Twins times two! (16 page)

Since Ross had offered her a more-than-healthy stipend and a generous budget for household expenses, she visited a former Mom Squad employee who had just opened her own decorating business. Within an hour Cara was poring over paint chips and wallpaper books. By the end of the day, a team of painters had invaded the house with promises

that all of the changes would be finished well before the party in three weeks.

Despite her show of bravado, Cara was a nervous wreck by the time Ross came home. She had imagined every reaction he could offer from rage to annoyance to gratitude. But what she hadn't prepared herself to encounter was indifference. Complete and total indifference.

She was waiting for him in the kitchen when he walked in. It was late, and the children had given up and gone to bed nearly an hour earlier.

Ross looked tired. His shoulders had lost some of their proud line, and weariness etched grooves on either side of his mouth.

"Bad day in court?"

He grimaced. ' 'Worse. A divorced couple came into the office to divvy up their possessions. The two of them nearly came to blows a couple of times."

The thought of divorced couples divvying up their worldly belongings made her distinctly uncomfortable, so she said instead, "I've got dinner for you."

Aren't you being the traditional wifey, a little voice inside her chided. Normally Cara couldn't think of anything worse than cooking. But since it was Stibbs's day off, she'd wanted to put him into the best frame of mind possible.

"You're a lifesaver. I'll just go upstairs and shower."

"No!"

His brows rose at her vehement outburst. Then his eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she realized that she wouldn't be given the opportunity to break the news to him gently.

"Now, I don't want you to freak out," she began quickly.

He took a deep breath. "What have they done?"

"They?" He couldn't possibly know about the painters already.

"The children."

"Oh, no. They haven't done anything. Actually, I think they're beginning to get used to one another. Today I managed to convince them to go on a picnic at the park. They played on the swings with one another and took turns on the slide and the merry-go-round—"

She pressed her lips together, realizing that she was close to babbling.

"What's happened?"

1 'Nothing is wrong, per se, and you did tell me that I could make some changes to the house if I felt like it."

He eyed her for long minutes. "Within reason."

Within reason? What did that mean? A few new

pillows? Or whatever she wanted, barring major construction?

Ross sighed. "Maybe you'd better show me what you've done."

Cara threaded her fingers together. "Okay. Follow me."

She took him into the front living room—a huge cavernous space that she and the painters had nicknamed The Great Hall. Most of the furniture had been moved out of the room, but those items that remained had been covered with drop cloths. What was most evident of all, however, was that the walls had already been altered—from the original stark white to a pale petal-pink.

Cara loved the transformation. The room suddenly seemed more intimate and warm. The rich color complemented the warm tones of the wood, allowing the beauty of the carvings to take center stage. Cara could already see the finished product in her mind's eye—new throw pillows in a variety of colors and textures, artwork with bold themes, splashes of color with fresh plants and objets d'art from both Ross's and her own collections.

"I painted/' she finally said, stating the obvious. Then she nibbled her thumbnail and looked to see how Ross was reacting.

"Why?"

She wasn't sure what she had expected, but that question wasn't it.

"The white is too stark and...off-putting."

She saw the muscle of his jaw working.

"My former wife designed the house."

Oh-oh. She'd treaded on sacred ground. Nevertheless the answer explained a lot. She'd had a hard time connecting the elaborate nature of the house with Ross's innate reserve and love for order.

"The castle is very beautiful," she said slowly, "but the stark white makes it look so... sterile."

The muscle jumped again.

"Don't you think you should have asked me first?"

Cara took a deep breath. This was one argument that she had anticipated. "Perhaps. But I ventured out on my own to prove a point."

She rushed on before he had a chance to respond. "I don't know what you expected when you married me, Ross, but there are a few things that we need to get straight right here and now." Summoning all of her courage, she plunged ahead. "I am not your first wife—"

"I didn't say you were."

"No, but I want it made clear that I don't intend to take her place."

"I never intimated that I wanted you to."

"No, you haven't. But I need you to acknowledge that I won't look like her, act like her or attempt to be like her in any way."

"Have I ever indicated that you should?"

"Yes!" The resentment she'd held within her burst free. "We married in order for me to take her place as your children's mother. But since my arrival, it has become clear that you don't trust me with the job—or any of the other duties around here. You have a butler to run your household, a nanny to take care of the children, a gardener to see to the yard. You have a cleaning service and a grocery delivery service. You have a maid and a psychologist."

"The arrangements are practical."

"The arrangements make me obsolete in your life."

"There are other things—"

"Like what? You stated once that I would help you entertain, but you've already made it clear that you will take care of everything in that department, too. You've planned a party, but rather than let me feel useful in some small way, you've already arranged for a local service to plan everything from the menu to the invitations. You've even chosen what clothes I should wear!"

She took a deep breath, then bit her lip. She

hadn't lost her temper like that in ages. But then, she supposed she was past due.

"I was married to a man like that once before, Ross. He planned my life and my daily activities from the moment I woke up until I went to bed at night. He decided what I would wear, what I would eat and what friends I would have."

Her throat grew tight with emotions. "I won't live like that again, do you hear me? When I divorced Elliot, I swore that I would never allow another man that kind of power in my life. I swore that I would never marry at all."

Ross's eyes glittered. "If you were so dead set against sharing your life with another man, why did you agree to the proposition at all? Why did you agree to marry me?"

She swept her hand wide. "Look around you, look at the car you drive, the house you live in, the company you keep? How could I possibly compete against that?"

"Compete?"

"You threatened to take my children away!"

The muscle in his jaw jumped. "I never would have gone to such lengths."

"Are you so sure? You're a man who's accustomed to getting what you want—regardless of the methods."

