Growling, he pushed back his laptop and glared at the ceiling. Dammit, he’d never wanted his marriage to end. He’d fought to save it. But no matter what Grace thought about second chances, he’d be an idiot to entertain such a crazy idea. He was here because he had no choice. Laura would get her memory back and then they could each forget this episode and get on with their individual lives.
Laura woke with her heart hammering in her chest. The room was quiet, the walls stenciled with soft-edged shadows. The green numerals on the side table read 2:04.
Shivering and feeling inexplicably alone, she tugged the covers higher. Then she remembered Bishop and her smile warmed her right through. Carefully, she rolled over, reached out in the darkness…and that warmth dropped away.
The space beside her was cold and empty. Why hadn’t Bishop joined her? Because he worried about her bandaged head? Didn’t he know that his embrace was the only medicine she needed?
Well, if he didn’t know, she’d simply have to go and tell him.
After wrapping up in a long, soft robe, she padded out into the hall. Outside Bishop’s office, a wedge of light shone on the timber floor. Frowning, she huddled into the robe’s warmth more. He was working at two in the morning?
She headed off but stopped in the doorway, her heart melting at the sight. Bishop was sprawled out on his Chesterfield couch, an ankle hung over the far armrest, one foot on the floor, his left forearm draped over his eyes. He’d taken off his shoes and trousers, and his white business shirt was undone to his navel. The steady rise and fall of his beautiful big chest told her he was sleeping soundly. Familiar heat sizzled through her. God, how she loved him. How dearly she wanted him. And there was another feeling swirling through her blood…one that was strangely difficult to pinpoint or analyze. She missed him. Missed him like she hadn’t seen him in years. The knowledge left her with a hollow ache in her chest. A chunk cut out of her heart. But she surrendered to a self-deprecating smile. He’d been away from their bed half a night. How would she cope if he left her for a week? A month?
She wriggled her toes on the cool floor. She wanted to go to him, wrap him up under her robe, rub her leg over the hard length and rouse him. Despite doctor’s orders not to overdo it, if her hands were to knead his body and she poured words of love in his ear, surely he’d relent and make love.
Or would he be unhappy with her? He worried so much about her health.
She was still making up her mind when the ridges of his six-pack suddenly crunched and Bishop woke with a start. Driving back a breath, he sat bolt upright as if a monster had chased him out of a dream. His gaze shot to the doorway, to where she stood. His dark hair was mussed and his bronzed legs beneath the white shirt looked as strong as steel pylons. The tips of Laura’s breasts hardened against the gentle fabric of her robe. How she longed to trail her fingers up over that steel, every blessed inch of it.
His blue eyes focused then narrowed slightly as they raked the lines of her body. A pulse began to beat in his jaw at the same time his eyes grew lidded and she knew he was visualizing the curves and valleys he loved to touch and taste.
Then he scrubbed a hand over his face and, shaking himself, sat straighter. His voice was thick from sleep.
“It’s late. Go back to bed.”
“If you come with me.”
He held her gaze then looked to his desk. “In a few minutes. I have some things to wrap up.”
She crossed the room, sat down beside him and gave him a level look.
“We can’t avoid it, you know.”
He leaned back the barest amount. “Avoid…what?”
“We need to talk.”
She put her hand on his thigh. He promptly removed it.
“Not in the middle of the night.” He pushed to his feet and, grabbing his hand, she pulled him back. He had the strength to resist, but a yielding expression touched his mouth, his eyes, and slowly he lowered back down.
“When I was old enough to understand about my condition,” she began, “that I would need to be careful about overexertion and such—I felt…different. My parents made sure every teacher knew which activities I could or could not do. Once, when we were short on numbers, Mrs. Carols insisted I moved off the sideline and team up for the 500m relay. When he found out, my dad hit the roof. He threatened the principal’s job and demanded an apology from Mrs. Carols as well as from the school.”
Bishop’s brows had knitted. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I want you to understand that I know better than anyone what I’m asking of you, of myself and of any children we have.”
As if he were considering her words, his gaze lowered. He saw his buttons undone and, deep in thought, he began to rebutton. “Laura, it must be close to three o’clock—”
“Junior school was lonely sometimes,” she plowed on. She didn’t care about the time. She needed to say this and he needed to hear it. “I couldn’t do cross-country or horse riding at camp. Kids can be cruel and some laughed behind my back. A couple even called me a cripple.”
Redoing the final button, his hands fisted in his shirt. “I wish I’d been there.”
“I had good friends too, though. We ignored the girls who needed to make themselves feel taller by bringing someone else down. Then university happened and the entire world didn’t need to know anymore. I was just like everyone else. A year after graduation, I met you.”
A small smile hooked one side of his mouth. “That night I kept you up talking till dawn.”
Smiling, too, she turned more toward him. “Eight weeks and one day later, you proposed. When you still wanted to marry me after you learned about my secret, I didn’t think anyone could be more lucky…or more in love…” Her gaze dipped before finding his again. “Even if you didn’t quite understand how deeply I felt about conceiving and having our own child. After I agreed we would adopt, I tried to deny it to myself.”
He broke their intense gaze and cleared his throat. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
She touched the square bandage on her head. Feeling a faint throb coming on, she surrendered with a nod. It was enough for now that she’d opened that door a little wider. Tomorrow they would talk more, and when he realized how much carrying and giving life to her own child meant to her—when he accepted that history didn’t need to repeat itself, hers or his—he’d come around. He loved her, and love could surmount any obstacle.
She found her feet and put out her hand. “Coming?” His gaze slid to her bandage and she grinned. If he thought he’d get away with another excuse, he was mistaken. “Or we can stay up and finish this conversation now?”
He stood. “You win. But remember, you’re taking it easy.”
She looped her arm through his and guided him toward the door, toward their bedroom.
Beside the bed, she slipped out of her robe while he unbuttoned his shirt again, which seemed to take an inordinately long time. When she slid between the covers, feeling sexy in the lacy negligee she’d donned when she’d first lain down, she watched as his gaze filtered over her in the golden glow of lamplight. Snuggling into the pillows, she slipped back his side of the covers.
“On my honor,” she said, half-serious, “I promise not to ravage you.”
A