Lauren Canan – Stranger In His Bed (страница 5)

“I have work I need to take care of. Henry, our chef, put a menu next to the phone. I have taken the liberty of arranging your first meal based on the foods you generally like. If it isn’t acceptable to you, feel free to order something else. Call the number on the bottom of the menu once you’ve made your selection.”

“That was very thoughtful. Thank you.”

“Your mother’s phone number is on your bedside table in case you don’t remember it.” With a sharp nod, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

What was that all about? She had no idea why simply asking about a name would cause such a change in behavior. His sudden hostility caused regret to surge through her. Apparently there was someone named Murphy who stood between them. It wasn’t a good feeling. How could she remember that name and not remember her own husband? A numbing chill slid over her. Was another man the reason Wade had acted so distant?

A soft knock on her door brought her out of her worried contemplation.

“Yes? Come in.”

The door opened to a stout young woman in a nondescript black dress and shoes.

“Excuse me? Mrs. Masters? I’m not sure if you will remember me. I am Rowena. Roe. Mr. Masters asked me to assist you with anything you need.”

“Oh. That’s very thoughtful. Thank you, but I’m fine.”

The maid hesitated before saying, “I hope you feel better very soon.” Then she backed out of the door.

“Roe?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I think... Could I change my mind? Would you mind helping me draw a bath?”

“Yes, of course, ma’am. I’d be happy to.” She hurried past Victoria and disappeared into the bathroom.

Victoria ventured into the huge closet while Roe started the bath. It was lined with clothing for every occasion. Many garments still had the price tag attached; others were still in the designer’s bag. Shoes filled one wall, and in the built-in bureau, there was lingerie in every style and color.

She was a clothes hog. It looked like she’d bought more clothing than she would need in a year. Maybe two.

“Your bath is ready, Mrs. Masters.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at Roe. “You’re very kind.”

That earned her a surprised, wide-eyed stare from the housekeeper. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Grabbing a robe, she ventured toward the elegant powder room, then on to the beautiful marbled bathroom. The oversize jetted tub couldn’t have been more appealing if it had been edged in twenty-four-carat gold. Across the room, a glass shower large enough to hold five looked equally tempting. But right now, she wanted to soak away the hospital smell. The dull ache in her head persisted, but hopefully the warm water would take care of it. Soon she was lying back, eyes closed, as the hot jets of water massaged away the soreness from her bruised body. She grabbed the liquid soap she’d selected from a wide array of bath salts, soaps and shampoos in a cabinet. Soon she was inhaling the wonderful exotic scent and enjoying the sense of cleanliness it offered.

When her fingers began to get pruny, she knew it was time to get out. After toweling dry, she slipped on the fluffy white robe. She found both a comb and a brush, plus a new toothbrush and some toothpaste in one of the drawers. Standing in front of the large mirror, she combed the tangles from her long dark hair.

As she looked at her reflection, a feeling of unease passed through her. Something was off. It was probably just the bruises and cut lip. She turned her face to the side. Maybe some swelling remained. “Stop it!” she muttered to her reflection. She had enough to worry about without adding to it.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Masters?” Roe called from the bedroom.

Excellent question. Placing the comb back in the drawer, Victoria headed to the bedroom. With the succulent smell of the food being wheeled into the room, she let the internal quandary go for now.

As good as the food looked and tasted, she did little more than sample a couple of the dishes. Her appetite had disappeared along with any positive hopes that coming here—coming home—would rekindle her memory. So far, all it had served to do was add more unknowns to the growing list. She felt tired and melancholy. Her husband’s earlier reaction to her inquiry about the name stirred apprehension. Everything she thought she would find here was still missing. In fact, she had an overwhelming sensation that she didn’t belong here. In this house. She couldn’t explain it, but the feeling was strong.

After the food cart had been removed, she found a clean nightgown, pulled back the covers and sat down on the bed. She really should call her mother. Even though she didn’t remember her.

Finding the number written on a sticky note, she placed the call.

