the phone, Steve,” she said softly, but not because she’d planned to make her voice silky and smooth. Her vocal chords had tightened and it just came out sounding that way. Her nerves were stretched to their limit, and her heart was pounding in her ear like a charging locomotive.
“Okay,” he answered, reluctance evident in every syllable.
“When?” Her gaze scanned the calendar—the timing of this entire venture was of primary importance.
“Tomorrow?” he suggested.
Carol’s eyes drifted shut as the relief worked its way through her stiff limbs. Her biggest concern was that he would suggest after the Christmas holidays, and then it would be too late and she would have to reschedule everything for January.
“That would be fine,” Carol managed. “Would you mind coming to the house?” The two bedroom brick rambler had been awarded to her as part of the divorce settlement.
Again she could feel his hesitation. “As a matter of fact, I would.”
“All right,” she answered, quickly gathering her wits. His not wanting to come to the house shouldn’t have surprised her. “How about coffee at Denny’s tomorrow evening?”
“Seven?”
Carol swallowed before answering. “Fine. I’ll see you then.”
Her hand was still trembling a moment later when she replaced the telephone receiver in its cradle. All along she’d accepted that Steve wasn’t going to fall into her bed without some subtle prompting, but from the brusque, impatient sound of his voice, the whole escapade could well be impossible … this month. That bothered her. The one pivotal point in her plan was that everything come together quickly. One blazing night of passion could easily be dismissed and forgotten. But if she were to continue to invite him back one night a month, several months running, then he just might catch on to what she was doing.
Still, when it had come to interpreting her actions in the past, Steve had shown a shocking lack of insight. Thankfully their troubles had never intruded in the bedroom. Their marriage relationship had been a jumbled mess of doubts and misunderstandings, accusations and regrets, but their love life had always been vigorous and lusty right up until the divorce, astonishing as it seemed now.
* * *
At precisely seven the following evening, Carol walked into Denny’s Restaurant on Seattle’s Capitol Hill. The first year she and Steve had been married, they’d had dinner there once a month. Money had been tight because they’d been saving for a down payment on the house, and an evening out, even if it was only Saturday night at Denny’s, had been a real treat.
Two steps into the restaurant Carol spotted her former husband sitting in a booth by the window. She paused and experienced such a wealth of emotion that advancing even one step more would have been impossible. Steve had no right to look this good—far better than she remembered. In the thirteen months since she’d last seen him, he’d changed considerably. Matured. His features were sharper, clearer, more intense. His lean good looks were all the more prominent, his handsome masculine features vigorous and tanned even in December. A few strands of gray hair streaked his temple, adding a distinguished air.
His gaze caught hers and Carol sucked in a deep, calming breath, her steps nearly faltering as she advanced toward him. His eyes had changed the most, she decided. Where once they had been warm and caressing, now they were cool and calculating. They narrowed on her, his mistrust shining through as bright as any beacon.
Carol experienced a moment of panic as his gaze seemed to strip away the last shreds of her pride. It took all her willpower to force a smile to her lips.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, and slipped into the red upholstered seat across from him.
The waitress came with a glass coffeepot, and Carol turned over her cup, which the woman promptly filled after placing menus on the table.
“It feels cold enough to snow,” Carol said as a means of starting conversation. It was eerie that she could have been married to Steve all those years and feel as if he were little more than a stranger. He gave her that impression now. This hard, impassive man was one she didn’t know nearly as well as the one who had once been her lover, her friend and her husband.
“You’re looking fit,” Steve said after a moment, a spark of admiration glinting in his gaze.
“Thank you.” A weak smile hovered over her lips. “You, too. How’s the Navy treating you?”
“Good.”
“Are you still on the Atlantis?”
He nodded shortly.
Silence.
Carol groped for something more to say. “It was a surprise to discover that Lindy’s living in Seattle.”
“Did she tell you she married Rush?”
Carol noted the way his brows drew together and darkened his face momentarily when he mentioned the fact. “I didn’t realize Lindy even knew Rush,” Carol said, and took a sip of the coffee.
“They were married two weeks after they met. Lord, I can’t believe it yet.”
“Two weeks? That doesn’t sound anything like Rush. I remember him as being so methodical about everything.”
Steve’s frown relaxed, but only a little. “Apparently they fell in love.”
Carol knew Steve well enough to recognize the hint of sarcasm in his voice, as if he were telling her what a mockery that emotion was. In their instance it had certainly been wasted. Sadly wasted.
“Are they happy?” That was the important thing as far as Carol was concerned.
“They went through a rough period a while back, but since the Mitchell docked they seem to have mended their fences.”
Carol dropped her gaze to her cup as reality cut sharply into her heart. “That’s more than we did.”
“As you recall,” he said harshly, under his breath, “there wasn’t any fence left to repair. The night you started sleeping with Todd Larson, you destroyed our marriage.”
Carol didn’t rise to the challenge, although Steve had all but slapped her face with it. There was nothing she could say to exonerate herself, and she’d given up explaining the facts to him more than a year ago. Steve chose to believe what he wanted. She’d tried, God knew, to set the record straight. Todd had been her employer and her friend, but never anything more. Carol had pleaded with Steve until she was blue with exasperation, but it hadn’t done her any good. Rehashing the same argument now wasn’t going to help either of them.
Silence stretched between them and was broken by the waitress who had returned to their booth, pad and pen in hand. “Have you decided?”
Carol hadn’t even glanced at the menu. “Do you have sweet-potato pie?”
“No, but pecan is the special this month.”
Carol shook her head, ignoring the strange look Steve was giving her. “Just coffee then.”
“Same
