Chapter Two

When they arrived at the house, Perry killed the engine, sighed, and released the steering wheel. Then he opened his door, skirted the front of the car, and opened the door for Della. She looked up hopefully and presented him with a forced smile, but nothing in his expression changed. Together they entered the house from the garage.

"Perry?"

He looked at her for a long minute, then walked into his study.

With a prolonged sigh, she mounted the stairs and stepped into their bedroom. There was no point to stay in her dinner frock. Changing into a satin nightgown and matching robe she had planned to wear all along, she looked over at his side of the bed.

Is he still sulking? She was just curious enough to go back to the study to find out.

As Della opened the door, Perry looked up and, despite his intention to give her space, felt a rush of heat wash over him. She was breathtakingly lovely. The gown, or rather, what he could see of it, clung to her curves in all the right places. His fingers trembled and his mouth went dry. When he would have come to her without a hesitation, his conscience smarted.

Oh, no you don't, he cautioned himself, making love to her won't solve anything. She doesn't trust me. She just needs time. And I can give her that.

His eyes lowered from her figure and he went back to reading.

Uncharacteristically misreading him, Della assumed he thought a hundred-year-old case was more important than she was. Very well, two can play this game, she informed him silently. Walking over to the bar, she poured herself two fingers of scotch, neat, and took a sip. He may not care to talk to me, but he's going to listen! By the time she built up the courage to speak, he was ready to break the silence himself.

I can't do this, he told himself in silent anguish, I love her! She's the most important person in my life! And if I have to win her all over again from a ghost of her past, then—damn it!—that's what I'll do! But first, I need information. I need to know if he hurt her. I need to know if she has regrets . . .

Perry started asking questions like he was cross-examining a witness. "Della, who was he? Does our relationship mean anything to you? How long were you engaged? When were you going to tell me you were engaged before? Were you going to introduce me?"

She opened and closed her mouth a dozen times before he took a breath. Annoyance made her eyes spark and her temper steam. With each question, her irritation grew. Loudly, she slammed the glass on the counter and shouted, "Would you give me a chance to speak! I will try to answer you, as best I can. Michael Domenico and I were engaged before I came to L.A. I know I should have introduced you, but I was so surprised I didn't give you a thought."

His eyes blazed like blue fire. The heat ripped through her, and she was scorched. As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she knew he had taken it the wrong way.

" Perry, I didn't mean it like that! I was trying to apologize—"

Perry's head snapped back so fast he thought he had given himself whiplash. "I thought you didn't trust me, Della. But that isn't what this was all about, was it?" He lifted a hand to cut off her protest. "Apparently neither I nor our relationship is of consequence. You didn't give me a thought. I can handle that. It's a matter of hurt pride. But how soon you forgot why we were there. We were celebrating our anniversary."

She looked hard at him, tired of him feeling put upon. "I never forgot, Counselor. But you certainly didn't make it a night to remember. You sat right there, sulking the entire meal! You didn't say a word! Not one!"

He was ready with a temper as hot as hers. "Damn it, Della! This isn't what I wanted! But—I can't do this. Not tonight. I can't stand to look at you. I get it now. I understand why you have a hesitation in marrying me."

"That's not—"

"I will sleep in one of the guest rooms. I can't be in the same room with you." He met her eyes and for an instant his softened. Then his mouth tightened, and he added, "I suppose it's a good thing the office is closed tomorrow, because I wouldn't be able to work with you." He turned around and walked out of the room, leaving a stunned and hurt Della staring after him.

A few minutes later she turned the lights off and climbed the stairs to their bedroom. What now? I don't want to stay here without him. I suppose I could go to Janet's. She entertained the idea for all of a second. That would just heap coals on the fire; Perry hates her guts! I might as well stay here. Fatigue washed over her, and she flung herself across the bed. Unable to stem the tide of tears, she wept. However, sleep was not forthcoming. She tossed and turned, replaying their argument and the events that took place at dinner. The more she reviewed, the harder she cried. And then Perry's words shot through her mind.

I thought he knew he was the most important person in my life! I already feel as though I'm his wife. He is nothing like Michael. Our relationship is so much better than that—that mistake! I was never in love with Michael. But Perry won't believe me if I tell him that tonight. He'll never believe that our love is so much deeper, so much more real and lasting than . . . Her thoughts eventually gave way to sleep.

Unbeknownst to her, Perry was having his own share of trouble sleeping in the guest room. He was still upset. I know it's pride, pure and simple. I know that. But how could she not give me a single thought? Why didn't she tell me about her engagement? All those times I'd asked—begged!—her to consider marriage, and not a word. How could she have just forgotten to mention it? The questions didn't let up. His emotions were out of control. The truth was, he wasn't nearly as hurt and angry at her as he was furious at himself. How could I treat her like that? I didn't even take her arm! She was obviously uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Surprised. And I compounded it. How could I lash out at her like that? The things I said! I know how it sounded. I implied that I couldn't abide the sight of her. But that wasn't what I meant.

She'll never believe me tonight. Even if I climbed the stairs, even if I held her, she wouldn't forgive me for saying those things. She is my entire world, and we can't even be in the same room. And whose fault is that? Mine. We need time. Time to sort out how we feel, time to forgive each other, and time to figure out where we go from here. Perry squeezed his eyes shut, and tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked. Tomorrow morning I'll go away for a few days.

For the next half hour he planned what he wanted to do, including the delivery of the anniversary bouquet for Della. Deciding not to tell her his destination (but making sure Paul knew), he hoped the space would allow her the opportunity to think without him underfoot.

Dawn came. Perry rose, remade the guest bed, and called Paul. Then he slipped out of the silent house and made the long drive to the cabin he had put in Della's name. By ten o'clock he was there, and settling in.

Ten a.m. found Della rudely awakened by the ringing of the doorbell. Grousing, she belted her robe and managed to navigate the stairs just as the doorbell sounded again. The door swung open, and she came face to face with a flower delivery boy holding two large vases of red and white roses. Stepping aside, she allowed him to enter and he placed the flowers on the kitchen table. After the door closed behind him, Della sat at the table, staring at the roses in awe.

With a trembling hand, she reached for the first card. Darling, you are my life, my very world. Love, Perry. She dropped it to the table and pulled out the second card. Bringing it to her heart, she breathed in and out slowly, then read it aloud.

"There never was a time I haven't loved you. I love you, always. You alone own my heart."

Tears flowed. She reread both cards several times, swiping at tears as she did so. Then she realized that Perry hadn't emerged, not even when the flower boy had leaned on the bell. She scrambled out of her seat and stalked toward the guest room. Flinging open the door, she was shocked to see the bed empty and remade. Looking around the empty room, desolation overwhelmed her and she collapsed on the bed, sobs wracking her slender frame.

Minutes passed into an hour. Eventually she came to her senses and reached for the ringing phone. A surge of hope flooded her and she eagerly lifted the receiver to her ear.

"Perry?"

A soft, feminine chuckle derailed that dream. "Sorry, Della. This is Katherine. Katherine Burger."

She disguised her disappointment. "Katherine! What a surprise!"

As it turned out, Mrs. Burger had called with an invitation to join her and some of their mutual friends for lunch. Gertie Drake and Janet Brent. She had debated with herself, then made up her mind. Accepting the lunch date, she figured she could get some advice about the situation.