He paused in the doorway and looked at Holly. She was standing at the stove, stirring something in a skillet that was sending up clouds of fragrant steam. God, she was lovely.
And she was his.
He put down the carton, propped one hip against the table edge, folded his arms, and happily observed his wife.
She had the same effect on him today as she’d had when he was still a kid. She’d been so sweet and innocent…from the first minute she’d walked into his life, he’d wanted nothing more than to cherish her and protect her.
Now, at least, he could.
He knew why their marriage had failed. It was his inability to accept his guilt over having taken his beautiful Holly from a life where she’d had everything, to one where she’d had nothing. That was why he’d accused her of trying to play house, because it had killed him to see the change in her—a change that was his fault. Her graceful hands, reddened by housework. Her midnight-blue eyes, shadowed by worries over money. Her back, achy after hours spent hunched over the ancient sewing machine she’d rescued from God only knew where.
Oh, yeah. It had damn near killed him, all right, especially since he knew he’d stolen her from the life she deserved, one of grace and beauty and wealth.
It was guilt that had made him work a thousand hours a day, that had driven him to school at night so he could improve himself and improve their lives. It was his fault she’d lost her old friends, and been too weary to make new ones. No wonder she hadn’t been as excited as he’d wanted her to be about his successes. What could he possibly have expected the night he came home all excited about winning a contract and she’d said she really didn’t give a damn?
He’d thought it meant she didn’t give a damn about him.
Nick shook his head. He understood now. What she’d really meant was that he’d neglected her. Well, he’d never neglect her again. Hell, he’d pamper her as she’d never been pampered, fill her life with luxuries, see to it that she had everything she could possibly want.
Love, swift as an avalanche, swept through him.
‘Holly,’ he said, and when she turned to him, her face lighting with as much joy as surprise, he was lost. He crossed the room with quick, purposeful steps, took the spoon from her hand and pulled her tightly into his arms. ‘I love you,’ he whispered, and kissed her.
‘Wow,’ she said, laughing when he let her breathe again. Her eyes were bright with happiness. It thrilled him to know he’d put that glow on her face. ‘What did I do to deserve that?’
Nick grinned. ‘It’s not you,’ he teased, ‘it’s whatever you’re cooking up in that pan.’ He leaned past her and took an exaggerated sniff. ‘Man, oh, man, what is that? Some secret French sauce?’
‘Oh,’ Holly said with a coy smile, ‘it’s just something I whipped up.’ She laughed, gently shoved him away, and turned off the gas under the skillet. ‘It’s drawn butter, you big jerk. For the lobster.’
‘Ah.’ Nick laughed. ‘Well, that’s pretty exotic.’
Holly smiled. ‘You’re right. After all, this is a special occasion.’
‘Yeah.’ He grabbed her around the waist, spun her towards him, and kissed her again. ‘Darned right it is.’
* * *
An hour later, Nick stared in amazement at the pile of lobster shell fragments heaped on the plate between them.
‘Tell me we didn’t eat all that,’ he said.
‘Okay. We didn’t.’Holly grinned. ‘You ate most of it.’
Nick slapped his hand over his heart. ‘The woman’s trying to hurt my feelings! Me? Eat all that lobster?”
‘You liked it, hmm?’
‘Liked it? I loved it.’ Nick reached for her hand and twined his fingers through hers. “Fess up, babe. That wasn’t just plain old butter.’
Her smile broadened. ‘You’re right.’
‘So, what was it?’
‘It’s a secret.’
He laughed. ‘A secret?’
‘Uh-huh.’ Holly batted her lashes. ‘You want to know what it is, you’ll have to buy a copy of my next cookbook.’
‘Which comes out…?’
‘A year from July. Of course, I have to write it first, but—’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘Sure I do.’ Holly smiled and lifted Nick’s hand to her lips. ‘I have a contract that says so.’
‘Contracts,’ Nick said, dismissively. ‘My lawyers will get you out of that.’
Holly’s smile grew puzzled. Gently, she disengaged her hand from his and sat back.
‘Why would they do that?’