Raoul parked the car with precision and walked around to open her door. He held out his hand and she took it. He made no effort to release her hand when they started across the driveway to one of the back entrances.
A night-light lit the hallway they followed to the front of the house. Raoul paused in the foyer and checked the small table at the foot of the stairway where messages were left for the household. There were no messages.
He turned to look at her, saying as they began to climb the stairs, "Thank you for a very pleasant evening, Sherye. I enjoyed it."
"So did I."
"I must admit that it felt unusual."
"How do you mean?"
They reached the top of the stairs and walked to her door, where he paused, taking both of her hands in his and study ing them as though looking for an answer to whatever was puzzling him.
After a moment he lifted his head and gazed at her. "I'm not certain. As a matter of fact, I was trying to figure out the same thing on our drive home. I believe it's something about your attitude."
She blinked. "You mean it's different?"
"In the past, anytime we were in public I always had the sense that you were very much aware of your image and appearance. Even while we would be in the midst of a conversation I invariably got the impression that you were conscious of the people around us, conscious of their stares, almost as though you were playing to an audience." He gave his head a tiny shake as though he hadn't quite found the words he wanted. "You've always been so conscious of yourself, so aware of your own movements and gestures, so that whenever I was with you I felt as though I was witnessing a well-rehearsed performance."
"Are you saying that tonight I didn't appear to be performing?"
"Exactly! Tonight your focus seemed to be on me, on what I said, on the conversation we were having." He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "I must, admit to feeling quite flattered. It's difficult to remain detached when someone so obviously enjoys my company."
"I did enjoy your company."
He grinned. "I suppose that's what made the evening so different. In the past I felt as though I was a necessary accessory to your entrance and evening—I was your escort. I had accepted the role without giving it a moment's thought... until tonight. Tonight I felt as if I was the focus of your evening, a vital, invaluable part." He slid his hands on either side of her jawline and cupped her face. "You made me feel very special tonight," he whispered. "I had never before understood what a touching gift a person's focused attention could be." He brushed his lips across hers, and the words "thank you" wafted between them before he kissed her again, this time with a possessive depth that pulled her into a very heated embrace.
His gentle cupping of her face made her feel treasured and protected while he teased and tantalized her with bis lips and tongue.
Sherye leaned against her closed door, needing support for her weakened knees. With seeming reluctance Raoul eased away from her until he was no longer touching her. Her weighted eyelids opened and her gaze met his. His rueful expression caught her off guard.
"I didn't mean to get quite so carried away," he said. "I want to give both of us time to adjust to some of these changes."
She heard his words with mixed feelings. As much as she wanted to make love to him—and she was very aroused by his sensuous kiss—she also felt a sense of relief that she wasn't going to be forced into an intimacy that seemed too new.
For weeks Raoul had avoided her as much as possible, making his attitude toward her clear. Now he'd made a rather abrupt shift. She was having difficulty adjusting to the sudden changes.
Of course she wanted a healthier relationship with him. At one time she must have loved him very much to have given up her career and married him. However, their situation had changed over the years. From all indications both of them had been unhappy with their marriage and each other.
Until she could better understand why she had avoided him, why she had insisted on spending so much of her time with her friends, she wasn't quite ready to disregard totally all that she had learned in the recent weeks.
Raoul leaned around her and opened her bedroom door. "Sleep well, my dear. We have the weekend ahead of us. I am placing my time at your disposal to do whatever we can together."
"I promised the children a picnic tomorrow beside the pond. They're looking forward to it."
He nodded. "As will I." He paused, as though reluctant to leave her. He touched her lips lightly with his thumb, smiled, then turned on his heel and disappeared into the room next to hers.
Sherye entered her bedroom and closed the hallway door, her glance immediately going to the connecting door between their rooms.
The door was closed. She knew that it would remain closed, at least for now.
While she undressed she reviewed their conversations of the evening. She was surprised that he, too, had noticed the lack of visitors for her. How could she have been so socially active before her accident, not to hear from any of her friends afterward?
Another puzzling item to add to the list of mysteries surrounding her accident and loss of memory.
She waited until she was, certain that Raoul had finished in their shared bathroom before she went in to remove her makeup and get ready for bed. Even without makeup her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glistening. Physically she was fully recovered; emotionally she was improving rapidly.
Her evening with Raoul had given her a great deal to think about.
Once again in her own room, she slipped into bed, convinced she was too keyed up to sleep, but the relaxing comfort of her bed proved otherwise.
❧
"Papa! Watch me, watch me!" Yvette called, playing keep away from a gamboling puppy as he attempted to grab the end of the rope she trailed just ahead of him.
Raoul had been watching her all the while Sherye gently rocked Jules in her arms. Their picnic had been vigorously enjoyed, and the combination of a full tummy and the warm summer air had contributed to Jules's sleepiness.
Raoul had brought the adults a pair of folding chairs and after their picnic on the blanket he and Sherye had gotten more comfortable by sitting in the chairs.
