Just Married...Again (11 page)

“You’ll be happy to know there are at least a half-dozen more of those magazines in that cabinet over there. I found them way in the back when I was looking for extra space to stash some of the firewood.”

“I guess the previous owners left them behind.” She studied him as she spoke. She had never seem him look so relaxed, his hair slightly mussed, his clothes wrinkled. The Michael she knew was always impeccably dressed, clean-shaven, not a hair out of place. Even when he jogged he looked like he belonged in a Nike commercial. “You certainly look comfortable,” she said.

“I
am
comfortable, thanks to the wonderful meal you prepared. I was just thinking how I should get you to teach me how to cook. Good, healthy food,” he added. “I’ve obviously been eating the wrong things, or my blood pressure wouldn’t be so high.”

Maddy was warmed by the compliment about her cooking, but she had no desire to give him lessons, any more than she wanted to help him with health and fitness. She knew the less time she spent with him the better. That was a tall order at the moment, considering they were cooped up in a three-room cabin. Once the roads were clear, she planned to be gone.

“I’ll be glad to share some of my recipes with you,” she said after a moment.

Michael was able to read between the lines. She didn’t want to spend any more time with him than she had to. Not that he blamed her after the past they’d shared, but disappointment weighed heavily on him, nevertheless. Didn’t he deserve a second chance? He had to win her over, prove that he was a different man than the one she’d walked out on. And he
was
different in some ways. It had taken losing her to make him realize how much he loved her. He now knew she was the most important thing in the world to him.

As he gazed at her, Michael couldn’t believe the many evenings and weekends he’d spent at the office working instead of going home to her, home where he’d belonged. So much time had been lost. There was no retrieving those missed days and nights, but he could make up for it if she gave him half a chance.

“You have to realize that your diet isn’t the only thing pushing your blood pressure up,” Maddy continued, drawing him from his thoughts. “It has a lot to do with your lifestyle. You’re a typical type-A personality, Michael. It won’t be easy for you to change what’s ingrained in you.”

“Even if it means the difference between life and death?” he asked. “Or if it hampers my chances for a meaningful relationship? You underestimate me, Maddy. I may not be able to remember my past at the moment, but I damn sure know what’s inside of me. There’s not much I can’t do once I put my mind to it.” He stood and walked to the fire. After stirring it and adding another log, he looked out the front window. The snow wasn’t coming down as hard.

“Michael?”

He turned, surprised to find Maddy standing directly behind him only inches away. He hadn’t even heard her get up. “What is it?”

“I have no right to suggest you’re not capable of change. And it’s not my place to point out what I feel are shortcomings in your personality.”

“Oh, but it is,” he said. “You obviously know me better than anyone else.” It hurt him to look at her when all he wanted to do was touch her and kiss her until they were both dizzy. “I’m sorry if I let you down, Maddy,” he said. Without thinking, he raised one hand to her cheek in a caress. “Try not to hate me too much, okay?”

His hand was rough against her cheek, and it made her feel protected, cherished. The feelings were as welcome as a cool rain on a hot summer day, and she found herself yearning for more. The thought jolted her. She had no business allowing it to go on, but as she raised her own hand to pull his away, their gazes locked and her fingers froze around his wrist.

What was she doing? she asked herself. Why was she standing there letting him look at her and touch her that way? Had she lost her poor mind? It had taken too many months of learning to live without Michael’s touch. She wasn’t about to fall into that old trap. Besides, she’d promised herself she’d never again rely on someone else for comfort. Strength came from within. Yet she couldn’t seem to find the energy to remove his hand from her cheek.

“I don’t hate you, Michael,” she said, trying to keep her voice under control, despite the fact she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was certain he could hear the echo inside her rib cage. “I thought I did when we first split, but I was mostly angry at the time.”

She didn’t hate him. He supposed it was a start, although he wished for more. How could she simply have stopped loving him after all they’d meant to each other?

Well, he hadn’t stopped loving her and never would, for that matter. He wanted her just as much now as he had the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Even more. She might not love him anymore, but she didn’t despise him, either. That meant he had a fighting chance, and that was all he needed.

