Married To A Stranger

by Connie Bennett

  She could see how hard Adam was trying to keep his disappointment from showing, but it leaked through occasionally, particularly when he went back to discussing her nightmare—something he did more often than Maddy would have liked. For some reason, he seemed certain it was the key to unlocking her memory, and the pressure he applied when they were discussing the dream was disconcerting.

  It did have one benefit, though—talking about the dream in broad daylight had apparently acted as some sort of escape valve, because Maddy had two consecutive nights of blissfully dreamless sleep. When she awoke on the morning of the fourth day, she felt fabulous—no hint of a headache, no dizziness, and not one of the muscles in her left leg screamed at her. Time had healed the contusion and exercise had strengthened the damaged muscle tissue. For the first time since she’d awakened in the hospital, Maddy felt as though she was in control of her own body, rather than having pain and incipient exhaustion controlling her.

  Feeling energized, she showered and dressed for the day in a pair of lemon-colored shorts and a white tank top, over which she wore an unbuttoned yellow-andwhite-striped camp shirt tied at the waist. She gathered her hair into a loosely constructed knot that kept most of it off her neck but allowed a few stray tendrils to waft around her face, and she even applied a bit of makeup.

  As she’d come to expect, Adam was at the table on the balcony reading the morning newspaper, still dressed in the hotel’s white terry robe. He was sipping from a cup of coffee, but other than that the breakfast he’d ordered from room service was untouched.

  “Good morning, coach,” she said. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

  Adam glanced up from the paper and grinned as he assessed her mood and corresponding clothing. “Good morning, sunshine. What’s gotten into you today?”

  “Two full nights of undisturbed slumber.” She applied a swift kiss to his cheek and sailed around to her side of the table. “I feel wonderful.”

  “It shows.” He folded the paper and laid it aside while Maddy poured herself some coffee.

  “What are we going to do to take advantage of it?”

  Adam sighed. “I hate to dampen all that enthusiasm, darling, but I have to make some phone calls this morning. I’ve neglected our business interests for nearly two weeks now.”

  Maddy was intrigued. “What kind of calls? Anything I can help with?”

  “No, it’s just routine. I have to follow up on a transfer of funds from our bank in Paris to our new bank in New York. And I have several calls to make regarding the shipment of Pere Ruben’s preColumbian artifacts.”

  That sounded so deadly dull that Maddy was grateful he had rejected her offer of assistance. “Are you sure you can’t put them off until later?” she asked. “I was looking forward to tennis or horseback riding.”

  “No, no,” Adam said quickly. “You haven’t been cleared for anything that strenuous, no matter how good you’re feeling today. If Dr. Manion says it’s okay after your checkup tomorrow, then I’ll be happy to beat the socks off you on the tennis court, but until then we’ll find something a little less strenuous to help you burn off all that energy.”

  “Adam—”

  “This is not negotiable, Madeline,” he said in the dictatorial tone that grated on Maddy like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Remember what happened when you insisted on climbing the lighthouse tower. Just because you’re feeling wonderful today doesn’t mean you get to go overboard. Why don’t you go down to the beach and read that book I bought for you in the village? As soon as I finish my calls, I’ll join you.”

  “Sunbathing? What a lovely suggestion,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. She didn’t know which was worse, having physical limitations or a husband who was always right. In a burst of sheer frustration she picked up the serrated fruit knife beside her plate and vigorously applied it to her grapefruit, sending juice flying everywhere. “Why, that was just the sort of healthy, aerobic activity I was looking for!”

  Adam wiped a sticky splatter of juice off his cheek, then unfolded his napkin with a flick of his wrist and held it up by two corners in front of his face. “Why, thank you, darling. I’m glad you like the idea.”

  Maddy looked at the blank white square where Adam’s face had been, and her irritation disappeared. “All right. It’s safe to come out now,” she said. How could she possibly stay mad at someone who responded to her churlishness with such good humor?

