Читать книгу Husbands, Husbands...Everywhere! - Sharon Swan - Страница 12

His wife. Ryan stood stock-still while his mind groped to take it in. His first thought was that it couldn’t be. His personnel file had indicated nothing about a wife. No one he’d talked to since the accident had so much as mentioned a wife. For God’s sake, he couldn’t have a wife!

Then again, she’d said ex-wife, he reminded himself. At least he could remember that much. Belatedly, at any rate.

“When exactly were we on this honeymoon?” he managed to get out before another huge sneeze racked him.

His companion arched a tawny brow. “I think we’d better continue this discussion elsewhere, after we find you another room.”

“Right.” He reached up and rubbed an eye, damn thankful that his hand was still steady.

She started to turn, then swung back to him, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “Uh, now that I think about it, none of the other rooms on this side of the house is available at the moment. Ethel’s got them torn apart for the cleaning service to do their thing tomorrow so we can have them ready for more guests due to arrive this weekend.” She hesitated. “There is a spare room available in the family area that I suppose you could use. It’s at the other end of the hall.”

Probably close to her own, he couldn’t help thinking. Maybe that was why she seemed far from pleased at the prospect of letting him sleep there. Whatever the case, right now he didn’t care whether she was thrilled or not. He wanted to get going and get some answers.

Ryan crossed the room in his bare feet, snatched the shirt he’d worn earlier from the chair and pulled it on, leaving it to hang open, then grabbed his wallet from an old dresser painted sunny yellow and stuffed it in a back jeans pocket. Since he’d been sleeping in no more than his skin, he figured he was set for the night. “Let’s get out of here.”

After another second’s pause, she dipped her head in a nod. “Okay. I’ll show you where the spare room is, and then we can talk downstairs. I could use a cup of tea.”

“I could use a stiff drink,” he didn’t hesitate to counter as he shut the door behind him with a soft thud and followed her down the hall.

“Well then, you’re in luck. My godmother’s new groom keeps a small stock of beer that’s touted to be Colorado’s finest in the refrigerator.”

“Sounds good,” he had to admit.

“I thought it would,” she told him, tossing the words over her shoulder. “Especially to you.”

He frowned. “Why especially to me?”

She marched ahead, spine ramrod straight, her robe swishing as she walked. “Because you were partial to that brand of beer at one time, particularly when you were in the mood to throw a party. Which, trust me, was often.”

He didn’t take that as a compliment. “How often?”

“Often enough to have the neighbors longing for some peace and quiet.”

HE WAS STILL mulling over that zinger when they faced each other across a butcher-block table set at one side of a large kitchen that was a study in contrasts, the chief of them being an old-fashioned black stove that stood next to a modern stainless-steel refrigerator. The red-and-white checkered floor looked to be far from new despite a waxy sheen, but the gleaming dishwasher set under the cocoa-colored counter and beside a porcelain sink was another story.

Ryan took a lengthy swallow from an ice-cold bottle and placed it on the table. He was more than ready for some firm facts, ones that went beyond his past partying habits. Now that the shock had worn off enough to consider a few things, he found he had no doubt about his having once been intimately involved with the woman sitting across from him sipping her tea. His body, he thought, had recognized her right off and responded accordingly. At this very moment, he knew his eyes would have found it no hardship to wander over the silky green fabric covering her breasts. Breasts that he must once have done more than look at. Yes, indeed. He had no doubt about that, either. He’d have done a lot more than look.

Haul in your libido, Larabee. It’s past time to get a few answers.

Ryan reclined in the ladder-back chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “As I asked between sneezes upstairs, exactly when were we on this honeymoon?”

Abby set her delicate china cup down on a matching saucer. “You’re not questioning that we did in fact have one?”

“Not at the moment,” he replied, and left it at that.

“Well then, whether you choose to believe it happened or not, we met in Tucson nearly seven years ago, in the lounge area of a restaurant near the University of Arizona where some of my friends and I were celebrating the fact that we’d graduated from U of A earlier that day. You asked me to dance. I accepted. It was pretty much a whirlwind courtship. We eloped on a scorching hot day in July, got married at a small wedding chapel on our way south, and honeymooned in Mexico.”

