A Husband Worth Waiting For

Squaring his shoulders, he said, “C’mon, Max. Let’s go inside and find out.”

But Max had loped away into the forest.

The front door was unlocked.

Jedidiah opened it. Closed it. Took off his shoes. Stepped forward into the foyer.

And that’s when he saw them.

Two children, a boy of around three and a girl maybe a couple of years older, sitting on the carpet over by the staircase, playing with blocks. They were so intent on what they were doing they didn’t notice him.

He stood, watching. Fascinated.

The boy was slightly built, with a sweep of ash-blond hair. He was wearing jeans and a red sweater. The girl was sturdier, but her hair was equally blond and styled in a long braid. She, too, was wearing jeans, but her sweater was blue with a pattern of snowflakes.

He cleared his throat.

The little girl looked up.

She stared at him for a long moment, her beautiful gray eyes startled, and then she cried, “Daddy!”

The boy turned sharply. His eyes were as gray as the girl’s, and at sight of him, they lit up.

“Da-da!” He scrambled to his feet, and for a moment the two children stood rooted to the spot. Then the girl threw out her arms and with a shriek of joy ran toward him. The boy followed suit.

What could he do but swing them up and hug them? How were they to know he didn’t recognize them? How were they to know he felt as if they were strangers to him?

He swung them around and then swung them down again.

The little girl ran to the stairs and yelled, “Mom! Mom! Daddy’s come back!”

Jedidiah followed, his heart beating in slow, heavy thuds as he waited for this woman who was his wife.

Her voice preceded her. “Honey, what are you…?”

And then she appeared, hurrying out onto the landing.

She glanced down, frowning.

And stopped dead at the sight of him.

She looked stunned; more stunned even than her daughter had been.

And every vestige of color seeped from her face.

“Oh, hi.” Her voice was flat. “It’s you.”

CHAPTER THREE

WOW, that was some warm welcome!

Jedidiah grasped the knob of the newel post for support as shock hurtled his giddiness to new heights. And added to his shock was jaw-dropping awe: this woman was gorgeous.

Not only was she gorgeous, she was the vision who’d appeared at his hospital bedside. No angel, but his wife.

He gaped at her as she started slowly down the stairs.

Sarah Morgan was a fragile blonde, with smooth, silky hair parted on the left. It curved out bell-like around her heart-shaped face, ending in a loose wave that brought the tips in to brush against her neck then flip out again. Her skin was clear, her nose was straight…and her gray eyes were fixed on him warily.

“I was going to drive to the hospital and pick you up.” Her voice was low and melodic, with a husky timbre.

He found it incredibly sexy.

Something stirred deep inside him.

“The nurse said she’d call me.” She trailed her left hand down the railing as she descended. A delicate gold band glinted on her ring finger. “After the doctor had checked you out.”

She was straight shouldered and leggy, fine boned and elegant. And though the voluminous shirt billow ing out over her jeans concealed her shape, he had no problem envisioning a curvy little figure under the crisp white cotton.

She’d reached the last step and was only an arm’s span away. To his astonishment, he saw she was trembling.

He reached out and took possession of her left hand. She started. Tried to tug it free. As she did, her perfume drifted to him, sweet roses spiced with carnation. Feminine and tantalizing. He tightened his grip.

“Well, hi, Mrs. Morgan,” he said softly, caressing her wedding band with the pad of his thumb. “How about a ‘Welcome home’ kiss for the injured warrior?”

Her lips parted in a gasp.

Her eyes sparked with indignation.

Her body language screamed rejection.

He did a mental double take. Had they quarreled before the accident? If so, whose fault had it been?

His, apparently!

Oh, what the heck—whoever had been at fault, it was time to make up. And the making up, he figured with a sense of pleasurable anticipation, would be fun.

Keeping her wrist trapped with one hand, he slid the fingers of the other through her hair to cup her head. And before she could catch her breath, he leaned forward and claimed her parted pink lips with his own.

From a foggy distance, he heard a child’s giggle.

“Jamie,” his daughter whispered, “Daddy’s kissing Mommie.”

But Mommie, Jedidiah realized with an uneasy jolt, wasn’t kissing Daddy back. And he’d enjoyed only a brief taste of satin-soft, heavenly sweet lips when she wrenched herself away from him.

Her next move stunned him: she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. And what stunned him even more than her undisguised disgust was the rage in her glare.

“That was inexcusable!” she hissed. “I know you want to get rid of me, but that’s a despicable way to go about it—taking advantage of me. Especially in front of the children!”