"I'm so glad she's enjoying the puppy. She'll learn a great deal about responsibility now that she has something to look after," Sherye said softly so she wouldn't disturb Jules.
Raoul had been amazed earlier today when Sherye had appeared with the puppy in her arms. She had asked him if he would bring the children outside while she went to pick up a surprise she'd gotten for Yvette.
"That's true. She's repeatedly asked for a dog these past few months," he admitted.
"I think every child should have a special pet to love."
He made a sound of agreement while his thoughts raced. Could a lack of memory make such a profound difference in a person? On closer observation Raoul found more and more discrepancies between the Sherye he knew before the accident and afterward. It was almost as though she was an entirely different person.
How could that be? Of course she was his wife. Unless Sherye had a twin sister who could have stepped into Sherye's life at a very opportune moment, this had to be the woman he's married.
The differences, mostly in attitude, continued to surprise him.
Take the puppy, for example. The woman he thought he knew had ignored Yvette's pleas for an animal, insisting she didn't want a dirty, messy, noisy pet around the place.
Now today she surprised Yvette with a Brittany spaniel, having gone to considerable lengths to find one.
The way she treated their son was another radical change. After ignoring him most of his life, she now seemed to know what he needed before Jules did. She fed him, changed him, coaxed him to rest, all with the minimum amount of fuss, as though she'd spent all of his life by his side.
The changes in her appeared permanent, and to her they were quite unremarkable since she could remember no other behavior. At times like today, Raoul wished his memory could be wiped clean as well, so that
he could enjoy his time with his family without questioning what was happening.
The children had already grown used to picnics and playtime with their mother. He could tell from their conversations that today was a routine occurrence.
The day was a revelation to him.
His eyes met hers and she smiled at him. "Would you like me to hold him for a while?" he heard himself asking. "He looks heavy."
"He's fine," she whispered. "I enjoy holding him, even when my arm goes to sleep. He's growing up so quickly. I can already see so many changes in him, just since I arrived home from the hospital."
Even the dullest person would be able to see how much she loved her son. If for no other reason, Raoul admired her for the changes she had made in the children's lives.
"What would you like to do this evening?" he asked.
"Oh, I haven't given it any thought."
"Would you like to go out somewhere?"
"Not particularly. I mean, of course I'll go if you'd like, but I'd just as soon stay in tonight."
He grinned. "All right. How about a game of chess?"
She frowned. "Do I know how to play?"
"A little, but you've never cared for it. I was going to see if that attitude had changed, as well."
"Ah, a trick question, I see."
"All right. You think of something we can do together."
He watched her cheeks darken to a rosy glow and fought to disguise his reaction to what she was obviously thinking. Perhaps he was being too reserved where their love life was concerned. For whatever reasons, Sherye was unable to articulate her willingness to resume their marital relationship, but she couldn't hide her interest in and awareness of him.
Every time she looked at him, his body reacted to her gaze as though she had physically touched him. Sherye had always been a passionate woman, using her beauty to get what she wanted. Her manipulative technique was another piece of her personality that seemed to have been lost among other misplaced memories.
Raoul found the non-manipulative role she'd adopted since her accident more arousing than he could have anticipated. Her direct gaze withheld nothing, it seemed. Clearly she found him attractive. Equally clearly she had difficulty keeping her eyes off him.
What man could resist such a message?
What man would want to resist?
Now it was time for him to let go of his resentments toward her past behavior and accept the changes in her. He couldn't deny his hope that the changes would be permanent. Even if her memory returned, perhaps she would be willing to discuss the difference in her behavior.
Raoul vowed to be more understanding in the future. He wanted to rebuild the relationship he'd been ready to jettison. From all indications, Sherye was willing to help.
❧
Sherye ran the brush through her hair while gazing at her reflection. She'd slipped on her nightgown after her shower and had intended to read in bed until she became sleepy. Unfortunately she was too restless to climb into bed.
She studied the woman in the mirror of her vanity dresser, wishing she knew her better. She could objectively note her assets and understand why people noticed her. The flaming red of her hair demanded notice. The color seemed to accentuate her fair complexion and call attention to the vivid hue of her eyes.
What puzzled her most was Raoul's seeming indifference to her particular charms. Remembering his physical reaction to their kiss last night, she amended her thought slightly. He was a healthy male and his body had certainly reacted to her, but it was his mind that made decisions for him.
Mentally he had rejected her.
She had no idea how to change his mind. She only knew that she wanted to.. .very much. Now that he had decided to spend more time with her, she was painfully aware of how attracted she was to him. Her heart beat faster, her need for air seemed to come more quickly and even the surface of her skin seemed to tingle with awareness of him.
Her problem was that she had no idea how to let him know, which was one of the reasons she was so restless tonight. She felt as if she was supposed to know how to go about seducing the man, but she didn't! What kind of femme fatale had she become since her accident?
A very inept one, to be sure.