He didn’t move a muscle as he absorbed that information. “And when did we part company?”

“Barely a year later.”

“Not one of the longest marriages on record,” he said.

Her lips, moistly pink despite no trace of makeup, twisted. “I suppose that sums it up.”

“Who wanted the divorce?”

She looked him straight in the eye. “I did.”

Why? He caught the thought back before he could voice it. Something told him he wasn’t going to like the answer. “And we haven’t seen each other for six years?”

“No contact at all since we left the courthouse in Tucson. We had no major joint assets, like a home, and with no children involved, there was little reason to keep in touch.”

He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. “At least that explains why you weren’t listed in my personnel file. I joined the Border Patrol five years ago. They’d have done a background check at the time, but they wouldn’t have been looking for ex-wives.” And he must’ve kept mum about the brief marriage when it came to his fellow agents, he thought to himself. They might be nearly as amazed to learn what he had just discovered as he’d been. As for where his copy of the marriage—not to mention divorce—papers were, he’d come across a key for a safe deposit box, one he hadn’t checked out yet.

“The personnel records showed my parents as deceased,” he added, “and a sister living in Wyoming as next-of-kin.”

“Mmm-hmm. Have you spoken to her?”

“No, not yet.” That was something else he’d been meaning to do. “If I had contacted her, she’d probably have broken the news before you rocked me back on my heels with it.”

“She might have mentioned me,” Abby agreed. “Certainly she knew I had joined the family. We talked on the phone a few times and exchanged Christmas cards one year. I wanted to visit her and you said we would, but we never got around to it. You always seemed to be too busy. Back then you were working as a freelance pilot, and you loved your job.”

“More than I loved to party?” he couldn’t help asking in a tone as dry as dust.

“Yes,” she replied calmly. “Freelance work seemed to suit you to a T. I’d ask why you gave it up…but I bet you don’t know, do you?”

It was his turn to meet her gaze head-on. “No.”

Abby leaned forward and propped her elbows on the table, deciding it was time she asked some questions. Especially one. “What happened, Ryan?”

After a second’s hesitation, he heaved a gusty sigh. “Unfortunately, I’m not real clear on that subject. The first thing I remember is coming to on a flat stretch of desert a few miles north of the border with the wind howling in my ears. I was strapped into a helicopter that was a lot worse for wear. Apparently I’d set it down during one devil of a spring dust storm—or maybe crash-landed would be a better description.”

God, he might have been killed. That was all she could think. A chill ran down Abby’s spine at the realization of just how close he’d probably come to total disaster.

“I drifted in and out of consciousness. Mostly out, I imagine. The next thing I knew, a state highway cop was looking me straight in the eye and asking who I was.” Ryan chuckled, but the sound held no humor. “I guess it was a helluva shock to both of us when I had to tell him I didn’t have a clue.”

Abby frowned. “You don’t remember anything at all?”

He shook his head. “Not about me. The only way I can explain it is that I have no trouble recalling the mechanics of how to drive, but what kind of cars I’ve driven in the past are another thing altogether.”

“What do the doctors say?”

He lifted a broad shoulder in a shrug. “That it could all come back to me tomorrow. Then again, it might take a lot longer than that. Head injuries are apparently chancy. One thing for dead sure, people in white coats have done enough poking and prodding to last me a lifetime.”

The clipped edge to that last comment told her he’d be happy to drop the subject. She could understand why, too. It had to be frustrating beyond belief to have no idea when the memories would return, or even if they would, totally. And he’d injured more than his head. Now she knew the reason for the slight limp she’d caught earlier. “How’s your leg?” she inquired mildly.

A rueful expression crossed his face. “I guess I didn’t fool you, huh?”

“You nearly did,” she told him. “It wasn’t that noticeable.”

“I don’t notice it much myself anymore,” he said. “It was probably the long drive this morning that did it. The muscles seem to knot up when I’m sitting too long.”

“You drove up from Douglas?” she asked, recalling the address he’d given as his residence when he’d checked in.

“Uh-huh.”

