, “good night.”
“Wait.” He stepped forward, into the center of the room. “Don’t go, not just yet.”
“I’m tired,” she said in a flat voice. “And it’s late. And I don’t see any point in—”
“I’m sorry.”
Her head came up and their eyes met. Joanna’s throat constricted. He looked exhausted and unhappy, and she imagined herself going to him, taking him in her arms and offering him comfort. But there was no reason for her to comfort him, dammit, there was no reason at all!
It was he who’d hurt her, who’d been hurting her, from the minute she’d awakened in the hospital.
Tears stung in her eyes. She blinked hard and forced a smile to her lips.
“Apology accepted,” she said. “We’ve both been under a lot of pressure. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Joanna.”
His hands closed on her shoulders as she walked past him.
She stood absolutely still, her back to him.
She’d been awake all the night, staring at the ceiling and telling herself that what she felt for her husband—what she’d thought she’d felt—had been a lie, that in her confusion and the loneliness that came of her loss of memory, she’d fooled herself into thinking he meant something to her.
And she’d believed it.
Then, why was his touch making her tremble? Why was she fighting the urge to turn and go into his arms?
Stop being a fool, she told herself angrily, and she slipped out from beneath his hands and swung toward him.
“What do you want now, David? I’ve already accepted your apology.” She took a ragged breath. “In a way, I guess some of what happened was my fault.”
“No. You didn’t—”
“But I did. I showed up uninvited, as you so clearly pointed out. And…and I suppose I should have worn something more in keeping with…with my status as your wife.”
“Dammit, Jo—”
“As for what happened in the limousine…” Her cheeks colored but her gaze was unwavering. “I’m not a child, David. I’m as responsible for it as you. I shouldn’t have let you—I shouldn’t have…”
“Will you listen to me?”
“Why? We have nothing to discuss…unless you want to talk about a separation.”
He recoiled, as if she’d hit him again. She couldn’t blame him. What she’d said had shocked her, too. She hadn’t expected to say anything about a separation, even though that was all she’d thought about for the last few hours.
“What in hell are you talking about?”
“It would be best,” she said quietly. “You know we can’t go on the way we are.”
“You’re talking nonsense!”
“Just give me a couple of days to—to find a place to live and—”
His hands clamped down on her shoulders.
“Are you crazy? Where in hell would you go?”
“I don’t know.” Her chin lifted. “I’ll find a place. All I need is a little time.”
“You’re ill, don’t you understand that?”
“I’m not ill. I just—”
“Yeah, I know. You just can’t remember.” David’s eyes darkened. “Forget it, Joanna. It’s out of the question.”
“What do you mean, it’s out of the question?” She wrenched free of his grasp. “I don’t need your permission to leave. I’m not a child.”
“You’re behaving like one.”
They glared at each other. Then Joanna slammed the mug of cocoa down on the table, turned on her heel and marched out of the room.
“Joanna?” David stalked after her. She was halfway up the stairs. “Where in hell do you think you’re going?”
“Stop using that tone of voice with me.” She spun toward him, her eyes flashing with anger. “I’m going to my room. Or do I need your approval first?”
“Just get this through your head,” he snapped. “There won’t be any separation.”
“Give me one good reason why not!”
“Because I say so.”
Joanna’s mouth trembled. “That’s great. If you can’t win a fight, resort to typical male tyranny…” Her words tumbled to a halt and a puzzled look came over her face. “Typical male tyranny,” she whispered. Her gaze flew to his. “David? Haven’t I…haven’t I said that before?”
He came slowly up the stairs until he was standing a step below her. “Yes,” he said softly, “you have.”
“I thought so.” She hesitated. “For a minute, I almost remembered…I mean, I had one of those flashes… Did we…when I said that to you, had we been quarreling over the same thing? About—about me leaving you?”
A smile curved across his mouth. He reached out his hand and stroked his forefinger along the curve of her jaw.
“We hadn’t been quarreling at all,” he said in a quiet voice. “We’d been horsing around beside the pond—”
“In Connecticut?”
He nodded. “I’d been threatening to toss you in and you said I wouldn’t dare—”
“And—and you made a feint at me and I laughed and stepped aside and you fell into the water.”
He was almost afraid to breathe. “You remember that?”
Joanna’s eyes clouded with tears. “Only that,” she whispered, “nothing else. It’s—it’s as if I suddenly saw a couple of quick frames from a movie.”
He cupped her cheek with his hand. “I came up sputtering and you were standing there laughing so hard you were crying. I went after you, and when I caught you and carried you down to the pond to give you the same treatment, you said I was a bully and that I was resorting to—”
“Typical male tyranny?”
“Uh-huh.” His voice grew husky. “And I retaliated.”
Joanna stared at him. There was something in the way he was looking at her that sent a lick of flame through her blood.
“How?”
His smile was slow and sexy.
“I d
idn’t dump you into the pond. I carried you to the meadow instead.”
“A…a green meadow,” Joanna said. “Filled with flowers.”