“It worked out.” Nick shrugged.
There was an awkward silence, then Marla said, “I should check on the kids.”
Alex was already crossing the hall to Cissy’s room. “I’ll handle it.”
“Will you? Thanks,” she said, then with a final look over her shoulder, she met Nick’s gaze again. “Good night, Nick.” God, she looked vulnerable. Unsteady. So unlike the Marla he knew, the woman he tried to avoid.
He lifted his near-empty glass in a mock salute. “Night.”
Marla’s heart twisted as she slipped through the door and on the other side, in the suite, she tried to force his image from her mind.
Don’t do this to yourself, her tired brain nagged as she made her way to her room. Yes, he saved your life, but you owe him nothing. Nothing. These conflicted feelings you have for him have got to end. You’re married to Alex.
At that thought her stomach curdled. There was nothing between them, no spark, no love. If she’d ever been in love with her husband it had been years ago, or lost in the fog that was her memory. Give it time. Soon you’ll remember, soon you’ll know why you fell in love with Alex and this sexual attraction to Nick will seem silly.
But she was lying to herself. The feelings Nick aroused in her, the basic female response was something that she knew was unique. “Don’t even think of it,” she told herself. The blue seduction of his eyes was unthinkable. She was married. She had children. She . . . she . . . oh, God, she was falling in love with him. “You don’t really know him,” s
he said aloud, seeing her reflection in the mirror and inwardly cringing, for though her face was still unfamiliar to her, she recognized restless desire in her own gaze. “Oh, you’re an idiot.” Her fingers drummed on the dresser and she stared at the jewelry box. The one without her ring. There were just so many things about her life that didn’t seem right.
Frustrated, she unbuttoned her coat and flung it on the bed. She’d just unzipped the top of her jogging suit when there was a light rap on the door and Alex poked his head inside her room.
“I just wanted to report on the kids,” he said and she resisted the urge to pull the zipper tab to her neck. Her bra was showing, the tops of her breasts and abdomen bare and she felt as naked as if she was wearing nothing. His eyes flicked down her torso, but he didn’t comment. “They’re both sleeping.”
“Good.” Hot embarrassment washed up the back of her neck.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“Not that I can think of.” She just wanted him to leave. Now.
“I’ll tell Tom about the medication. He’ll see that you get it on time.”
She shook her head. “Don’t bother him, I think I can handle it myself. Just leave the pills and believe me, when the pain hits I’ll take them.”
Alex’s calm disappeared. Irritation tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s not argue any more tonight, okay? Especially about Tom. He’s a professional. He’ll take care of this.” Alex’s voice was firm. Authoritative. Commanding.
Marla nearly snapped back a hot retort, but managed to hold her tongue. She was too tired to argue. For the moment. Tomorrow, she’d set things straight. “Fine.”
“Now,” Alex said, his tone softer and more conciliatory when he realized she wasn’t going to fight. “I’ll see you in the morning—”
“Wait,” she said, a sudden thought striking her. He turned and she held up her right hand and wiggled her ring finger. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my ring?”
“You remember it?” He was incredulous.
“I wish. I only know about it because Joanna brought it up. I thought you might know where it is—where I might put it when I take it off.”
“Probably in here somewhere, I’d guess.” He motioned with a sweeping hand to her bedroom.
“It’s not. I looked. Top to bottom. Isn’t that strange? Joanna thinks that I always wore it and that someone at the hospital might have stolen it.”
“I doubt it. Maybe you should look again.” Alex shifted from one foot to the other, then checked his watch. “You’ve had a lot to take in the past few days, Marla. The ring is the least of your worries.”
“Joanna said it was a gift from my father.”
“Conrad gave you lots of gifts.”
“Did he?” That surprised her. She’d seen enough photographs of her stern-faced father and when she’d looked at them, trying to conjure up some memory of the man, she’d intuitively felt that they’d never shared so much as a joke together, that he didn’t really like her. She’d sensed that Conrad Amhurst was a self-driven man who had little time for his children and she had no sensation that he’d ever been close to her, that in fact, just the opposite was true. Though she couldn’t recall him, she felt in her gut that he hadn’t liked her, that she’d somehow been a disappointment.
Perhaps it was because she was his daughter; not a first-born son. That archaic way of thinking should have gone out with the Dark Ages, but she had the sense it still very much existed; her son James was a prime example of being the exalted prince while his older sister held a grudge, with a very large chip on her shoulder, for being ignored.