The location had made sense to her once he’d revealed his current government employer. Douglas, a smaller city at Arizona’s southern tip, was much closer to the border than Tucson. But both were a long way from where he was now. And that brought up another question. “Why did you come to Harmony?”

He met it with a question of his own. “Do you know a guy named Jordan Trask?”

She shook her head.

“He used to be with the Border Patrol before he moved here. He called me yesterday after hearing about the accident from someone else we both worked with down south. Trask didn’t waste any time in suggesting that I get away for a while and give this town a try.” Ryan grimaced wryly. “Actually, he flat-out ordered me to get my butt in gear and haul myself up here. Said this place would make a new man of me.”

Abby had to smile. “Sounds like he might be a good friend to have.”

“I can’t argue with that. He says we’ve known each other for as long as I’ve been with the agency.”

But Ryan didn’t remember him, any more than he remembered her. Or anyone else. She couldn’t help but feel more than a little sympathy, yet she held back on expressing any, suspecting it would not be welcome. “Did he tell you about Aunt Abigail’s?”

“Yeah.” This time his low chuckle held some genuine humor. “He stayed here at one point, even raved about the feather beds.”

She laughed and found it felt good, despite everything. “You’ll have to thank him.”

“I will, believe me. I plan on paying him a visit this weekend.”

Abby took another sip of tea. “So you’re staying in Harmony for a while?” The question was as casual as she could make it.

He nodded. “I’m in no hurry to head south again. Actually the people I work for don’t seem in any rush to have me back on the job. They keep telling me to get a good rest. It’s pretty clear that at least some of the powers-that-be consider me a loose cannon right now.” He blew out a disgusted breath. “It’s like I lost my mind instead of my memory. If this drags on, they’ll probably agree to give me a desk job, where they can keep an eye on me while I push papers around, but I won’t be doing any flying for them as things stand, that’s plain.”

There was no hint of anguish in his last remark. None. And that surprised her. “Won’t you miss it?”

“The flying?” His expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t know. I haven’t missed it yet, not especially. It’s the inactivity, the doing nothing besides coddling myself, that’s beginning to drive me up the wall.”

Now Abby was stunned clear down to her toes. Good Lord. He hadn’t missed it.

Blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You don’t think I’m crazy, too, do you?”

“Ah, no, of course not.”

“Then why are you goggling at me?”

She was, she abruptly realized, and made herself stop. “I’ll admit to being a little amazed,” she said after a moment, well aware that was a gross understatement. “Flying was once as important to you as breathing.”

The sheer truth was, Abby thought, flying had been more important to him than anything. Everything. Including her. Once she’d accepted that, she’d known their marriage was in major trouble.

“Could be it was exactly as you say,” he allowed. “Right now, though, it’s as foggy as everything else. If I had to do it this second, I don’t think I’d have any bigger problem figuring out how to fly than I did how to drive. But how it felt to be a pilot is another story. It’s one more piece of the past behind this damned blank wall in my mind.” His jaw tightened. “The whole thing is bugging me, I don’t deny it. That’s another reason I’m in no hurry to go back south. I’d just wind up roaming around my apartment and muttering to myself.”

“You live alone?” Again she tried for a casual tone, and knew she hadn’t succeeded when his eyes lit with a knowing gleam.

“As a matter of fact, I do. Apparently, there’s been no woman in my life lately.” He paused for two ticks of the kitchen clock. “Who do you live with?”

“Cara,” she replied without hesitation. “We’re currently living in my condo in Phoenix.” But not for too much longer, Abby thought with satisfaction. By the time Cara was a toddler, they’d be settled into a real home, one with a backyard big enough for a little girl to play in to her heart’s content.

And it wouldn’t be just the two of them.

“Is she your baby, or have you adopted her?”

That question brought Abby up short. Then again she supposed she shouldn’t be startled to learn that he thought she might be Cara’s birth mother. She could have had several children in the years since they’d parted.

So could he.

But she didn’t think that was the case. In fact, if he were to confess to becoming a father during those same years, she knew it would amaze her every bit as much as his statement that he hadn’t missed being able to fly.

No, she was the one who had taken on the role of parent. Or, rather, fate had given it to her.

