down the cupboards, with the radio tuned to the soft-rock music station. Whenever a particularly romantic ballad aired, she danced around the kitchen with an imaginary partner. Not so imaginary, really. In her mind, she was in Reed’s arms.
The silence became more oppressive during the afternoon, while Ellen busied herself fussing over her nails. When the final layer of polish had dried, she decided to turn on the television to drown out the quiet. An hour into the football game, Ellen noticed that it was nearly dinnertime, and she suddenly felt hungry.
She made popcorn in the microwave and splurged by dripping melted butter over the top. She carried the bowl into the living room and got back on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. She’d just found a comfortable position when she heard a noise in the kitchen.
Frowning, she twisted around, wondering who it could be.
The door into the living room swung open and Ellen’s heart rate soared into double time.
“Reed?” She blinked to make sure he wasn’t an apparition.
“Hello.”
He didn’t vanish. Instead he took several steps in her direction. “That popcorn smells great.”
Without considering the wisdom of her offer, she held out the bowl to him. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” He took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair before joining her on the sofa. He leaned forward, studying the TV. “Who’s winning?”
Ellen was momentarily confused, until she realized he was asking about the football game. “I don’t know. I haven’t paid that much attention.”
Reed reached for another handful of popcorn and Ellen set the bowl on the coffee table. Her emotions were muddled. She couldn’t imagine what Reed was doing here when he was supposed to be at Danielle’s. Although the question burned in her mind, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. She glanced at him covertly, but Reed was staring at the TV as though he was alone in the room.
“I’ll get us something to drink,” she volunteered.
“Great.”
Even while she was speaking, Reed hadn’t looked in her direction. Slightly piqued by his attitude, she stalked into the kitchen and took two Pepsis out of the refrigerator.
When she returned with the soft drinks and two glasses filled with ice, Reed took one set from her. “Thanks,” he murmured, popping open the can. He carefully poured his soda over the ice and set the can aside before taking a sip.
“You’re welcome.” She flopped down again, pretending to watch television. But her mind was spinning in a hundred different directions. When she couldn’t tolerate it any longer, she blurted out the question that dominated her thoughts.
“Reed, what are you doing here?”
He took a long swallow before answering her. “I happen to live here.”
“You know what I mean. You should be with Danielle.”
“I was earlier, but I decided I preferred your company.”
“I don’t need your sympathy,” she snapped, then swallowed painfully and averted her gaze. Her fingers tightened around the cold glass until the chill extended up her arm. “I’m perfectly content to spend the day alone. I just wish everyone would quit saving me from myself.”
His low chuckle was unexpected. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I already told you.”
“I can’t accept that,” she said shakily. He was toying with her emotions, and the thought made her all the more furious.
“All right.” Determinedly, he set down his drink and turned toward her. “I felt this was the perfect opportunity for us to talk.”
“You haven’t said more than ten words to me in three days. What makes this one day so special?”
“We’re alone, aren’t we, and that’s more than we can usually say.” His voice was strained. He hesitated a moment, his lips pressed together in a thin, hard line. “I don’t know what’s happening with us.”
“Nothing’s happening,” she said wildly. “You kissed me, and we both admitted it was a mistake. Can’t we leave it at that?”
“No,” he answered dryly. “I don’t believe it was such a major tragedy, and neither do you.”
If it had really been a mistake, Ellen wouldn’t have remembered it with such vivid clarity. Nor would she yearn for the taste of him again and again, or hurt so much when she knew he was with Danielle.
Swiftly she turned her eyes away from the disturbing intensity of his, unwilling to reveal the depth of her feelings.
“It wasn’t a mistake, was it, Ellen?” he prompted in a husky voice.
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No,” she whispered, but the word was barely audible.
He gathered her close and she felt his deep shudder of satisfaction as he buried his face in her hair. Long moments passed before he spoke. “Nothing that felt so right could have been a mistake.”
Tenderly he kissed her, his lips touching hers with a gentleness she hadn’t expected. As if he feared she was somehow fragile; as if he found her highly precious. Without conscious decision, she slipped her arms around him.
“The whole time Danielle and I were together this afternoon, I was wishing it was you. Today, of all days, it seemed important to be with you.”
Ellen gazed up into his eyes and saw not only his gentleness, but his confusion. Her fingers slid into the thick hair around his lean, rugged face. “Danielle couldn’t have been pleased when you left.”
“She wasn’t. I didn’t even know how to explain it to her. I don’t know how to explain it to myself.”
Ellen swallowed the dryness that constricted her throat. “Do you want me to move out of the house?”
“No,” he said forcefully, then added more quietly, “I think I’d go crazy if you did. Are you a witch who’s cast some spell over me?”
She tried unsuccessfully to answer him, but no words of denial came. The knowledge that he was experiencing these strange whirling emotions was enough to overwhelm her.
“If so, the spell is working,” he murmured, although he didn’t sound particularly happy about the idea.
“I’m confused, too,” she admitted and leaned her forehead against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her open hand.
His long fingers stroked her hair. “I know.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “The night you went out with Charlie, I was completely unreasonable. I need to apologize for the things I said. To put it simply, I was jealous. I’ve acknowledged that, these last weeks in Denver.” Some of the tightness left his voice, as though the events of
