His knees went weak. It had been so long since he’d seen her that he’d forgotten how beautiful she was. A few curls from that short, inky fracas brushed the corners of her grapesicle eyes. She wore a petite green wrap sweater and neatly fitted jeans that hugged her small hips. A pair of darker green ballet flats lay on the rug next to the bed. Instead of looking devastated, she seemed to be drinking him in, and her smile was almost shy. It hit him like a thunderbolt. After all the agony he’d put himself through, she hadn’t seen the photo! Maybe the ice storm had screwed up paper delivery. But then, why had she moved out?

“Did you let me know you were coming?” she said.

“I—uh—left a couple of messages.” About a dozen.

“I forgot my cell.” She regarded him searchingly.

He wanted to kiss her until neither of them could breathe, but he couldn’t do that. Not yet. Maybe never. “Where’s—where’s your stuff?”

She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“Where are your clothes? Your paints?” He raised his voice without meaning to. “Where’s that lotion you use? Your damn yogurt? Where is it?”

She looked at him like he was crazy. “All over the place.”

“No, it’s not!”

She unfolded her legs, the motion awkward. “I’ve been painting at the cottage. I’m working with oils now instead of acrylics. If I paint over there, I don’t have to sleep with the fumes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Oh, God, he was screaming. He tried to calm himself down. “There’s no food here!”

“I eat at the cottage so I don’t have to run back every time I get hungry.”

He pulled in some air to get his adrenaline rush under control. “What about your clothes? They’re missing.”

“No, they’re not,” she replied, still looking confused. “I moved my stuff into Riley’s room. I hated sleeping in here without you. Go ahead and laugh.”

He eased his hands off his hips. “Trust me. I don’t have a laugh anywhere in me right now.” He needed to be sure. “Have you given up bathing, too? You’re not using my shower.”

She dropped her legs over the edge of the bed, her brow knitting. “The other bathroom’s closer. Are you feeling all right? You’re starting to scare me.”

It hadn’t occurred to him to check the other bathrooms or walk over to the cottage. He’d let himself see only what he’d expected to find, a woman he couldn’t depend on. But he’d been the undependable one, not willing to put his heart on the line. He tried to regroup. “Where have you been?”