She was still grasping his wrist. That, too, had to mean something. Couldn’t she feel his pulse beating erratically? Her touch thrilled him, especially after he’d lived without it all these months. She had beautiful hands, soft and gentle and loving. He remembered how they’d felt stroking his hair or toying with the curls on his chest. She had been many things to him—companion and confidante, lover and nurturer, helpmate and best friend. He had lost a lot when she’d walked out on him.

His gaze darkened as it held hers. Without breaking eye contact, he turned his hand and captured her hand, then brought it to his lips. He pressed a kiss against her open palm. He could smell the soap she’d used to bathe herself, and the lotion she’d applied afterward. He groaned inwardly at the mental image he had of those same delicate hands caressing him.

He could feel himself getting aroused, and he cursed his wayward body for reacting to the situation in such a way.

Maddy shivered as his warm mouth made contact with the very center of her palm, sending delightful tingles up her arm and causing an ache deep inside her. Emotion welled up at the back of her throat at the tender act. He was so stunningly virile, exuding masculinity from every pore, yet his touch was the gentlest thing she’d ever known.

She knew what those lips were capable of.

But it was sheer craziness to allow this to go on. She had absolutely no business letting Michael do what he was doing to her, even if it did feel wonderful. She had struggled long and hard to get him out from under her skin, and she wasn’t about to go through all that again.

“Michael, please don’t.” She spoke in a broken whisper.

He didn’t miss the pleading in her voice, or the glistening eyes that told him she was very near tears. The poor woman obviously couldn’t bear his touch. He released her abruptly. A chill silence ensued. Without a word, he turned and strode to the door.

Anxiety spurted through Maddy when she saw him reach for his coat and gloves. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“I want to hear the latest weather report.”

She crossed the room. His massive chest and shoulders filled the coat he wore. She could feel the power that coiled within him, could sense his restlessness … and his anger. “But it’s so cold.”

“Lucky for me my car has a heater.” He reached for the door handle, and then paused. “Besides, it’ll do you good to have me out of your hair for a while. It must’ve been a rude shock to run into me way up here after all you did to get me out of your life.” He let himself out before she could respond.

Michael stepped outside, cursing the bone-chilling wind that waited. The snow was deep; he staggered and stumbled like a Saturday-night drunk as he made his way to his car and climbed in. It offered about as much relief as a refrigerator on its lowest setting. He started the engine and waited.

He could feel himself scowling. He was ticked, not to mention hurt and disappointed. Women thought they held the monopoly where emotions were concerned, but they were wrong. Just because guys didn’t have periods or bear children didn’t mean they didn’t feel pain just as strongly as females. Men just went to a lot more trouble to hide it from themselves and everyone.

He knew what pain was. It was knowing that you’d blown the best thing that ever happened to you. It was knowing that you might never get it back again.

It was watching the woman you loved recoil at your touch.

Michael’s mood was no better when he stepped inside the cabin several hours later. He found it dark and cold, the fire having burned out, leaving a few red embers behind that barely gave off enough light for him to see. Heaving a weary sigh, he kicked off his shoes at the door and turned for the living room. He heard a low growl and braced himself as something darted from the shadows and flung itself at his foot, like a creature out of a Stephen King novel. It sank its fangs into the hem of his jeans.

“Hello, Rambo,” he said. “Thanks for waiting up.” Michael started for the fireplace, then cursed under his breath when the animal refused to let go. “Okay, pal,” he mumbled, unfastening the metal button at his waist. “I don’t feel like dragging a twenty-pound sausage around, so you can have the damn jeans if it’ll make you happy.” He shoved down the zipper and pulled them off. “Here, go for it,” he said, tossing the pants aside. The dog pounced on them as if he’d just been handed a thick porterhouse steak.

Michael crossed the room in his Calvin Klein boxers and went about building a new fire, trying not to step on Danny, who was tucked inside a sleeping bag on the floor. He spied a black nose peeping out of the opening and realized Muffin was in the bag, as well. Maddy had placed a couple of blankets on the sofa, but there was no way to open it into a bed with Danny camped out in front of it.