“Cara is the only child of a couple I considered two of my best friends,” Abby explained. “I met Elena, Cara’s mother, in college. Elena had huge dark eyes, mounds of curly black hair, and more than her share of ambition. She moved to the Phoenix area after we graduated and made her mark in the business world before marrying. Like Elena, her husband was a product of the foster-care system and had to overcome some real challenges in order to succeed in life. After I moved to Phoenix myself several years ago, I saw them on a regular basis, and they asked if they could name me as Cara’s guardian in the event anything happened to them. I agreed, although none of us expected anything to happen, not as young as they were. But it did.” Abby’s sigh was long and heartfelt. “They lost their lives in a boating accident on Lake Pleasant when Cara was nine months old.”

“That’s tough,” Ryan said soberly.

“Yes,” she agreed, her voice quiet. “Since then I’ve started formal adoption proceedings, which should go smoothly, given that her parents offered me that choice in their wills.”

Abby got up and rinsed her cup in the sink, then turned back to the man still seated at the table. A man who looked entirely too good with his shirt hanging open and his bare feet sticking out from the table. A man who had always looked too good for his own good. And hers.

“So you and the kid are going back to Phoenix?” Ryan said, echoing the casual tone she’d aimed for earlier. Something made her wonder if it was as bogus as hers had been.

“At the end of the month,” she replied.

“I suppose you have a job there?”

“I did until recently.” Abby leaned against the counter. “I was an assistant manager at a major resort hotel, but that didn’t leave enough time or energy to deal with my new responsibilities, and I decided Cara came first.”

He lifted his beer for another swallow. “So you plan on being a full-time mother?”

“For the moment. I can work part-time in a less demanding job when she’s a little older and I’m sure she’s settled.” Abby’s lips curved gently. “We had some hurdles to cross during our first months together, but we both came through fine.”

“Well, that baby may have me mixed up with somebody’s granddaddy, but she looks healthy enough,” Ryan allowed. “Maybe you should get her eyesight checked, though.”

Abby swallowed a laugh. “I think her eyes are fine. And as for the rest of her, she has a handsome pediatrician who plans to make sure she stays healthy.”

As if he’d sensed something in that last comment, Ryan slowly straightened in his chair. “Dedicated man?” he asked, lifting a brow.

“Definitely.”

Abby pushed away from the counter and started for the door to the hall. She knew she didn’t need to expand on that, knew it was none of Ryan Larabee’s business what she planned on doing with her life, knew she’d probably be better off just going back to bed and leaving him without another word. None of that stopped her from halting in the doorway and aiming a look over her shoulder. She simply couldn’t resist.

“Not only dedicated,” she added with determined good cheer, “but excellent father material. That’s why I had to seriously consider his offer when he asked me to marry him.”

Ryan stilled completely. His gaze locked with hers. “What,” he asked softly, “did you tell him?”

“I said yes.”

WELL, SO WHAT if she planned on marrying a baby doctor? It was none of his concern, Ryan reminded himself as he made his way back to the kitchen the following morning. He had plenty of his own concerns, the chief one being the need for something to jump-start his system before he did a round of the daily exercises the physical therapist had recommended.

Another damned doctor type.

Ryan passed the dining room, currently empty except for the gracefully aging furniture taking up most of it, and found Everyone’s Favorite Grandmother in the kitchen, wearing another ruffled apron and humming what sounded like a classic rock-and-roll tune as she stood at the stove. Rock and roll? Nah, he decided as he stopped in the doorway. “I know it’s not quite breakfast time, but do you think I could beg a cup of coffee?”

Ethel turned and beamed a smile his way. “Well, of course, Ryan. Have a seat and I’ll pour it for you.”

“I can get it,” he said, pleased to note that the coffeemaker on the counter had already done its job. “Just point me in the direction of the cups.”

Ethel did, and he soon found himself seated at the kitchen table for the second time in a matter of hours. Unfortunately, Ryan thought, he hadn’t managed to get much sleep after his ex-wife had waltzed out and left him with her cheerful announcement ringing in the air.

I said yes.

“Are you hungry?”