  Adam peeked cautiously around the left side of the napkin. “Are you sure about that?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He lowered the napkin, and Maddy couldn’t resist the temptation. Without missing a beat she flicked a perfectly aimed grapefruit seed with her finger and hit him smack in the center of the open vee of his robe.

  Adam looked down at the seed nestled in the dark curls of hair on his chest. “I hate walking into an ambush. I just hate it,” he deadpanned.

  Maddy laughed merrily as she said, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” She leaned across the table with her fingers extended toward the seed, but Adam grabbed her wrist and pinned her with a stern glare.

  “Just the seed, Maddy,” he warned her.

  She widened her eyes in mock disbelief. “Why, Adam, are you suggesting that I might pluck something other than that seed off your chest?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh! What a horrible insinuation. Would I hurt you like that?”

  “Absolutely.” He met her gaze steadily, but the twinkle in his eyes told Maddy he was enjoying their game as much as she was. “If it meant getting the last word or the last laugh, you’d do anything.“

  “You have my word of honor,” she swore raising her free hand. “I’ll get the seed and nothing but the seed, so help me God.”

  “Well…all right.” He still looked dubious, but he released her wrist so that Maddy could dig her fingers into the curly matt of hair and pick out the seed. As she’d promised, it was a painless procedure—for Adam, at least. For Maddy, the contrast of hard muscle, warm skin and soft hair against her fingers brought instant and torturous images of exploring that enticing region more fully.

  Unfortunately Adam had disallowed any such intimacy, and though Maddy occasionally saw signs that he was having difficulty living up to his own rules, neither of them had ventured across the imaginary line he’d drawn between them. Part of her appreciated his restraint; their relationship was complex enough without adding sex to the jumbled-up alphabet soup that passed for her life right now. But another part of Maddy wanted very much to know what making love with Adam Hopewell felt like.

  Adam must have read the direction her thoughts were taking, because as soon as she settled back into her seat he tugged on the lapels of his robe, closing the vee. “Thank you, Maddy,” he said, making it sound like the decree of a benevolent monarch. “Since you’ve just proved yourself to be so trustworthy, I propose a compromise.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “A compromise? It’s a settlement of differences by mutual concessions,” he said with a devilish grin, clearly pleased with his own joke. “You know—give and take. You get something you want and I get something I—”

  “I get it! I get it!” she said, laughing. “I know what a compromise is, Adam. Just state the terms.”

  “All right. You take your book down to the beach—”

  She glared at him. “So far I’m not hearing any compromise.”

  “—and as soon as I finish my calls, I’ll bring a picnic lunch down and we’ll walk down to the south shore,” he said as though she hadn’t interrupted him. “We can explore the beach and have lunch on the catwalk of the lighthouse. How does that sound?”

  “Sensible.” And wonderfully romantic, she added mentally, thinking of Adam’s description of the way the lighthouse had figured into their honeymoon. Considering the line they couldn’t cross, Maddy would have preferred activity to romance, and she didn’t want to be sensible today, either, but she knew Adam was right about not overexerting h
erself. “Is that your best offer?”

  “Yep.”

  She shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll have to accept it, won’t I? Although, I must say I’m a little surprised you’re willing to entrust me to Frick and Frack.”

  Adam frowned. “Frick and Frack?”

  “My bodyguards,” she explained.

  He chuckled. “They go by the names Ed and Bobby, I believe. And actually I’ve been very impressed with them so far. I’ve never once seen their attention wander, and whenever there’s any type of potential threat they’re always right there, ready to intervene. I think I can trust them to take care of you on the beach—so long as you make sure they’re behind you when you leave the lobby.”

  “Aye, aye, coach,” she said, digging into her grapefruit.

  They finished breakfast, and while Adam was showering, Maddy tossed all her beach paraphernalia into the striped bag Adam had bought for her in the village. She yelled goodbye to him, though she doubted he could hear her over the roar of the shower, and left the suite, wishing she was off to do something more exciting than curl up with a book.

