Wife In Disguise. Susan Mallery

to greet two men standing in the foyer. One held a clipboard.

      “We’re here to deliver some furniture.”

      “My bedroom set,” Josie said.

      Del nodded. “This is the place. Let me show you where it goes.”

      He and the man with the clipboard climbed the stairs. The day before, Josie and Del had discussed the layout of her new bedroom. The room had been patched and painted. There was a new window in place, complete with a window shade. She would worry about curtains later. The small guest bath was finished, as well. She leaned on her cane and slowly pushed herself to her feet so she was standing when Del came down the stairs a few minutes later.

      “Looks like everything is going to fit,” he said. “There’s plenty of room. They’ll put the furniture together and then you can go up and inspect their work.”

      “Maybe I should start climbing the stairs now so I can be at the top when they finish.” She said the words matter-of-factly. She wasn’t feeling sorry for herself, she was simply stating the truth.

      “I think you can probably wait twenty minutes or so,” he teased in reply. “Or I can carry you again.” He gave her a quick wink. “I like carrying pretty young women upstairs. It makes me feel macho.”

      He was flirting with her. Josie didn’t know what to make of that. She felt herself blushing, which was crazy. She never blushed. “I, um…Thanks, but I think I’ll make it under my own steam, such as it is.”

      “If you’re sure. But my services are available to you whenever you would like. Just say the word.” He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “It’s the dresses. Too many women wear jeans. I’m a sucker for a woman in a soft kind of floaty dress, like you wear all the time. I can’t resist.”

      His words made her start to melt inside. At the same time she felt a swift stab of pain. She’d never been a dress person before. Jeans and sweats had allowed her to move the way she liked. Or shorts. Before the accident she’d been more concerned with being active than being feminine.

      “I’m glad you approve,” she said shyly. “Probably reminds you of your mother.”

      As soon as the words fell out of her mouth, she wanted to call them back. Catherine Scott was the sort of woman who wore dresses rather than slacks. It had been just one of dozens of differences between the women.

      Del frowned. “How’d you know?”

      “Good guess. A lot of moms are like that.”

      She shrugged hoping he would accept her answer. She didn’t want to get into a conversation about his mother. Catherine had been a devoted homemaker and a brilliant cook. A couple more places where Josie hadn’t been able to measure up.

      Del touched her arm. Just a light brush of his fingers, but against her bare skin it was highly erotic. She felt herself swaying toward him.

      “I’ll admit that my mom wears dresses, but despite that, you don’t make me think of her at all. Just so we’re clear on that.”

      “Okay.” She shifted awkwardly, not sure if she should say anything else.

      Male appreciation flashed in his eyes. Male appreciation and something she wanted to think was sexual interest. She was both thrilled and cautious. He couldn’t be interested in her in that way, could he? Yes, they got along and conversation was easy between them, but being naked was something completely different. Besides, he was still supposed to be pining for, well, her.

      “I’ve got to get back to work,” he said. “Kitchen cabinets are calling to me. You have my pager number if you need to get in touch with me, right?”

      She nodded.

      He left and some of the light seemed to go out of the room. Josie returned to the sofa and slumped onto a lumpy cushion. She was playing a dangerous game. If Del was really starting to like her as Rose, he wasn’t going to be happy to find out she’d been lying to him. Which meant she should probably tell him the truth as soon as possible. But she didn’t want to. But she had to.

      She sighed. All right. She’d do it the next time she saw him. No matter what, she would explain who she was and why she’d returned. He would understand…eventually. She would explain everything until things were all right between them again. And then they would decide what they each wanted from the other. Which meant that between now and then she had to figure that out for herself.

      

      By five-thirty that afternoon, everyone was gone. Josie stood alone in the nearly empty house and listened to the silence. The sharp smell of paint blended with the homey scent of cut wood. She felt a little lost and lonely, but it was still better than being in a hotel—or worse, a hospital.

      After the crew had left, she’d brought in her suitcases. She had four small ones, because they were more manageable for her than one large one. She’d already carried the first one up the stairs and would tackle the rest over the course of the evening. The remaining three were positioned neatly by the foot of the stairs.

      Using her cane to assist her movements, she walked into the parlor that she was going to make into a living room and library. The chair rail had been removed from the two walls that would support the built-in bookshelves. White patches to repair cracks and nail holes contrasted with the light-green paint favored by the previous owner. Notations on the wall showed where the frame for the shelves would go. Del had explained they were being custom built at the company’s main workshop and would be installed in pieces. Her kitchen cabinets would come in the same way.