by Noelle Adams
“Aren’t you going to ask about my day?” Mary asked, opening her eyes enough to peer at Anne through her lashes. Mary was about the same size as Anne—short and very curvy. Her hair was coming out of a clip, and one of the buttons on her blouse was undone.
“I’m sure it was busy,” Anne said, trying to forestall a long rehearsal of all the ills of the day. Mary liked attention, and she liked to complain. She enjoyed nothing so much as listing all her various burdens and mistreatments.
Like their father and older sister, Elizabeth, Mary was a doctor. Elizabeth was a surgeon, and Mary and their father shared a family practice in town. Anne had all the appropriate respect for what her family had accomplished.
But she didn’t have to be a doctor to be a successful, worthwhile individual, and no one in her family had ever seemed to realize that.
“It was. One appointment after another, and most of them were crying and snotting all over.” Mary rubbed her head. “My head is aching. Could you bring me an ice pack?”
“Sure. But then I have to go get dressed. I need to be at a dinner at Liz’s in a half hour.”
“What about my dinner? You’re not expecting me to cook dinner from scratch for me and Chuck after the day I’ve had?”
“There’s leftover lasagna in the refrigerator. Plenty for the two of you. Just heat that up, and you’ll be all set.”
“I guess so. It’s not very nice of you to go off partying while I’m suffering at home.”
Anne rolled her eyes as she went to grab an ice pack from the freezer. “Don’t whine. I’m allowed to go to dinner if I want.”
“I suppose.” Mary sniffed and closed her eyes again. “It’s just that Chuck is always out at the gym or playing poker or something, and I’m all alone with no one to keep me company.”
Mary’s husband, Chuck, had learned to deal with Mary’s neediness by spending as little time as possible at home. He left early for work and then worked out at the gym in the evenings. Sometimes he didn’t return until bedtime.
It wasn’t at all the kind of marriage that Anne would have wanted for herself, but they seemed to make it work. Who was she to question it?
“You should go out and make some friends of your own.”
“Who has the energy for friends after working all day and dealing with all this cooking and housework?”
Anne slanted her sister a look, but Mary was vigilantly avoiding her gaze. Giving up, Anne said, “Well, if you don’t want to make friends, then you’ll have to hang out on your own until Chuck gets home. I’ll be late tonight.”
“Why will you be late?”
“There will be a big group at Liz’s, so I’m sure dinner will take a long time.”
“Why is there a big group?”
Anne held back a groan. She really needed to get dressed. “Vince’s brother is back in town, so they invited a bunch of people for dinner.”
Mary’s eyes popped open. “Robert?”
“Yes, Robert.”
“Well, hopefully he’s not still pouting about how you didn’t give up everything to marry his selfish ass.”
“He was never pouting.” Anne wasn’t sure why she was defending Robert. Her family had never cared for him, and that was never going to change.
“Whatever. The last thing we needed was for you to be a military wife. Can you even imagine?”
Anne would have been very happy to be a military wife. That had never been the issue.
Right now she wasn’t even sure what the issue back then had been. She’d been so young. So foolish.
“Well, don’t let him talk you into taking him back.”
“Please, Mary. He’s not going to want me back. It’s been six years, and I rejected him.”
“You never know.”
“I know. I’m going to get dressed now.”
“Okay. Just desert me. I’m used to it.”
Anne ignored that last comment as she hurried into her bedroom.
She still had no idea what she was going to wear, and she had to talk to Robert again in twenty minutes.
EIGHTEEN MINUTES LATER, Anne walked upstairs to the second floor of Pemberley House and told herself she wasn’t nervous.
This was good for her. It was a chance to find closure at last.
She could see Robert and then put him behind her for good.
Start her life over again—better this time.
She could do this. It would be good.
Good.
As long as she didn’t throw up on the way there.
She’d gotten to the second floor and was turning down the hall toward Liz and Vince’s apartment when a voice behind her stopped her. “Anne.”
She whirled around to see Em and her husband, Ward, approaching. The dinner tonight was casual, but Em looked gorgeous and stylish in thick, dark red leggings, a long cream-colored sweater, and very expensive leather boots that came up over her knees.
Anne had thought her dark jeans and blue top were attractive and appropriate, but Em had a way of (unintentionally) making her feel kind of dowdy, simply by how tall, slim, and beautiful she was.
Anne reminded herself not to make comparisons like that and smiled at her friend. “Hey—perfect timing. Y’all can walk in with me.”
Em grinned. “Excellent. How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
Em glanced from Anne to her husband and then gave him a silent gesture of her head. Ward was a big, handsome, laid-back man around forty. He was quiet but always came across as confident and competent. He obviously understood Em’s wordless communication because he let go of his wife’s hand, said, “You look great” to Anne, and then walked ahead of the two of them, leaving them to talk privately.
“Ward doesn’t have to walk ahead,” Anne told Em. “I’m really fine.”
“I know you are. But I can just imagine how this must feel for you, so I thought you could use a pep talk.” Em took her arm as they walked.