  In the hall she waved to the security camera in the far corner and began toying with the idea of defying Adam’s latest edict. If she tried she could probably scrape up a tennis opponent without too much trouble, and watching Adam hit the roof because she’d disobeyed him had a certain appeal. Sooner or later she was going to assert her independence and force Adam to stop treating her like a fragile porcelain antique. When she did, it was a sure bet that the resulting fireworks would put any Fourth of July display to shame.

  But rebelling just for the opportunity to watch Adam explode seemed foolish—even though butting heads and matching wits with him had proved to be the most enjoyable part of her “second honeymoon.” As much as she hated to admit it, he was right: it would be stupid of her to overdo things today just because she felt ready to take on the world.

  She hit the stairs prepared to have to ferret out her bodyguards, but they weren’t loitering unobtrusively this morning. Instead, they were standing large as life at the foot of the stairs, waiting for her.

  Shaking her head in exasperation, she galloped down to the bottom step, stopped and looked from one guard to the other. “He called you, didn’t he?”

  “Sort of,” the sandy-haired one replied. “The security office patched his call through to us.” He pulled a cellular flip phone out of his pocket to show her the method of communication.

  Maddy nodded. “I’ll bet he told you to stay close, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Did he threaten to tear you both limb from limb if you let anything happen to me?”

  The guards exchanged a quick glance and Maddy could tell they were trying not to laugh. “Something like that,” Sandy replied.

  “Then you’d better stick close. One thing I’ve learned about my husband is that he generally keeps his promises,” she told them. “Well, if we’re going to get chummy today, we might as well get acquainted. Which one of you is Bobby?”

  “I am, ma’am,” the shorter, dark-haired one answered.

  She looked at “Sandy.” “Then you must be Ed. I’m pleased to meet you both.”

  She led the way across the lobby, chatting casually with both her bodyguards, but once they reached the stairs off the veranda she noticed that Bobby lagged behind, placing some distance between them. They stayed in that formation throughout the long stroll to the beach and down several hundred yards to the Cabaña, a beach center that offered changing rooms, lockers, refreshments and beach paraphernalia ranging from blankets to balls, to padded chaise lounges. There was even a boutique called Everything Under the Sun.

  While Bobby surveyed the area, Ed escorted her to a relatively uncrowded stretch of sand and helped her set up her chaise. Maddy spread her own beach towel over the chair pad, thanked Ed as he moved off and settled in with The Lazarus Prophecy.

  Thirty minutes later, Maddy closed the book, took off her sunglasses and turned her face to the sun, leaning her head back against the chaise. Adam was wrong. She didn’t care at all for the spy thriller, even if the author was one of her favorites. Apparently, along with all the other modifications it had made in her life, the bump on her head had apparently changed her taste in reading material, too.

  She relaxed then, soaking up the sun, and nearly drifted off, until a rustle of movement next to her brought her wide awake. Everything inside her instinctively tensed. She glanced to her left and found a small thin man lugging a chaise lounge a little closer to hers than was appropriate, considering how empty the beach was.

  Maddy put her glasses on so that she could observe her new neighbor without being obvious, and she decided that there was something disquieting about him; he was handling the chair so clumsily it almost seemed as though he was trying to call attention to himself. She looked behind her to make sure Ed and Bobby were taking note and saw them moving purposefully closer. That didn’t stop her from deciding that this would be a good time to file her nails, though.

  Eventually the little man, who was dressed in plaid Bermuda shorts, a blinding floral-print shirt and a Panama hat that dwarfed his face, stopped fussing with his chaise, but he didn’t sit.

  “Excuse me, miss, are you planning to use that beach umbrella?” he asked her.

  Maddy glanced over her shoulder at the detachable umbrella attached to the back of the chaise. She had been working so hard to get rid of her hospital pallor that she hadn’t even considered opening it. “No, I hadn’t planned to.”

