He was so stunned that he could hardly speak and he didn't dare move, choosing instead to stare at her in disbelief.
"Daphne, I-."
She grabbed a towel and held it in front of her, submerging half of it in the tub in a rather humorous attempt to cover herself.
"What are you doing in here?" She yelled. "Get out! Get out of this tub right now! Do you hear me?"
He hurried to climb out of the tub as the water rolled back and forth like a tsunami, splashing onto the tile floor.
"Daphne, I'm sorry. I-."
"You should be sorry! Just get out of here before I call the police! I mean it, Dr. Crane!"
"I-I'm sorry... I... just... let me get the soap. I think it fell-."
When he reached into the mound of bubbles, but then froze when his fingers touched something smooth and her eyes widened. "That's not soap!" she screamed. "Now get out! Get out of here and don't come back!"
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry...I-." He scrambled out of the tub, his clothes soaking wet as he daringly stole a glance at her. But as soon as their eyes met, he knew it was a mistake. She began screaming and yelling louder than he thought possible. "Get out! Get out right now!"
Shaken by her outburst, He carefully walked across the tiled floor, not caring that he was spilling water everywhere.
"I'm so sorry, Daphne. I..."
"Dr. Crane, please! Just...Dry yourself off and get out!" She screamed, shaking his nerves even more.
He grabbed his terrycloth robe and pulled it around his body, tightly tying the belt and then took a few towels from the linen closet. In his bedroom, his heart pounded in his chest and although the coolness of the water was welcome on his heated skin, it did little to calm his trembling nerves. He felt completely numb and he wondered if he'd ever recover.
As quickly as possible he dried off and changed his clothes before heading downstairs, for he was sure that Daphne would want him as far away as humanly possible.
When he reached the living room, he was grateful for the sight of the champagne bottle which still sat on the coffee table. With a trembling hand he uncorked it and poured a glass, which he drank in one gulp before pouring another. He proceeded to drink a few more, ignoring the dizziness that returned almost immediately.
Feeling tipsy, he walked across the room, paying no mind to the fact that it seemed to be moving back and forth, and sat down on the fainting couch with the strangest urge to cry.
Dear God, what had he done?
He was only trying to make Daphne feel comfortable. She'd been through quite an ordeal and he was sure that Sherry had a lot to do with it. The nerve of that woman!
Well... It was too late to do anything about it now. He'd ruined things between himself and Daphne forever, as well as any chance they might have been given to be together. How could he possibly explain his actions to anyone, much less the woman he loved so deeply?
Was it so wrong to want to kiss her sweet lips? She looked so peaceful in his bathtub; an angel under a fragrant mound of bubbles. His heart warmed at the memory, but the warmth instantly turned to pain.
When he heard movement from upstairs, he panicked; his mind reeling with apologies. But he knew that nothing he could say would ever be enough.