"I'd hardly go that far."

"Be honest with yourself, Ross. Would you really have given Zoe up without a fight? Any fight that was necessary."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't speak.

"I think I have my answer," she whispered, hurt, even though she had already suspected as much. "Do you really think I would have stood a chance against that kind of determination?"

When he remained silent, she closed the distance between them, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

"Before we go any further in this relationship, I want the record set straight. I will be an equal partner or I'll file for divorce."

Ross's eyes narrowed. Then he glanced at the walls behind her. "There will be no divorce." Then, gesturing to the pale-pink color, he said softly, "Do whatever you want. It looks nice." Then he turned and made his way back to the kitchen. "Just let me know if you plan on knocking down any walls. As for the party, check with the people I hired and make any changes you feel necessary. I was merely trying to give you some time to adjust to our arrangement before I made any demands on your time. After tonight, I'll delegate more of the details to you."

Cara stood with her mouth open, the fight draining out of her. She had been ready for a confron-

tation, and now it appeared she wasn't going to get one.

So why did she feel so disappointed?

What had she hoped he would do? Argue with her?

Yes.

With a sinking sensation, she realized that she craved his attention so much that she was willing to argue with him in order to get it. Was she that needy? That wanton? Was she so hungry for his touch? His attention?

Yes.

The thought was humbling as much as it was troubling. She'd prided herself on moving past a point where she felt she had to have a man in her life in order to feel complete.

But it wasn't just any man that would do....

With a sinking heart she realized that she wanted Ross and no one else. She wanted his heart as well as his attention.

Sighing, she realized that she might be asking for the moon. Ross was willing to share his home and his life with her. But his heart?

She shied away from even thinking about that. Tomorrow she would call the caterer and the party organizer and take charge of Ross's soiree. By the time she finished, he would see that she didn't in-

tend to be a mere figurehead in their relationship. She would make him need her.

Turning, Cara took a deep breath and viewed the painter's progress.

Ross hadn't balked at her alterations, so the time had come to move full steam ahead. She would see if the decorator could hire some additional help to expand the scope of the remodeling. She wanted everything to be perfect when the guests arrived.

Nevertheless, she couldn't entirely still the little voice that whispered to her that her motives had less to do with making the castle a home and more to do with making Ross acknowledge that she was an integral part of his life. She wasn't an employee or a live-in nanny.

She was his wife.

"Irs beautiful. Absolutely beautiful."

Cara carefully studied the expressions of her friends from the Mom Squad, looking for any sign of reserve. "You really think so?"

Polly grinned. "I can't believe the transformation you've made with a little paint and wallpa-per.

"Not to mention a few feminine touches," Grace added.

Cara turned to Bettina. ' 'Any cosmic vibrations worth noting?"

"Mmm. The cosmic vibrations have been very busy during our tour." But Bettina wasn't looking at the house, she was studying Cara. "How are things going with Ross and you?"

Cara shifted uncomfortably, then motioned for her friends to take a seat. She had ended their tour at the sunroom next to the kitchen. The intimate niche had only needed a few minor changes in Cara's estimation. She'd painted the walls a soft buttery-yellow, added even more plants and potted flowers, topped the chairs with chintz cushions and framed the window with a chintz swag looped over an antique curtain rod with huge carved finials.

Once her friends were seated, she began pouring tea from a delicate antique chintz ware tea set that had belonged to Cara's mother.

"Things are fine."

Polly snorted. "Now tell us what the situation is really like."

Cara grimaced. "Complicated."

"Has he said anything about all of the remodeling you've done?" Grace asked.

"The most I've been able to get out of him is that things look 'fine.'"

The women began helping themselves to the finger sandwiches and pastries that Stibbs had elegantly arranged on a silver server.

"So he hasn't objected to the complete over-

haul?" Bettina inquired after taking a sip of herbal tea.

Cara idly stirred her own cup. "The first night we had a small...confrontation."

The women exchanged knowing glances.

"Actually, I should probably clarify that I exploded and started telling him that I wasn't his first wife and he should stop comparing me to her." She took a breath at the memory, then continued. "Since then, he's been rather...distant."

Her friends watched her with open concern.

"How are the children?" Grace finally asked.

"They're doing much better. They're beginning to play with one another. Occasionally we even find that they've sneaked into a single room to sleep for the night. It's so cute to find them all sprawled together on the same bed."

"So Ross is the major problem on your road to bliss," Bettina offered.

Cara bit her lip and nodded.

"And it bothers you that you simply...coexist," Bettina continued.

"Yes." The word was small and infinitely telling, even to her own ears.

Grace took her hand. "Have you fallen in love with him?"

"No, of course not. I simply need to feel... needed and—" She stopped, her throat grow-

ing tight with tears. When she caught her friends' concerned looks, she had to admit the truth to herself.

She had fallen in love with her own husband.

And her worst fear was that he couldn't—or wouldn't—love her back.

Cara dressed carefully for the party the following night, knowing that the evening was an important one. Not only would her efforts as a hostess be scrutinized, but she was also about to be introduced to Ross's friends and colleagues.

As his wife.

From deep in the house Cara heard the doorbell ring. A quick glance at the clock on her bedside table assured her that it was early for guests to be arriving, so someone must be incredibly early.

She had to admit that, as much as she'd dreaded the party, she was actually looking forward to it. She'd made sure that Ross's guest list was augmented with a few invitees of her own. Grace, Polly and Bettina would be there, as well as Dr. Egstrom and his wife.

Cara had prepared carefully for the event. She'd delegated the painting to the decorator, then had enlisted Stibbs's help in planning the perfect party.