Conflicted (Everlasting Love)(44)

“But—” Dakota interjected.

“Go.” Desiree’s voice was firm as she stared down her children. They wanted to argue, but adults or not, they knew better than to mess with her when she used that tone.

Desiree waited until her children had ascended the stairs before she went to the office to call Jesse. But the phone rang and rang, no matter how much she willed him to pick up. After leaving messages on both his cell and office phones, she went upstairs and changed into jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. She couldn’t imagine that he was at one of the ranch’s stables, but she wasn’t going to panic until she’d checked all the alternatives.

As she let herself into the house twenty-five minutes later, she acknowledged that maybe it really was time to let go of the anger and begin to seriously worry. She glanced at the clock on the living room mantel—12:15 a.m.—and no word from Jesse. It wasn’t like him to be so careless on a normal day, so she had trouble imagining him being deliberately callous on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.

Uneasy, she walked back to the office, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she went. Indecision clawed at her—should she start calling the hospitals or wait a little longer? Should she call some of Jesse’s friends to find out if, for some reason, they had seen him? But most of his friends had been guests at tonight’s calamitous party, so she had trouble believing he was with any of them.

Rubbing her hands over her eyes as she sank into her desk chair, she stared at the phone willing it to ring. But it remained silent, and the uneasiness coalesced into a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. With a groan of dismay she turned and grabbed the phone book off the bottom of her bookshelf.

Which hospital would he go to? Which one would they rush him to if he’d had an accident? Panic welled, but she ruthlessly beat it back as she reached for the phone. There was no reason to lose it until she found out what had actually happened to him.

She was dialing the numbers to the third hospital—having struck out with the first two—when she heard the front door open. Frantic, she ran for the hall. “Where have you been?” she demanded, skidding to a halt inches from her husband. Her eyes ran over him from head to toes, checking for injuries. “Are you all right? I’ve been so worried.”

“Why?” he asked, casually slipping out of his jacket and reaching for a hanger from the closet.

Her mouth fell open. “Because you’re almost five hours late. Because it’s our anniversary. Because the kids and I threw a surprise party for you that you didn’t bother to show up for.”

“Why would you throw a party?” he asked calmly, stepping past her and heading for the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed. I’m tired.”

She trailed him up the stairs, nearly speechless with anger. “Without any kind of an explanation? I don’t think so.”

“I’m tired, Des. And I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“What is wrong with you?” She reached for him but he turned away before she touched him. A sliver of hurt cut through the anger and bewilderment.

“I’ve had a long day and I’d like to go to sleep.” He shrugged out of his shirt, headed for the bathroom to clean up.

“Well, I’ve had an even longer day, and no one’s sleeping until I get some answers.” She got in front of him, held her ground though he tried to sweep past her. “I was calling the hospitals, Jesse.”

She saw a flicker of guilt cross his face—but it was there and gone so fast she wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it. “I was worried. I couldn’t imagine that you would voluntarily come home after midnight on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.”

“Desiree—”

“Talk to me, Jess. Tell me what was so damned important that you couldn’t make it home until after our anniversary was over.”

She looked at him beseechingly, myriad emotions battling for a stronghold inside of her. But until he responded, until she knew why he had avoided coming home, she wouldn’t know which emotion she should let gain control or even if she would have that choice.

He started to speak, his black eyes glittering with things she refused to name. But then he shook his head, turned away, splashed water on his face and through his hair.

She stood to the side and watched him. It was painfully obvious that he wanted her to leave. She started to do just that, but suddenly she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

The well-developed muscles of his back rippled with his every movement, as did the ones on his stomach. Desire curled through her, adding one more bewildering emotion to her already heightened senses.

How many men actually had a six-pack at Jesse’s age? It wasn’t natural, wasn’t sane—it certainly wasn’t fair that he could make her want him this much without even trying. She wanted to rage at him until he’d given her an explanation for his bizarre behavior. But part of her was so happy, so grateful, that he was whole and well that she couldn’t help the sudden awareness of him that sprang to life inside of her.

Desiree stepped closer, trailed a finger down his spine. She felt him stiffen against her seconds before he turned and caught her wrist in his strong fingers.

“What are you doing?” His voice was lower, huskier than it had been mere minutes before.