Read Online The Night Remembers by Candace Schuler - Free Book Online
Authors: Candace Schuler
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contributing factor. She was wise enough to know that it wasn't love that had driven Adam to her bed tonight. He had, after all, been the one to file for divorce all those years ago. Lust, then, she decided. Adam had always been a very physical man, and she'd always been able to arouse him with little more than a look. Lust and, as a recent article in Cosmopolitan had suggested, propinquity, nostalgia and a certain morbid curiosity about what it would be like to have sex with an ex-spouse. On her part, as well as his, she acknowledged, forcing herself to face the plain unvarnished truth.
Because she had wondered, especially during the calm placid years with Miles, if the explosive passion Adam had kindled in her was only a memory that had been exaggerated by time and distance. Well, she didn't have to wonder anymore. No mere memory could make her feel the way Adam had tonight.
Daphne turned her head and found him staring at her in the darkness. His eyes seemed to reflect every bit of the confusion she felt, but in the dim light, she couldn't be sure. His hand moved between them on the bed, his little finger curling around hers.
"Daphne, I—" he began.
His words were cut off by a series of sharp staccato beeps. They both jumped as if a whip had been cracked over their nude bodies. Adam jackknifed to his feet. "Damn beeper." He took three long steps across the room and scooped his tuxedo jacket up off the floor. Hurriedly, he rummaged through the pockets, found the small rectangular box and shut it off.
"I'm sorry." He gestured at the beeper in his hand, his expression registering something that looked suspiciously like relief. Daphne recognized it because she felt it, too. He had been about to say something about the situation they were in, about to utter some banal commonplace to explain away their mutual passion or, worse, offer an apology. Daphne didn't want to hear it, and she was glad the beeper had stopped him from saying it.
"Probably the hospital," he said then, crossing the room to sit down on the edge of the rumpled bed with his back to her. He switched on the squat bedside lamp and reached for the phone. "I have to call my service," he mumbled, glancing over his shoulder at her as he dialed.
Daphne nodded and scurried under the covers when he turned back to answer the voice on the other end of the line. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, the blankets held under her chin with both hands, and listened to his side of the phone conversation.
"Umm-hmm. When?" he said into the phone. His voice was cool, professional. The unflappable Dr. Forrest, Daphne thought wryly. She wondered what the person on the other end of the telephone would say if they could see him sitting there naked, feeling around on the floor for his clothes.
"How long has she been complaining of the pain?" He found his briefs and, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, used both hands to pull them on. "Umm-hmm. No, I realize she can be difficult to deal with, and I left specific instructions to call me if—No, it's all right, really, you didn't interrupt anything important." He maneuvered his slacks over his feet and up to his thighs. "Yes, fine. Fifteen minutes." He dropped the receiver into the cradle and stood, zipping up his slacks as he did so.
"That was the hospital," he said unnecessarily, looking around for his shirt. He found it lying half under the bedside table. He picked it up, shoved his arms into the sleeves and began fastening the buttons. "One of my patients is experiencing some unusual pain after an abdominal tuck. I don't think it's anything really serious, but I don't want to take any chances." He sat down again to put on his shoes and socks. "I hope you understand."
"Yes, of course. I understand," she said, understanding only that he couldn't get out of the room fast enough.
Dressed now, his cummerbund and bow tie stuffed into a jacket pocket, Adam leaned across the width of the bed and touched Daphne's
Because she had wondered, especially during the calm placid years with Miles, if the explosive passion Adam had kindled in her was only a memory that had been exaggerated by time and distance. Well, she didn't have to wonder anymore. No mere memory could make her feel the way Adam had tonight.
Daphne turned her head and found him staring at her in the darkness. His eyes seemed to reflect every bit of the confusion she felt, but in the dim light, she couldn't be sure. His hand moved between them on the bed, his little finger curling around hers.
"Daphne, I—" he began.
His words were cut off by a series of sharp staccato beeps. They both jumped as if a whip had been cracked over their nude bodies. Adam jackknifed to his feet. "Damn beeper." He took three long steps across the room and scooped his tuxedo jacket up off the floor. Hurriedly, he rummaged through the pockets, found the small rectangular box and shut it off.
"I'm sorry." He gestured at the beeper in his hand, his expression registering something that looked suspiciously like relief. Daphne recognized it because she felt it, too. He had been about to say something about the situation they were in, about to utter some banal commonplace to explain away their mutual passion or, worse, offer an apology. Daphne didn't want to hear it, and she was glad the beeper had stopped him from saying it.
"Probably the hospital," he said then, crossing the room to sit down on the edge of the rumpled bed with his back to her. He switched on the squat bedside lamp and reached for the phone. "I have to call my service," he mumbled, glancing over his shoulder at her as he dialed.
Daphne nodded and scurried under the covers when he turned back to answer the voice on the other end of the line. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, the blankets held under her chin with both hands, and listened to his side of the phone conversation.
"Umm-hmm. When?" he said into the phone. His voice was cool, professional. The unflappable Dr. Forrest, Daphne thought wryly. She wondered what the person on the other end of the telephone would say if they could see him sitting there naked, feeling around on the floor for his clothes.
"How long has she been complaining of the pain?" He found his briefs and, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, used both hands to pull them on. "Umm-hmm. No, I realize she can be difficult to deal with, and I left specific instructions to call me if—No, it's all right, really, you didn't interrupt anything important." He maneuvered his slacks over his feet and up to his thighs. "Yes, fine. Fifteen minutes." He dropped the receiver into the cradle and stood, zipping up his slacks as he did so.
"That was the hospital," he said unnecessarily, looking around for his shirt. He found it lying half under the bedside table. He picked it up, shoved his arms into the sleeves and began fastening the buttons. "One of my patients is experiencing some unusual pain after an abdominal tuck. I don't think it's anything really serious, but I don't want to take any chances." He sat down again to put on his shoes and socks. "I hope you understand."
"Yes, of course. I understand," she said, understanding only that he couldn't get out of the room fast enough.
Dressed now, his cummerbund and bow tie stuffed into a jacket pocket, Adam leaned across the width of the bed and touched Daphne's
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