“You’d be surprised.” She came in, not waiting for the invitation, and swung past him into the kitchen. “Mrs. Williamson taught us all, including Josh, at least the basics. I make an exceptional fettuccine Alfredo. I thought I’d see what you had before I brought over ingredients.”

Seeing her poking around the kitchen as if she belonged there, as if he could come home after a hard day and find her cheerfully waiting for him, tore him apart. So his voice was cool and careless.

“I’m not much on fancy sauces, sugar.”

“Well, we’ll try something else.” Why wouldn’t he say her name? she wondered, fighting panic. He hadn’t once said her name since he’d come home. She turned to him and couldn’t prevent herself from leading with her heart. “Oh, I missed you, Michael. So much.”

She was halfway across the room, reaching for him. He could all but feel the way her soft, delicate arms would wrap around his neck. He stepped back, lifted both hands to ward her off.

“I’m filthy. I haven’t had a chance to jump in the shower. You wouldn’t want to mess up a nice silk blouse.”

Why should it matter? He’d once torn one off her. He hadn’t held her in days. Yet he stood there now with—was it boredom in his eyes?

“What is it, Michael?” Her stomach jittered, echoed in her voice. “Are you angry with me?”

Deliberately he tilted his head. “Why do you do that? Why do you always assume that whatever’s going on around you is your fault or your responsibility? That’s a real problem you’ve got there,” he added as he walked past her to get a beer out of the refrigerator.

He twisted off the top, drank deep. “Do I look mad to you?”

“No.” She folded her hands, gathered her composure. “No, you don’t. You look vaguely annoyed that I’m in your way. I assumed you’d want me to come, that you’d want to be with me tonight.”

“It’s a nice thought, but don’t you think this has run its course?”

“This?”

“You and me, sugar. We’ve taken this about as far as it’s going to go.” He tipped the beer back again, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Listen, you’re a hell of a woman. I like you. I like your style, in bed and out. But we both know we’ve got to move on eventually.”

She would breathe, she told herself. However tight the fist was around her heart, she would breathe, slow and easy. “I take that to mean you’ve decided to move on now.”