She sighed, placing the brush on the small table, and stood. She turned toward the bed, and it was only then that she became aware of Raoul leaning against the jamb of the door between their rooms. From his relaxed position, with his hands in the pockets of his robe, he looked as though he'd been standing there for some time.
She could feel her embarrassment overtake her, even though she knew there was no way he could possibly know what she had been thinking. She fought to contain the wave of heat that seemed to engulf her. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice sounding rusty in her ears, "I didn't realize you were there."
He slowly straightened, his gaze seeming to go through her thin gown to the rosy skin beneath. "I'm the one who should apologize. I should have tapped on the door first."
She gave a nervous chuckle. "Nonsense. There's no need for such formality between us. Did you want something?"
The grin he gave her caught her totally unprepared. His expression was filled with mischief as well as a carnal awareness of the tension between them.
He moved toward her, his eyes focused on her face as though watching her expression for a clue to what she was thinking. Unfortunately her brain seemed to have rolled over in a dead faint as he approached her, leaving her feeling more vulnerable than she could ever before recall.
"Raoul?" His name seemed to singe her lips, the words coming out in a choked whisper.
"Hmm?" He paused in his approach, less than a hand reach away from her.
She attempted to swallow around the lump that had suddenly lodged in her throat. When she didn't say anything more, he tipped her chin up with his forefinger and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
She shivered at his touch. She felt out of her depth with this sophisticated man who was her husband. She wanted to cling to him and to plant kisses all over hi^taut, well-hewn body. She wanted
Everything with this man.
She flowed against him like melting wax against a contoured surface, molding her curves against him. Her unconditional response gave him all the encouragement he needed. With economical movements he swept her up in his arms and strode toward the bed nearby.
Sherye felt frantic with need. She'd waited so long, too long, for his touch and possession. She clung to him when he began to lower her onto the bed. He followed her down without interrupting the kiss. She made a low noise of pleasure deep in her throat as she felt the weight of his solid body on top of her.
Feverishly she brushed away the folds of his robe, eager to find him. Her touch made him lose any semblance of control he'd attempted to exert over his reactions to her. Raoul lifted the hem of her gown and ran his fingers along her inner thigh.
She couldn't lie still. She felt as though she was on fire. When he shifted she opened herself to him. He needed no further invitation.
With a tiny cry of triumph Sherye wrapped her arms and legs tightly around his muscular body as though reassuring herself he wouldn't leave her.
There was no chance of that, at least not for any time soon. Raoul fought for some semblance of control, not wanting to hurt her, not wanting their coming together to end too soon, but there was no way to slow the momentum of their coming together.
He felt as though he was burning up in the flame of her response to him. With a short groan of relief he gave himself over to an incendiary rhythm that guaranteed an almost immediate explosion. He fought to hang on but it was way too late for any attempt at control. Just as his body took over he felt the marvelously erotic contractions deep inside her that signaled she was with him—as she had been with him—every step of the way.
Raoul was still trying to come to grips with his unaccustomed loss of control when he became aware that he was still lying on top of her and that they were stretched across the bed sideways.
He hadn't been able to get them into bed properly before he claimed her. Not that there had been anything particularly proper in his behavior.
He wasn't at all certain that he was going to be able to move again, but he attempted to relieve her of some of his weight by shifting his arms to rest on his elbows.
Her arms tightened around him, holding him in place.
He tried to laugh, but was too weak. Fighting for breath, he managed to wheeze, "I'm too heavy for you."
"No."
She brushed her mouth against his ear, causing him to shiver. She nibbled on his earlobe and he felt the ripple of goose bumps race along his spine and over the backs of his arms and legs.
Still holding her as tightly as she held him, Raoul eventually managed to roll onto his side, amused to discover that despite his sated condition he was already more than half aroused again and still buried deep inside her.
He wasn't used to such a strong response, either in her or in himself. At the moment he was too involved with what he was feeling to attempt to analyze the differences he'd peripherally noted during the recent firestorm—a firestorm whose embers were already being fanned by the kisses she continued to lavish on whatever part of his body she could reach.
This time he tried to set a slower pace. Lfnfortunately, once control was lost it was tough regaining it, and Sherye wasn't helping in the slightest.
He cupped one of her breasts and nuzzled it, flicking his tongue across the pebbled peak, pleased to see the shimmer of awareness rise in her, as well.
She arched into him, causing his flesh to instantly harden within her. After that, neither could resist the rhythmic move of hips that increased the pleasure of being joined.
He kissed her, his tongue keeping the same inexorable rhythmic pace, steadily increasing the surging, life-giving movement that tossed them back into another explosion of mind-destroying pleasure.
This time they lay collapsed, side by side, their lungs gasping for air, their bodies slick with a film of perspiration. Raoul knew that they needed to move. They would grow chilled once their bodies cooled down, but at the moment all he could do was to lie there with Sherye in his arms and allow himself to drift into a pleasant space of satiated unconsciousness.
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