He blinked. “What?”

“I just put some buttermilk biscuits in the oven,” Ethel told him. “How about a couple of farm-fresh eggs and homemade sausage to go with them?”

His stomach answered with a growl. Food had been the last thing on his mind, but the smells drifting his way from the stove had apparently changed things. “Sounds good,” he had to admit.

“I do love to cook for a man with a hearty appetite.”

His stomach rumbled one more time. “As it happens, Ethel, I think I can oblige you.”

He was forking up a helping of eggs scrambled to perfection when Abby walked in and came to a dead halt at the sight of him. The baby she held immediately flung a sturdy little arm covered by stretchy pink terry cloth in his direction.

“Pap!”

Ryan managed not to wince, barely. “Definitely need to get those eyes checked out,” he muttered under his breath.

“I think she has a crush on you,” Ethel teased.

“I think she has to eat her cereal,” Abby tossed in even as she resisted the urge to sigh, thinking that this man still looked entirely too good, even with his shirt buttoned and a full night’s growth of beard shading his jaw. She was thankful she had traded her nightgown and robe for a sage camp shirt and khaki slacks—not exactly business attire, but, nevertheless, far from intimate.

Right now, she didn’t need intimate.

“The little darling’s appetite is as hearty as our guest’s.” That was Ethel’s contention.

Abby could hardly disagree, since food was undeniably one of Cara’s priorities. With that in mind, it didn’t take her long to seat herself at the table with the baby in her lap. Then she settled into the job of feeding the small bundle of curiosity who, dark eyes wide with wonder, divided her attention between a quickly diminishing bowl of cereal and the man tackling his own meal with obvious enthusiasm.

Not that it was strictly routine for a visitor to be enjoying his breakfast in the kitchen, Abby reflected. Ordinarily guests were welcome to serve themselves in the dining room, where Ethel kept a lengthy oak sideboard well stocked with a variety of hot and cold dishes along with a generous supply of Aunt Abigail’s special sugar-and-spice cookies.

Then again, Ryan Larabee was no ordinary guest. Abby knew that full well—and so did he, she imagined, judging by the thoughtful cast of the looks he ventured her way between bites of food and sips of coffee, as if he were wondering just what kind of wife she’d made. Or maybe, getting down to sheer basics, how she’d been as a bed partner.

Goodness knows, she had no trouble remembering how he’d been in that area. In fact, seeing him again had brought back several details she could have done without recalling. Oh, yes.

“Ma!” Cara suddenly prodded, as though reminding the woman who held her to get back to the business at hand.

Abby’s heart warmed at the sound of a word she was still far from used to hearing. “Well, you got that one right, little dickens,” she said, summoning a smile as she slid another spoonful into an eagerly waiting mouth. “I am your mama now, and I’m sorry I slacked off on the job.”

“I think her appetite is better than mine.” Ryan lifted a brow as he leaned back in his chair, coffee cup in hand, and studied the baby.

“Pap!” was Cara’s response just as the kitchen phone rang.

“Aunt Abigail’s,” Ethel answered with brimming good cheer. “All right,” she went on after a brief pause. “See you then.” She hung up and looked at Abby. “The newlyweds made it back to Phoenix late last night, right on schedule. They’ll be checking out of the airport hotel after breakfast and should be here in a few hours. I can’t wait to hear about their cruise.”

“Mmm. Me, too,” Abby said, even though she wouldn’t have minded waiting for something else she knew was on today’s agenda. Too bad she didn’t have that option, not when it came to breaking some news about the reappearance of a particular man.

Ethel had no idea who Ryan Larabee was, not really. Neither would the happy groom. But the bride was another matter. The mere mention of his name would have her godmother’s ears perking up in recognition. And no more than a glimpse of him would have memories of the times they’d met flooding back. Of that Abby was positive.

Women didn’t forget a man like Ryan. Even women who were old enough to be his mother. Or grandmother.

So when the newlyweds returned, she had to be ready not only to tell them that her one-time spouse had unexpectedly arrived in Harmony, but also to explain why his own past was currently a mystery to him. And then she’d probably have to explain to Ethel, who’d have to be told as well, under the circumstances, why she hadn’t said something before.