“Thanks for the sentiment, but I’m sure I can manage without a pep talk. I just need to focus on not throwing up before I get there.”
“Or when you get there,” Em added with a lilt in her voice that made Anne laugh. “That might be even worse.”
“That would definitely be worse.” Anne took a few deep breaths. “I’m good. I’m fine. I need to get closure on Robert, and this is going to help me to do it. I’ll feel better afterward.”
“You’ll feel much better. You’ll be able to restart your life the way you want.”
“Yes. I can let go of any lingering memories of him.”
“You’ll probably discover that you don’t even want him anymore.”
Anne nodded, relaxing slightly at the possibility. “That’s true. It’s been six years. He’s been in the Navy. He’s going to be different.”
“He’s not the same guy you remember.”
“I probably won’t even like him anymore.” Anne was feeling less shaky now as they approached the front door to Liz and Vince’s place.
“Probably not. You can do this. You’re tougher than anyone knows. You just need to believe it yourself.”
“I do. I’m tough. I’m good.” She gave Em a smile as she let Ward hold the door open for her. “Thanks, Em.”
Em squeezed her upper arm. “You’re welcome. What’s a friend for?”
Anne’s nerves were contained now, and they were distracted by a pressure of affection for Em. “A friend is for exactly this.”
She was smiling and feeling more like herself when she turned toward the living area in the large, expansive room that connected to the kitchen and extended through french doors onto a wide terrace.
The first thing she saw was Robert.
He was standing across the room, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved crewneck. She’d seen him the other day, so she knew what he looked like now. Broader in the shoulders than she remembered. His thighs and biceps were bigger. His hair was shorter, cropped close to his scalp. He had a thick five-o’clock shadow that p
roved he hadn’t shaved for a few days, when he’d always been clean-shaven before. His square jaw had the same cleft, and his eyes looked gray from the distance, although she knew they were actually blue.
Despite her hope that she wouldn’t find him so good-looking anymore, she immediately experienced the same wave of deep attraction as her eyes rested on him. She wanted him.
A bone-deep want.
His eyes met hers across the room, but he didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. Didn’t alter his sober expression in any way.
After a moment, he turned back and smiled down at Riot, whom he was talking to.
Like Anne was nothing to him at all.
It hurt so much she stood in place and tried to breathe. Tried not to sway on her feet.
Em came up behind her and gave her a quick one-arm hug. “That was the worst of it,” she whispered. “You’re tough, remember. He’s not the same guy he was before.”
Anne suddenly realized that that was the truth.
The Robert she’d known had been sweet and kindhearted and almost earnest. He’d had a good sense of humor, but he’d always taken life seriously. He’d always taken her seriously.
The Robert she remembered would never have given her the cold shoulder like that.
He never would have treated anyone that way.
The years must have hardened him, and she didn’t want a hard man.
“Yeah,” Anne said, her voice raspy but her smile genuine. “You’re right. I’m good.”
She wasn’t good. Not really.
But she was stronger than anyone believed, and she was going to get there soon.
TWO HOURS LATER, ROBERT wondered if the evening was ever going to end.
He’d been looking forward to tonight. Not because he wanted to see Anne but because he wanted to prove to her, to himself, and to the world that he didn’t care about her anymore.
It wasn’t really working.
She looked far too curvy and sexy in the jeans she was wearing. He’d told himself she wasn’t as pretty as she used to be, but it wasn’t an entirely convincing thought. His eyes kept lingering on her face, her rounded ass, even when he actively tried to stop himself from doing so.
But physical attraction wasn’t that important, and she was still the same Anne he remembered—still contained everything she might think and feel behind a quiet, impenetrable reserve.
It was that control, that absolute reserve that had broken his heart before. Because whatever she’d felt for him hadn’t been strong enough to crack it. To let her heart rule her head.
And he didn’t want a woman like that.
He wanted a woman who felt things deeply and who wasn’t afraid of letting other people see those feelings.
He wanted a woman more like Riot Berkley, Liz’s younger sister, who’d been at his side all evening, laughing and asking him questions and batting her dark eyelashes at him. She was beautiful with her slender figure, big eyes, long, dark hair, and delicate features. She was the kind of girl who would devote herself to a man completely and wouldn’t hold anything back. She definitely wouldn’t say no to a proposal just because she wanted a certain job.
That was the kind of woman Robert wanted.
Not Anne.
And pretty soon he’d be able to get it through to his heart and his body so he wouldn’t want to look at Anne all the time, even as he was trying to smile and chat with Riot.
They’d finished the main course, and Liz and Vince had gotten up to get dessert ready. Anne was sitting on the opposite side of the table from Robert, but he saw when she slipped out of her seat and went to the kitchen to help them.
That was also the Anne he remembered, always going out of her way to help other people without being asked and without expecting recognition or praise.
He would have been happy to help too, but he was pretty sure Liz wouldn’t let him because of his stupid leg. Besides, he was trapped by Riot, who was sitting right beside him and leaning toward him, giggling as she told him about a “tablescape” she’d done for a party last week.
