A Marriage Worth Waiting For. Susan Fox P.

to channel-surf and check the weather and market forecasts. He finally made a few business calls including one to the ranch, before he settled sullenly in her living room to wait.

      When suppertime finally came around, he found her phone book, called a restaurant to place a carryout order, then left the apartment to pick it up.

      Selena focused blurrily on the alarm clock on her night table. It was 6:00 p.m. She lay there a few moments more, listening, but the apartment was silent. It was the kind of silence that told her she was alone, so she slowly got up, grateful Morgan had gone.

      She went to her dresser for fresh underwear and a T-shirt and jeans then walked into the bathroom, pleased that she felt stronger. Nevertheless, by the time she took a quick shower and washed her hair, she was worn out.

      Selena sat out in her bedroom on a chair to blow-dry her hair and tried to remember what she had in the kitchen to eat. Her arms tired long before her thick mane of straight hair was completely dry, but it would finish rapidly enough on its own. Since eating something would go a long way to boosting her strength, she got up to make her way to the kitchen.

      The moment she stepped into the hall, she heard the apartment door open. Her heart sank as the sound of bootsteps confirmed that Morgan must only have gone out for a while. She’d forgotten he still had her keys so of course he’d be able to come and go at will.

      Morgan was just walking into the kitchen from the entryway as she stepped in from the hall. The boxes of hot food he was carrying had the name of a local steak house stamped on the side, so he’d evidently gone out to pick up supper.

      The rich, meaty aroma of marinated beef made her stomach clench with real hunger. Hospital food hadn’t appealed to her at all, and now suddenly she was starved. Morgan’s voice was gruff.

      “If you’ve got an appetite, this’ll fix it.” And then his blue gaze made a head to toe sweep of her and his neutral expression went stony.

      He’d noticed that she’d showered, and it was clear he took a dim view of that. At least he’d kept his disapproval to himself. On the other hand, she couldn’t have missed reading it in his face so he’d communicated as efficiently as if he’s said it out loud.

      “Sit down wherever you want and I’ll bring it to you.”

      Selena felt her heart shrink in self-protection. “Morgan…I appreciate the food, but after we eat…” She let her voice trail off. She sounded ungrateful enough without adding some version of “you’ll have to leave,” but Morgan knew exactly what she’d left out.

      “We’ll discuss it later,” he growled, and Selena was reminded of how very often he growled or was gruff. And also that Morgan rarely “discussed” anything. She wasn’t too sure he knew the definition of the word, at least not the dictionary one.

      She offered a lame-sounding, “We can sit at the table.”

      “This one or the one in the front room?”

      Selena felt an unexpected spark of amusement that she concealed. “The front room,” she said, though she was referring to the apartment’s combination living room/dining room.

      For all his wealth and business finesse, Morgan had a very informal manner of speech, along with a few down-home expressions that only a handful of people used anymore. His big house had an old-fashioned parlor that was rarely used, a dining room, a family room, and a living room he called the “front room.”

      Since her living room/dining room was nearest the street, he’d of course refer to it the same way. Household terms weren’t a priority for Morgan, and he had a way of making himself understood that didn’t encourage him to amend his vocabulary. And anyway, he hired others to pay attention to those kinds of things because his domain was the outdoors.

      Morgan waited for her to lead the way into the dining room end of the “front room” while he followed with the food boxes.

      “D’you still eat medium rare?” he asked as she sat down and he put the boxes on the table.

      Selena nodded then remembered they’d need something to drink. She braced her palms on the edge of the table and stood stiffly.

      His low, “Now what?” made her glance his way.

      “I’ll make some coffee. Or get sodas if you’d prefer those.”

      “I’ll get the sodas. You can tell me how to make coffee later.” He opened one of the boxes and set out a cardboard plate of steak and vegetables in front of her. “Looks like I’d better get some decent plates. Where at?”

      Selena sank back down, secretly relieved he was taking over. “Plates are in the cupboard to the left of the sink, glasses are in the one on the right. Silverware’s in the drawer next to the stove.”

      When he went off to get them, Selena eyed the wonderful steak, baked potato and steamed vegetables on her plate. She reached for a pea pod and had a taste, then felt a surprising rush of emotion. Her head hurt, she felt weak again, and she was so hungry she felt like picking up the steak in her bare hands and taking a big bite. Most of all, she was confused by all this, confused by Morgan.

      Though she’d been warned that her emotions might be a little precarious for a while, she was stunned by the stinging nettle of tears that blurred everything and made her want to sob. Somehow she managed to get control of them, but the consequence of that was a pounding headache.

      Morgan came back in with plates, silverware and glasses, thunked it all on the table, then set about shifting her food from the disposable plate to one of the plain white china plates he’d brought in. He did a surprisingly deft job, then opened one of the other boxes and took out a paper bag of Texas toast slices that he tore open and set within easy reach.

      He left to go back to the kitchen for a tray of ice cubes, which he brought to the table, and two cans of soda. Since it would be impolite to start eating before Morgan was ready, Selena fidgeted a little as she waited for him to finish putting ice in the glasses and opening the sodas. She reached for one of the paper napkins he’d taken out and spread it on her lap to keep herself from grabbing a piece of toast.

      As if he’d guessed she was starved and almost couldn’t wait, Morgan’s gruff, “Dig in,” was a profound relief. She did just that as he transferred his own food from one plate to another, then sat down to cut into his steak.

      Selena practically inhaled those first few bites. She hadn’t cared about butter or sour cream until Morgan belatedly reached into one of the boxes to set out little containers of each. When he did, she took one of the sour creams and emptied it on her potato.

      Just like meals at the ranch, this one was silent. Because the work there was hard, the appetites were large and by the time they’d sat down to a meal, everyone was too busy eating to waste time on talk until later in the meal. Morgan was also a creature of relentlessly entrenched habits, so Selena was grateful to take advantage of that and get as much of her own meal down as possible before there was a chance for any appetite-spoiling words.

      She was almost finished before she finally began to feel full. Morgan was still methodically working his way through the food on his plate, but he paused to watch as she reached for her glass of soda and had a first taste.

      “I saw your pictures in the hall.”

      The low words dropped like a firecracker in the quiet room, and Selena nearly choked on her drink. She hastily set the glass down and grabbed her napkin to lift it and briefly touch her lips. She’d forgotten all about the photo collection. Most were of friends, one was of Pepper Candy, her favorite Appaloosa filly. Another was a photo of her mother and Morgan’s father, but two were of Morgan.

      Though both were evidence of the foolish adoration she’d probably feel for him the rest of her life, at least they were scattered among the others and not placed tellingly on her bedroom wall or dresser.

      Thank God she’d limited the display to her two favorites, because she had several more tucked away in one of the photo albums she’d done of Conroe