He straightened away from the duffel bag and faced her. “If you’re worried about me wanting to resume our sexual relationship, that’s not what any of this is about. From what you told me earlier today, this is all for Stevie. Isn’t that right?”
She nodded as an empty ache began to fill her heart. Of course he wasn’t moving into their bedroom for sex. She’d been crazy to think, even for a second, that he’d changed his mind and wanted to make love to her again. This was his way of torturing her. He wanted to remind her over and over what she was giving up, what she was missing night after night. And there was nothing she could do about it until Stevie’s stay was over.
“You’re right,” she said, then raised her chin to a determined angle. “And it’s not as if we’ve never slept together before. I can manage, if you can.”
His gaze raked her slender curves. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought I couldn’t.”
She really ought to hate him, Hope thought. She really should want to walk out and never look back. But she’d never been able to kill the love she felt for this man. It had run too deep and for too long to die a quick death. There was still a part of her that wasn’t ready to give up on him or their marriage. Not yet.
“Good,” she said with forced ease. “Then neither of us should have a problem.”
He turned his attention to the duffel bag. “No problem at all.”
Not for him, at least, she thought ruefully. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your unpacking. Have you had anything to eat? There’s fresh bread and cold cuts.”
“I’ve already eaten. I’m fine.”
He didn’t want to be here. She had forced him into it. The fact shouldn’t be crushing her heart. After all, he’d chosen to live away from her for many weeks now. But she couldn’t help wishing things between them were so very different.
“I’ll be in the den,” she said, then hurried toward the door.
Before she could pass through it, he called her name and she glanced at him, an ache in her heart and a painful lump in her throat.
“I wanted to—” He stopped, then with a rueful shake of his head said, “Nothing. Forget it.”
Whatever had been on his mind, he wasn’t going to share it with her, Hope realized. Which wasn’t surprising. He’d quit sharing himself with her a long time ago.
“I understand this isn’t easy for you, Drake. But I do thank you for coming home. Very much.”
For a moment it looked as if Drake wanted to reach out to her, to draw her closer to him. But when he spoke, his voice was cool, almost businesslike.
“At the end of this month, we’ll see how much you really thank me, Hope.”
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN THE ALARM CLOCK sounded the next morning, Hope opened her eyes to find she was the sole occupant of the bed. But she didn’t need to see the indentation of the pillow next to her to know Drake had slept there. All through the night she’d been desperately aware of his hard, masculine body stretched out only inches away from her.
For hours she’d lain there staring into the darkness, remembering when their love had been full of fiery passion. He would have automatically reached for her or she for him. Hope had always been eager to give him pleasure, and she had to admit Drake had been more than a generous lover. Now he refused to touch her for fear of making her pregnant.
The thought renewed the deep ache that was always inside her these days, and she sighed as she reached out and touched his side of the bed. Last night she’d been afraid to sleep, afraid she would unconsciously creep into his arms. As a result, she’d dozed fitfully until the alarm clock had buzzed on the nightstand beside her.
Across the bedroom, to her right, the door to the bathroom was shut. The sound of the shower told her Drake was already getting ready for the day ahead. In the past, he would have lingered in bed, using what little time they had before work to be close to her. But that part of their life was over. She had to forget it and move on.
With a tired groan, she shoved her hair off her face and reached for her robe. She couldn’t survive a month of this, she thought as she groggily tied the sash at her waist. It would kill her.
In the kitchen, she discovered Drake had already made coffee. She quickly filled a mug, and after a heavy dollop of half-and-half took a grateful sip. Caffeine would have to sustain her through the day. And tonight…well, she would just have to forget her husband was lying beside her.
Hope was finishing her coffee when Drake entered the kitchen dressed in a dark suit, a white shirt checked with tiny black windowpanes and black Western boots. His light brown hair waved damply away from his broad forehead and his strong jaw shone with freshly applied aftershave. As he crossed to the coffeepot, the musky scent trailed to where she sat at the table.
She hadn’t realized having him back in the house was going to be so tempting. Or so painful.
“You’re early,” she said to him. “Stevie’s flight isn’t scheduled to arrive until nine-fifteen.”
He poured a mug full of coffee, then turned to her. As her eyes scanned his face, she decided he looked disgustingly rested. Obviously sleeping next to her hadn’t been the least bit distracting for him.
“I have some work in the study that I want to go over before we leave.”
“Oh.” She should have known he hadn’t put aside this morning exclusively for her or his little nephew.
He made a point of glancing at his wristwatch. “Will you be ready by eight-thirty?”
She nodded, then forced her attention to the bay window across one wall of the kitchen, which gave a view of the backyard. “I’ll come to the study when I finish dressing.”
“Fine,” he said, then left the room and Hope without a clue to what he was really thinking.
Upstairs, she made a point of dressing casually in jeans and a bright red sweater with a rhinestone candy cane pinned to one side. She didn’t want Stevie to view her as a starched and staid aunt whom he couldn’t get near for fear of ruining her clothing.
As for Drake, she supposed his tall, stern demeanor would seem formidable to most any child. But Hope knew that beneath his outward cool was a man capable of warmth and love. She could only wonder whether he would show Stevie that part of himself. As for ever showing any tender feelings toward her again, she’d given up on that months ago.
Less than an hour later they left the house with a minimum of conversation. The residential area was behind them and the morning rush-hour traffic buzzing on either side of them before Drake decided to break the somber silence.
“You’ve been very quiet this morning. Did you sleep last night?”
Hope glanced across the car seat to where his lanky body sat comfortably behind the wheel. His gaze was on the traffic ahead, yet even if she could have seen his eyes, she doubted she would have known what was on his mind. Drake had always been a man to keep his feelings hidden. Now that trouble had come to their marriage, he was even more of a closed book.
“Yes, I slept.” Drake didn’t need to know the sum total of her sleep had probably been less than an hour and that he’d been the sole reason for her miserable night. “I’ve been thinking. About Stevie.”
“What about him?”
Hope sighed, wishing her heart felt as bright as the morning. The gray clouds had cleared and sunshine spilled over the busy city streets of Austin. Maybe the sudden break in the weather was a good omen. She certainly needed one.
“I just wonder what he’ll think about us,” she answered. “The last time we saw him was nearly a year ago. Do you think he’ll remember us?”
Drake