“Hello?” a woman answered.

“Hi, Mom. Mother.” What did she call her? “It’s me, Victoria.” There was an obvious pause on the other end.

“Oh, my dear. You don’t sound at all like yourself. Are you still in the hospital?”

“No. No, I’m at home.”

Another pause. “Are you telling me that man dumped you off at his house and left? That might be a cause of action for abandonment or mental distress. You really should speak with Burt as soon as possible.”

What was she talking about? “Uh...Wade has been with me the entire time. He’s still here.”

“Oh. Well, we will just have to think of something else. Sooner or later Wade Masters will screw up and he’ll pay for it dearly, if you get my drift. If you can find a private moment, it wouldn’t hurt to call Burt anyway. Maybe he can think of another angle.”

An angle? For what? “Who’s Burt?”

“Why, your attorney. How could you not remember him? Do you really have amnesia? Wade said you couldn’t remember anything. You’re making me nervous, Victoria. You need to get over this memory thing before you say or do something that Wade will use to boot you out the door. Call Burt’s office. He needs the information on the driver who hit you, his insurance and such. Look, sweetheart, I really must go. We’ll talk again soon.”

“Uh...okay.” And before Victoria could make sense of any part of the conversation, the line went dead. How odd. Not once had her mother inquired as to how she was feeling. And all that about calling an attorney. What was that? She had no info about the accident and had assumed Wade would take care of it.

She hung up and eased into bed. It felt good to lie down. The silk sheets were amazing, the mattress and pillows so soft, especially compared to the bed at the hospital. Her vision again fell on the painting above the mantel. What was it about the painting that called to her? Surely Wade would know. But was it somehow related to what had caused his hostile reaction earlier?

She still had the dull throbbing in her head, though it wasn’t bad enough to get up and take one of the pills Dr. Meadows had prescribed. She didn’t know if it was caused by the accident, being in this strange unwelcoming monstrosity of a house, or Wade’s show of anger and the anxiety she’d felt at his reaction. But neither the bath nor putting some food in her stomach had eased the pain totally. Maybe when she woke up everything would be back to normal.

Whatever normal was.

Three

Wadding another piece of printer paper into a tight ball, Wade tossed it against the far wall with the idea of bouncing it into the trash can below. There were significantly more small white balls on the floor than in the basket. He didn’t care.

She could bloody well remember the name of one of her lovers but not her husband? That was a hell of a thing to admit. His irrational irritation continued to mount as he sat at his desk, trying to drum up sufficient enthusiasm to concentrate on the work in front of him.

Of course, she wasn’t really his wife in the biblical sense. And considering their history, he really shouldn’t be surprised or affected either way. But she had drawn him in with the sweet, innocent act, then waylaid him when he wasn’t expecting it. One minute she seemed so innocuous...so...not Victoria. Those lilac-blue eyes—which had never seemed so blue—radiated such warmth, need and an almost childlike innocence. She’d silently implored him to help her. Then in the blink of an eye she was dredging up memories of some man. It was Victoria at her best. He snatched another sheet of paper from the printer tray. If ex-lovers were what it took to help her memory return, they definitely had a problem. He didn’t know all their names, and he didn’t care. But they were not going to visit her here. Just the thought of it had him again gritting his teeth. Another ball sailed through the air. Another miss.

He ran a hand over his mouth, sat back in the chair and took a deep breath. This entire situation had begun as one of those Why didn’t I think of this before? ridiculously brilliant ideas. Or so it had seemed at the time. Victoria’s father had given her a taste of high society before he lost everything by making foolish moves in commodities trading. Even when she had been poor as a church mouse, she had continued to maintain the facade of wealth and privilege, which was exactly what Wade had needed: a beautiful woman who knew how to dress and function skillfully at social gatherings, and who epitomized a billionaire’s wife. In that regard, Victoria was exceptional. She could even do happy if he pressed her on it. What she couldn’t do was discretion. He’d soon discovered Victoria didn’t know the meaning of the word.