THE INNOCENT WIFE

CHAPTER SEVEN

Roseanne woke blissfully happy. Her body ached in the best possible way. She stretched her arms above her head and flopped onto her back, then angled her head to the other side of the bed.

Her happiness lasted precisely as long as it took for her to realise that Lisa was no longer there.

Pained memories of their marriage flooded back to her. How many nights had Roseanne writhed with pleasure in Lisa's arms and then woken alone? It was as if the sun had broken whatever magical spell existed between them, and dissipated completely the dependence that kept them together night after night.

She reached out and felt Lisa's pillow; it was still warm. The indent from Lisa's dark head perfectly in the centre. Roseanne lowered her hands and clasped them on top of her stomach.

What are you doing, Roseanne? She stared up at the ceiling with a desperate expression on her face. Leaving Lisa Manoban had been the hardest thing she'd had to do. And her life had hardly been a walk in the park. How could she be so stupid as to fall back into Lisa's bed? Sure, Lisa'd come barrelling to London in the guise of her shining night in armour, but did Roseanne really need a hero? She groaned into the empty bedroom. Three years she'd lived without Lisa, and she'd managed to make a life for herself. So why was she letting Lisa get under her skin all over again?

Nothing had changed. Lisa was still the same confusing mess of impossible-to-understand, desperately gorgeous woman. One minute, Roseanne was her life blood, and Lisa acted as though she couldn't draw breath without Roseanne. The next? Lisa was gone. Poof! Nowhere to be seen.

Roseanne propped up on her elbows and looked around the bedroom they'd once shared. Her nightgown was on the floor. She slid her legs over the side of the bed and reached for it, hooking it with her toes and lifting it back to the bed.

"Still a toe acrobat, I see," Lisa's amused comment made her startle. Roseanne clutched the nightgown to her naked chest and spun around in the bed.

Roseanne's heart almost stopped beating at the sight of her. Lisa stood, dressed in a faded pair of jeans and a white singlet top. Lisa's dark hair was wet - Roseanne guessed Lisa still went for his morning swims - and she was propping the door with a bare foot. Because Lisa's hands were engaged, holding a tray of food.

"What is that?" Roseanne asked, her nose crinkling as she surveyed the tray laden with food.

"Something to start the day with." Lisa stepped inside the room and let the door fall shut with a quiet click behind her.

Roseanne pulled her nightgown over her head quickly, in an attempt to hide her obvious confusion.

"The day?" Roseanne said, finally, when Lisa didn't elaborate.

Lisa's smile was almost as delicious looking as the selection of pastries she could see on the corner of the tray.

Lisa nodded ruefully. She placed the platter on the foot of the bed and then sat beside Roseanne. She picked up Roseanne's hand, and ran her fingers over the empty band on Roseanne's ring finger. The place Roseanne's wedding jewellery had once sat.

"I want to spend the day with you, si."

Roseanne stared at Lisa as though she'd sprouted wings. "But it's a Tuesday."

Lisa smiled. "I know."

"You work on a Tuesday. In fact, you work every day."

Lisa laced her fingers through Roseanne's, and lifted Roseanne's hand to her lips. Lisa kissed it slowly, and Roseanne's pulse began to fire in her veins. Roseanne pulled her hand away and rubbed the flesh, where Lisa's mouth had singed her.