Once he had a fire going, Michael shrugged out of his coat and hung it near the door. He went into the kitchen and grabbed a diet drink from the refrigerator. He paused when he spied the bottle of white wine on the top shelf. He pulled it out and noticed about half of it was gone. Maddy must’ve had a couple of glasses after he’d left. She seldom drank anything other than juice or water. He was no sleuth, but he figured the missing wine accounted for the fact that the fire had been allowed to burn down so low it had nearly gone out.

He set the bottle back in the refrigerator and closed the door. He’d only taken two sips of his soft drink when he realized he was shivering. The kitchen was freezing; he suspected the bedroom would be much worse. He felt bad now for sitting in his car so long, but how was he to know Maddy would end up conking out without checking the fire? Besides, he’d had a lot of thinking to do, and he’d needed to be alone to do it.

Michael had come to terms with the fact that he was wasting his time where his wife was concerned, and the sooner he got them out of there the better. He would send off flares tomorrow and hope somebody saw them. It was only fair to Maddy that he get out of her life once and for all.

He’d been a fool to think she might still have feelings for him after the way he’d behaved, and a bigger fool for pining away after her all these months when he should have been rebuilding his life. Once help arrived and he was certain she’d be okay, he would go home and pick up the pieces. It wouldn’t be easy. It would be the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

Michael glanced down the hall and wondered if Maddy was okay. Perhaps he should wake her and insist she move to the sofa until the heat spread to the rest of the cabin. He might have let her down as a husband, but he wasn’t about to risk her health and welfare.

Rambo was still gnawing on his jeans as Michael turned on the hall light and made his way toward the bedroom. The door stood half-open. He peered in and called Maddy’s name softly. He thought he heard a whimper.

“Maddy?” No answer. He stepped inside and hurried to the bed. “Maddy, honey, are you okay?”

She opened her eyes. “I’m cold,” she said, her teeth chattering so badly, he could barely make out the words.

He sat on the bed and reached for her hand. It was icy cold. “The fire went out, babe. I just built another one. Why don’t you come into the living room until it has time to warm up back here?”

“I’m too tired.” She curled up tighter, as though she were trying to make herself into a ball. “And cold.”

“Okay, sit tight for a minute,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He raced down the hall toward the living room. Rambo had dragged his jeans closer to the fire and was sleeping on them. He opened his eyes when Michael passed, yawned wide, and went back to sleep.

Michael grabbed the blankets from the sofa that Maddy had used to make his bed, and he took turns holding each one before the fire, warming them on both sides until they were toasty. He almost ran down the hall to the bedroom. He found Maddy dozing, but the frown on her face told him she wasn’t comfortable.

Holding the blankets in one hand, he swept the covers from the bed. Maddy cried out in protest. He immediately covered her with the warm blankets, and her sighs of pleasure brought a smile to his face. He tucked the warm blankets around her, then piled the others on top, hoping to insulate the heat from the ones below.

“Thank you, Michael,” she said in a dreamy, contented voice. “Where did you get these extra blankets?”

Now he was beginning to shiver. “They were on the sofa.”

She opened her eyes. “But those were for you. You’ll never be able to keep warm with just a sheet.”

“I’ll be okay, Maddy,” he said, teeth chattering. “Just get some sleep.”

“Listen to you, you’re freezing to death. I’ll never be able to sleep knowing I took your blankets.” She sighed. “Get in the bed, Michael. Hurry, before you catch pneumonia.”

He stared at her, slack-jawed, wondering if he’d heard right. “What did you say?”

She pulled the covers aside. “Get in. We’ll have to sleep close so we can share our body heat.” When he simply stood there, she gave an impatient huff. “Don’t just stand there looking at me as though I’ve grown horns. We’re talking survival here.”

Michael nodded dumbly and climbed into bed, burrowing beneath the blankets. She turned her back to him and scooted close so they were lying spoon-fashion. As he lay there, pressed against her softness, enveloped in her scent, only one coherent thought entered his mind.