she snapped, and turned her back on him, crossing her arms over her chest. No problem? Even with all the electricity she wanted, she’d still be stuck here alone with Nick. If that wasn’t a problem, she didn’t know what was.
Feeling his stare on her, she whirled back around. “I’m going to find something to read,” she muttered without looking at him. Bess was a prolific reader and kept a lot of books around the house. Andrea needed something to take her mind off the six-foot-three bundle of trouble staring at her.
“I think I’ll take a nap, if you don’t need me,” Nick offered in return. “I’m still on Africa time.”
She risked a look and immediately noted the shadows under his eyes. Why hadn’t she seen them before? Probably because she’d been distracted by his body, she admitted to herself. And because she was afraid to look him in the eye for any length of time. Those eyes of his could mesmerize her faster than a rattler could lure an innocent rabbit to come closer.
“Fine,” she agreed, and entered the living room to search for a book.
Something was pulling her from sleep. Andrea shifted and banged her elbow into hardness. Funny, she thought fuzzily, what’s the wall doing there? Her bed wasn’t next to the wall.
Even as that thought came, she noticed the cut-velvet texture under her cheek and her eyes opened. Aunt Bess. She was at Aunt Bess’s house. And Aunt Bess was in the hospital and Nick was here.
With her.
She groaned and sat up, dislodging the book she’d been reading. Not that it had held her interest. She’d checked on Nick several times, enjoying the opportunity to watch him sleep, forbidden fruit as it were.
The urge to join him on the big bed had sent her scurrying back to the sofa in the living room. And her own eventual nap. She was so tired lately.
The deep shadows in the room caught her attention. Had the electricity gone off, as Nick had predicted? She quickly reached for the lamp and breathed a sigh of relief when it clicked on, sending shafts of light around the room.
Her watch read ten past seven, which explained the growl from her stomach. She got up and tiptoed to Bess’s bedroom. Pushing the door open only enough to peek in, she discovered Nick was still sleeping. Quietly, she retreated to the kitchen.
Though she was unsure whether Nick would join her for dinner or not, Andrea had no intention of being a martyr and skipping the meal. As Nick had said, Aunt Bess always had more than enough food on hand. After a quick survey, Andrea opened a can of soup and put it on to heat while she fixed some sandwiches from the fresh turkey she found in the refrigerator.
When everything was ready, she went back to the bedroom and pushed the door open slightly again. When it abruptly swung all the way back, she smothered a scream and jumped.
“Easy, there. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Nick said, though his look wasn’t an apology.
“I thought you were still sleeping.”
“Were you going to wake me?”
“I don’t know. I fixed something to eat, but I didn’t know if…if you were hungry.” She backed toward the kitchen, unsure what to do next.
“I’m starving,” he assured her, his gaze pinned on her face.
“It’s only soup and sandwiches.”
“Good enough.”
He took a step toward her and she turned and fled to the kitchen. Somehow she feared he might mistake her for his meal.
They ate in silence until Nick had finished.
“You’ve got a healthy appetite,” he observed.
Her head snapped up and she stared at him before looking away. “I always have,” she said mildly.
“True. But you didn’t always look like a waif with eyes too big for your face. What have you been doing to yourself?”
He continued to stare at her, and the turkey in her mouth tasted like sawdust. She swallowed before replying, “I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to eat?” he asked skeptically. “Everyone should make time for proper meals.”
Since he’d constantly missed dinner because of work, Andrea couldn’t believe her ears. “Is this the same man who called most evenings to say he’d grab a bite somewhere, that I shouldn’t count on him for dinner?”
He gave her a lopsided grin, almost an apology if she could believe her eyes. “Maybe I learned the importance of meals after what I had to eat in Africa.”
The reminder of how close she’d come to living in a world without him pierced her heart. She’d accepted that he wasn’t going to be a part of her life, but she couldn’t bear to think of him dead.
“Was it very bad?”
A low grumble was his first response. When she continued to watch him, he muttered, “Yeah. Eat your sandwich. You can’t afford to waste any calories.”
“Will you tell me about it?” It would be torture to hear what he’d suffered, but somehow she had to know.
“No. There’s no point in talking about it. Eat.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised. He hadn’t wanted to talk during their marriage. His only interest had been in the bedroom. In the beginning, she’d been so swept off her feet, so overwhelmed by his magneticism, she hadn’t noticed how limited their relationship was.
Then he’d taken her to a company dinner. The stunning blonde who worked in accounting discussed business with him. Then they talked about sports, mostly the Chicago Bears. Two men joined them and expanded the conversation to hunting.
Andrea had stood there, realizing for the first time that she had no knowledge of Nick’s real life. She could tell the blonde what turned her husband on. She could share with the gentlemen what he said when he reached satisfaction. She knew what he liked her to wear.
But she didn’t know him.
They’d only been married a month, after a whirlwind courtship that was even shorter. Andrea set out to correct the difficulty. And found herself blocked at every turn. If she made plans for the two of them, Nick inevitably canceled. Work was too hectic; candlelit dinners ended with her eating alone.
Attempts at conversation either were dismissed because he was too tired…or because he wanted her. When she protested her loneliness, he offered her a bigger allowance and told her to join some clubs.
Most painful of all, when she’d asked about starting a family, he’d flatly refused.
“You’re not eating,” he reminded her, dragging her from her distasteful memories.
She abruptly stood. “I’ve finished.” Crossing to the sink, she dumped what was left of her sandwich in the trash and began rinsing the dishes. The kitchen was completely up-to-date, thanks to Nick. He couldn’t persuade Aunt Bess to move to Chicago, or to let him build her a new house. But she was terribly proud