She worked with an event planner and evidently loved her job.
“And guess what I put in the very middle of the table?” she asked, reaching over to put a hand on his chest.
He felt strange about her touching him that way, although it was a normal flirtatious gesture. He should want it. It meant she was interested in him.
And she was the kind of girl he was supposed to want. The kind that wasn’t going to hurt him.
He felt stiff and awkward and uncomfortable as he stared down at Riot’s huge eyes, and there was absolutely no reason to feel that way. He’d been with plenty of women in the past six years. Mostly for casual sex, but he’d had a few relationships that had lasted a few months each.
He wasn’t still hung up on Anne, so he wasn’t sure why he felt like he was outside his body right now, watching himself try to respond to Riot’s flirting.
He was better than that. He wasn’t so weak as to be hung up on an old memory that didn’t mean anything to him anymore.
He was going to be interested in Riot. He would make himself.
It would be better for him in every way.
He wanted a serious relationship. He wanted to marry and start a family. And he needed to find a woman who wanted to do that with him.
Why not Riot?
Why not anyone but Anne?
He smiled appealingly and tried to remember what Riot had just asked him. “I have no idea. You tell me.”
“It was a dollhouse! It was such a pretty table. Everyone oohed and aahed over how clever and pretty it was.”
“It sounds like it.” Robert had absolutely no interest in Riot’s tablescape, but if he was going to find her attractive, he would need to learn to be. “Did you make the dollhouse yourself?”
“No. I bought it. You wouldn’t believe how hard I had to look to find something.” Riot prattled on and on, and Robert kept smiling and nodding and trying to care about any of it.
The half hour before dessert was done and they all left the table might have been the longest thirty minutes of his life.
WHEN DINNER WAS OVER, everyone took their drinks out onto the terrace. It was a mild evening, and there was plenty of seating for everyone.
Pemberley House really was gorgeous. The landscape lighting illuminated the gardens and walks, and the scent of flowers filled the air.
Robert preferred the smell of the sea, but he would be an ungrateful bastard if he complained about his current location.
Quite unintentionally, everyone seemed to couple up on the terrace. Liz and Vince. Em and Ward. Charlie and Jane. And Robert and Riot. He sat down on a love seat, and she sat next to him.
It was just as well.
This was what he wanted.
But he kept thinking how lonely Anne must feel by herself when everyone else was paired off.
She’d taken a seat behind him, near the railing, so he couldn’t see her. But he felt her presence there, and it ached in a strange way.
He didn’t want to be sitting this close to Riot anyway. She was starting to annoy him. She didn’t seem to be very mature.
But he was supposed to want a woman like her. Passionate. Impulsive. Not afraid of following her heart. So he kept lecturing himself about getting to know her and better understanding her so he could start to fall for her.
She was smarter than she came across. And she did have a sense of humor. And she was very pretty. And all the giggling self-absorption was probably just a pose she put on.
Liz was one of the smartest, most strong-willed women he’d ever met. Her sister would likely be similar.
About twenty minutes after they’d come out onto the terrace, he couldn’t stand not knowing what Anne looked like behind him. Whether she was sad and lonely. So he said he needed to stretch his leg and stood up.
When he turned around, he blinked. Anne wasn’t there anymore.
She wasn’t on the terrace at all.
She
’d left, and no one had noticed.
Surely she wouldn’t have gone home without saying something, thanking Liz and Vince for dinner. That wouldn’t be like her at all.
But then where the hell was she?
“I think I need to walk a little,” he lied, stretching again to make the excuse convincing. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Do you want any company?” Riot asked, starting to stand up too.
“No, no,” he said quickly. “You stay here. I might go the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
To his relief, she didn’t insist on accompanying him, and he was able to leave the terrace on his own.
He limped through the living area, looking around until he finally saw Anne in front of the kitchen sink.
She was doing dishes.
Dishes.
In here by herself while everyone else was outside having fun.
“Why are you working in here on your own?” he demanded without thinking through the wisdom of the question.
She jumped visibly and whirled around. She looked pale, and her brown eyes looked too big, too dark. Her eyelids were too heavy.
She didn’t look like she felt very good.
“I’m just doing the dishes,” she said quietly, turning back to her work.
He scowled and hobbled over with his crutch. “Liz and Vince aren’t going to want you to do all this by yourself.”
“They don’t know I’m doing it.”
“I know that. So you should stop and go back and have fun with the others.”
“I’d rather do the dishes.” She wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was focused on the dessert plate she was rinsing.
It bothered him that she wouldn’t even look at him. He wanted to make her do so. “Who the hell cares about that? You’re going to make them feel bad when they realize you’ve done all their work.”
“It’s not their work. They prepared the whole dinner. The least I can do is clean up.”
“You could at least use the dishwasher. Why the hell are you doing them all by hand?” He wasn’t sure why he was using the word hell so much. He didn’t usually. But he was suddenly bad-tempered and frustrated and annoyed by everything in the world.