  He took a step toward her and Maddy’s heart leapt into her throat. “Would you mind if—”

  “Of course not,” she said hastily, rolling to her feet on the right side of the lounge so that she could reach the umbrella—and prevent her neighbor from getting too close.

  As she moved, he protested, “Oh, that’s not necessary. I can do it,” but he was too late. Maddy had the umbrella out of its socket before he’d come two steps closer. She handed him the umbrella and he responded with an apologetic smile.

  “Thank you, miss. You’re very kind. I certainly didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”

  “You haven’t at all,” Maddy assured him.

  “They were all out of umbrellas at the Cabaña when I got my chaise,” he told her as he stumbled and fumbled back to his own lounge. “Frankly, it seems like very poor planning—there should be an umbrella for every chair, don’t you agree?”

  “I suppose so,” she said politely, though alarm bells were ringing in her head and her nerve endings were dancing a jig. Bobby and Ed were right behind her, which gave her the confidence to resume her seat, but she didn’t relax. There was something wrong with her new neighbor; she just couldn’t pinpoint it.

  She went back to filing her nails, watching him covertly as he grappled with the umbrella. It took two attempts for him to fit it into the socket, and several more to get it to stay up. Maddy would have felt sorry for him if she hadn’t been convinced that his bumbling was all an act, but it did give her an opportunity to make a few pertinent observations—like the fact that despite his short stature and ill-matched, ill-fitting clothes—was he deliberately trying to look like a tourist?—he was no ninety-pound weakling. The calves of his legs were lightly tanned and as keenly muscled as a runner’s, and the same was true of his arms. He was small and wiry, not puny and uncoordinated, though that seemed to be exactly the impression he was trying to convey.

  The question was why?

  And equally important, why had he chosen Maddy to witness his performance?

  It wasn’t a coincidence. She was sure of it.

  So she continued to file her nails, pretending to ignore him, until he finally settled into the circle of shade he had created. “There now. That’s ever so much better than the blinding sun.”

  Maddy flashed him a reserved smile, certain that she didn’t have to encourage him. He was going to talk to her whether she welcomed his companionship or not. “I’m glad you
could make use of it,” she said politely.

  “Have you been here long?” he asked her. “At Bride’s Bay, I mean.”

  “Four days,” she answered.

  “Then that gives you seniority, I suppose,” he told her. “I’m only on my third. It’s a lovely place, isn’t it?”

  “It certainly is, Mr…?”

  “Oh, forgive me. I should have introduced myself straight off. I’m Arthur Rumbaugh,” he said, removing his hat.

  “Madeline Hopewell,” she responded.

  He smiled at her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hopewell.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MADDY WAS RIGHT about Rumbaugh. Getting him to talk took no effort at all. He conversed on so many subjects with so little prompting, in fact, that Maddy began to wonder if she had misjudged him. It was possible that he’d put his chaise so close to hers for no other reason than loneliness and a desire for companionship.

  Though Maddy allowed for the possibility that he was harmless, she never relaxed her guard completely, and she was relieved when she finally saw Adam coming down the beach with the picnic basket he’d promised. In fact, she was more than relieved. Even at a distance, her husband had the power to quicken her pulse and heighten her senses.

  She waved to him and he waved back, but it was a halfhearted gesture at best. Maddy had learned Adam’s moods well enough to tell from his body language that he was displeased about something.

  Arthur seemed a bit confused—or perhaps perturbed—that she was no longer paying attention to him, and he glanced over his shoulder just as Adam returned her greeting. “Someone you know, Madeline?” he inquired.

  “My husband,” she told him, and then stiffened her jaw to hold back a laugh when Arthur’s face fell like a jostled soufflé. Poor guy. He’d obviously thought she was single and had been flirting with her.

  He sat upright in his chaise, muttering, “Perhaps it would be best—”

  “Oh, I don’t think you need to leave because of Adam,” Maddy said quickly.