She'd been looking forward to this evening. All afternoon she'd been walking on air, thinking about what fun it was going to be to have a make-believe husband. But when she'd come home and faced the genuine article, everything had fallen apart.
She glanced up at him. His face was bland, emotion less. He didn't seem to care about a thing, she decided, feeling even more resentment. She regretted hiring him in the first place. Deliberately she lowered her eyes and stared at the Chicken Kiev that she could hardly taste.
Ross watched her. His anger had already evaporated. He'd guessed wrong about the decorating, that was cer tain. And he'd threatened her peace of mind in a way he didn't un derstand. That could all be rectified if she would only be willing to meet him halfway.
He sat back in his chair and watched her eat. It was the prim suit and the hair plas tered against her head that way, he decided. Not to men tion the glasses that she'd forgotten to take off before coming in. If he could just get back the warm, laughing woman he'd met here the day before, everything would be all right.
"Good dinner," he said at last, putting down his silver ware and wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"You can thank the French chef for that," she said crisply, not looking up.
It was on the tip of his tongue to make a sarcastic re mark, but he bit it back. Winning this argument would lose him the war. Funny how he cared more than he'd have thought possible that the war not be lost.
"It was good, anyway," he said quietly, then rose and cleared his own place, washing his utensils in the sink.
She watched him when she was sure he wasn't looking. He seemed so large at her sink. He projected a sense of presence that just wouldn't quit.
She gave up on the food. Ross might think it good, but she couldn't taste it at all. He stood back while she cleaned up after herself. Neither of them said a word for long moments at a time.
"Well," she said brusquely, drying her hands on a cloth. "I guess I'll get to bed."
"Already?" He was taken by surprise. "But it's only-"
"I'm really tired." She almost tried to smile at him. "Maybe after a good night's sleep I'll be able to put all this in better perspective."
He raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think we should dis cuss what we're going to do once your aunt gets here? Don't you think we should go over a game plan?"
"Tomorrow." She put a hand to her head. A headache was threatening. "We'll do that tomorrow."