Abby sighed. That was a lot of explaining.

What she didn’t plan on so much as mentioning, though, was the fact that the sight of this particular male still had the power to flutter her pulse, and more than a bit. She had no intention of letting anyone in on that little secret.

Especially him.

RYAN EYED the woman with salt-and-pepper hair cut stylishly short standing in the bedroom doorway. The stranger dressed in a copper-colored pantsuit and built along slender lines had summoned him with a brisk knock seconds earlier. He couldn’t help but be glad that he’d already shaved, showered and pulled on a clean shirt and jeans, because it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was being sized up by a pair of amber eyes that seemed to miss nothing.

“Good morning,” he said, when she offered no greeting of her own. He held the gaze he’d had to dip his chin a sharp notch to meet, given that she was nowhere near his height. The top of her head would scarcely reach halfway up his chest. And she was probably half his weight, as well. Nevertheless, formidable was the first word that came to mind to describe her.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked abruptly, her voice soft, the question blunt.

“No,” he said.

Her gaze didn’t falter. “May I come in?”

He stepped back from the doorway. “Why not?”

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” she told him as he shut the door behind her. “I’m Abigail Stockton, though I prefer to be called Gail.” She held out a small hand. “I’m also your ex-wife’s godmother.”

He studied her for a moment. “It seems you’ve got my number,” he said, keeping his tone mild as they shook hands.

“We met a long time ago,” she informed him. “I wasn’t a Stockton back then. I just recently became one.”

“So I heard. How was the honeymoon?”

She arched a well-shaped brow. “Too short. But that’s not what I came to talk about.”

“Somehow I didn’t think it was,” he murmured dryly.

“Hmm. Why don’t we sit down?”

He agreed with a nod and seated himself on the teak double bed while she sank into a leather chair set under a window flanked by ivory drapes. He’d already noted that the room where he’d spent the last half of the night bore little resemblance to the other parts of the house he’d seen so far. Heartily Homey, as he’d come to think of the cozy style, didn’t rule here. He had to wonder if that was the case with all of the bedrooms on the family side of the house, including the one occupied by the woman who had once shared his name. Briefly.

“As I said,” his visitor continued, “we met years ago, not long after my goddaughter began dating you.”

“But before we got married,” he tacked on.

“Yes.” She sat back and gracefully crossed one leg over the other. “Actually, I was the one who advised her to listen to her heart, rather than to her parents’ doubts about the wisdom of getting seriously involved with you.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “I take it they weren’t thrilled with me.”

“Not much,” his visitor acknowledged. “Abby’s parents already had two sons well on the way to being teenagers when she was born. I think she came as something of a surprise to them, and perhaps not an entirely welcome one at the time. By then, the country-club sort of lifestyle they had worked hard to achieve was on the horizon. Howard Prentice had become a senior executive. Lillian, one of my longtime and very good friends, was busy making a place for herself and her family in Tucson society. A new baby didn’t precisely fit into their plans. Nevertheless, they loved their daughter and wanted the best for her, which certainly applied to a husband.”

She pursed her lips. “I have to confess it seems strange to be telling you all this. You were probably well aware of how they felt back then.”

“Trust me, if I was, I don’t recall it. Or anything else,” he added grimly.

Her gaze darkened. “Abby told us about the accident,” she said, her tone gentler.

“Us?”

“My husband. And Ethel. We don’t plan on spreading it around, if you’re worried about that.”

He blew out a breath. “It’s not much of a secret, anyway.” He had no desire to dwell on the subject, though, so he said, “Exactly where did we meet?”

“At a large party Abby’s parents hosted one evening in their backyard. They were celebrating the fact that they had just moved into the house of their dreams. I drove down from Harmony for the occasion, and to see Abby, as well. Unfortunately, I never had any children of my own. Which made my godchild even more special to me, I suppose.” She paused for a beat. “And there you were when I arrived, grinning a wide grin at something someone had said, every inch the dashing pilot. You were quite a sight, I must admit. And not only dashing, I soon discovered, but charming, as well.”

“But not charming enough to win over the folks, huh?”

