There was no way she could leave Timmy. She’d just have to think of something else, she decided, her head full of decisions to make, her heart heavy.
“Your wife is on line four.”
“Thank you, Ms. Harris,” Justin responded, and realized his voice wasn’t as steady as he’d have liked.
He’d been impatiently waiting for Heather to call, had instructed his secretary to put her through immediately. He’d even picked up the telephone several times to call her, only to put it back down. Aware his hands were sweating, he rubbed them on his slacks, then picked up the receiver and punched a button on the telephone.
“Heather?” He was anxious to hear her husky voice, to hear her say his name. Her effect on him even after one short visit was lethal. She was all he could think about.
“Hi. Is this a bad time?”
Justin thought she sounded a little rattled. Well, he could relate to that. His uncertainty as to what she was thinking or what her decision might be had made him irritable. His secretary had threatened to quit after working with him for only a few hours this morning. He knew the reason, and its name was Heather.
“No, of course not. You can call me anytime.”
“Oh.” There was silence on the line while she digested that. “Well, I’ll only keep you for a moment. I was wondering if we could meet. You know, to talk.”
“Of course,” he assured her, enjoying the breathless sound of her voice as she spoke. It wrapped around him, warming him like a blanket on a cold, snowy day. “How about if I stop by the house this evening?” he suggested, wanting to see her again as soon as he could. He’d drive there right now if she said the word.
“No,” she replied quickly. “I, um, have some business to attend to in the city. I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind if I came to your apartment.”
That cost her—which made him curious as to her motive, wondering if she was purposely setting a meeting on her own terms. Though he’d told his lawyer to give her the address in case she needed to reach him, Heather had never set foot in his apartment or called there.
“All right.” He leaned over his desk, propped his elbows on it, and he stared at her picture. In it she was smiling at him, reminding him of everything he’d given up when he’d left her. “What time is good for you?”
She named a time, and he gave her directions. He hesitated breaking the connection, reluctant to end their conversation. But she didn’t say anything more, and like a fool, he couldn’t think of a way to prolong it. “I’ll see you at seven, then.”
“Yes,” Heather said. “Seven.”
Justin put the receiver in its cradle, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. He drove his fingers through his hair, then held his head in his hands, his eyes fixed on the picture of Heather on his desk. Even after they’d separated, he’d never put it away.
It was of her while they were on their honeymoon. It wasn’t one of those posed shots by a professional, but a candid photo, catching her eyes shining with happiness, her wide smile. Her auburn hair fell around her face, and her cheeks were slightly flushed.
She looked happy and blissful.
That had been a lifetime ago, before she’d withdrawn into herself when she’d lost their baby. In the beginning, he’d pushed her, trying to force her to face their loss. When she’d continue to resist his efforts, he’d backed away. He’d dealt with the loss of their child in his own way, throwing himself into his work, driving himself to the edge of sanity just to get through each day. Somehow they’d lost each other in the process of healing their wounds.
But now he hoped they could find the common bond that had brought them together in the beginning of their relationship.
He glanced at his gold watch and realized he had only a few hours before she’d be at his apartment.
Justin decided to step up his plan to woo his wife.
The doorman to the high-rise building didn’t hesitate when Heather identified herself and who she was there to see. He opened the door and greeted her cordially, as if they’d met on several occasions before.
“Mrs. Bond. Mr. Bond is expecting you.”
She smiled, a nervous little smile that caused her lips to tremble. Obviously Justin had left word with the doorman to expect her. Her legs shaking, she walked across the black-and-white marbled floor to the elevator. Her hand trembled as she pressed the call button. A few moments later, the doors opened and she stepped inside.
Her heart jumped as the car ascended. She told herself it was because of the alarming speed of the elevator, not because it was taking her to Justin. To steady herself, she grasped the silver bar on the wall and held on tight. Before she could regain her equilibrium, the bell sounded and the car stopped on the top floor.
There were several apartment doors in view as she stepped off, but Heather knew to look for the number he’d given her. Still, she glanced at the paper the address was written on to be sure she had it right, then stuffed it inside her purse. She approached the door with the caution a trainer would use when confronting an uncaged lion, then stopped in front of it. Her hand shook as she raised it and gave a soft knock.
Moments later, it opened, and her husband was standing before her. He was dressed rather casually. For Justin, anyway. He had on dark-blue slacks and a polo shirt. His hair was slicked back from his face.
He smiled when he saw her, exposing that adorable dimple, and Heather’s heart melted a little, which caused her concern. She resented his ability to generate such a reaction inside her by his mere presence, momentarily robbing her of her perspective.
“Hi,” she said, and prayed her legs wouldn’t give out on her. Realizing she was clutching her purse, she willed herself to relax. The last thing she wanted was to seem nervous, though at the moment, that was an understatement.
He reached for her hand. She hesitated a beat, then offered it to him.
“Come in,” he said, drawing her into the room.
His tense expression relaxed a bit, and she was surprised at the brief look of relief she saw in his eyes. Had he wondered if she would change her mind? Well, it wasn’t like she hadn’t thought of canceling a hundred times, she admitted silently.
“I was glad to hear from you.”
“I said I would call,” she reminded him. She felt a tingle of pleasure as his hand closed around hers. It disconcerted her, when more than ever she wanted to keep her bearings about her. The familiar scent of his cologne drifted to her, and unconsciously she stepped closer to him.
Since she’d never been to his apartment, had never even known where it was other than the address, she was more than curious. An odd feeling crawled up her spine as she took in her surroundings. The room was spacious and formal, the furniture expensive and not at all what she’d envisioned. She’d imagined soft leather furniture, black or gray, something appealing to a man, with a large television and every electronic gadget that could possibly be used with it.
Instead, a decorator’s touch was evident everywhere, from the modern sofa and chairs, to the valuable framed paintings on the walls and the showy, perfectly placed vases of flowers, statues and lamps.
“I confess that I wondered if you would call.”
Her gaze went quickly to his face and an odd feeling made her tremble. The Justin she knew would never have admitted that.
“So this is where you live,” she murmured. He seemed totally out of place in the stark surroundings. This could have been anyone’s home. There were no signs in the room indicating Justin had made it his home.
“You seem surprised,” he said, watching her closely. “Did you think I was living in some