“No.” Her eyes took on a twinkle. “They had someone far more conservative in mind, a corporate type complete with three-piece suit. Which you definitely were not. You won me over, however, if that’s any consolation. It wasn’t the easy charm that did it, though. It was the way you and Abby looked at each other when you called her…”

“When I called her what?” Ryan prompted at the hesitation, his curiosity stirred.

She shook her head. “It’s not important—and not strictly my place to tell you, when you come right down to it. The main thing is, there was the kind of spark between you two that not every couple experiences, not by any means. I felt it once when I was a much younger woman, but I married someone else, because my parents begged me to be sensible, and I listened. I’m not saying I wasn’t content with my late husband. He was a good person. But contentment is no substitute for love.” A soft smile curved her mouth. “Luckily the man I gave up came back into my life recently and swept me off my feet.”

“That would be the cowboy Ethel mentioned.”

“Yes. His name is Bill.” Gail’s expression sobered. “Bill and I planned to work full-time fixing up the place he bought on the outskirts of the city. Right up to the day before the wedding, that was our intention. And then everything changed.”

“Mind expanding on that?” Ryan asked when she halted.

She ran her tongue over her lips, as if debating whether to say more before she shrugged and went on. “My goddaughter, having already resigned from her job in Phoenix, had agreed to come up for the wedding in late April, help look after things in my absence, and then spend the rest of May here in order to give herself time to decide on becoming partners with me and managing the bed and breakfast. It would have been perfect for her. For all of us, in fact. Bill and I would be free to live out at his place, while Ethel, who needs a job, since her late husband didn’t leave her much, stayed on here. And Abby would have an ideal spot in a friendly family neighborhood to raise Cara.”

Ryan nodded to himself, thinking that he now had a good hunch what had scuttled the whole thing. “And then a certain doctor entered the picture.”

Gail’s gaze sharpened. “So she told you about—”

“The new fiancé? Uh-huh.” She had, in fact, Ryan thought, relished telling him about it.

“Well, that’s what happened the day before the wedding,” Gail continued. “Abby phoned and asked if she could bring a guest, and then broke the news that she had just become engaged.”

“Which put a huge damper on your plans,” Ryan summed up.

She sighed a long sigh. “Lord, I wish it were that simple. I’d give up whatever plans I had in a heartbeat if they stood in the way of her happiness, believe me. The problem is that this man is all wrong for her.”

Ryan felt his brows make a fast climb. “You mean the good doctor isn’t so good?” For some reason it pleased him, more than a little, to think that the guy was a jerk.

Gail squashed that notion in the next breath. “I mean that he’s as handsome as sin and has a list of virtues an angel might well envy. Abby’s parents gushed all over him at my wedding. But, as far as I’m concerned, he’s still not right for her. There’s no…spark.”

As there had been with him. At least he had that satisfaction, Ryan told himself, aiming his gaze past the window to look out at bright sunlight. Not that it should make any difference to him. And not that it apparently did to Abby. Whether she was engaged to the right guy or not, husband number one no longer seemed to be striking any sparks.

Or she’d gone out of her way to give that impression.

“Do you still care about her?” Gail asked quietly, regaining his attention.

“I don’t know.” It was all he could say. “Hell, I don’t even know who I am, not really.”

But he wanted her. That much he recognized full well, especially after spending the last half of the night in a room only steps from hers and wondering how it had felt to have her stretched out under him. His body wouldn’t have objected to finding out, that was certain. His brain, on the other hand, wasn’t flat-out sure of anything. “Right now, I only know who other people tell me I am—or was. Can you understand that?”

Gail shook her head. “I don’t suppose anyone could who hasn’t been in your situation. I do understand, though, that I care deeply about my goddaughter. I am thankful that she’s agreed to spend the rest of the month here, as planned. I can only hope she’ll think long and hard about this engagement, because I would hate to see her make another mistake.” She released another sigh. “I was once so sure you were the right man for her.”

His sudden smile was wry. “Someone told me coming here would make a new man of me.”

Gail rose to her feet and studied him for a long moment. “Maybe it will,” she said at last with a thoughtful frown.