to the area—“near the windows so that I can get a lot of natural sunlight during the day.”
He nodded. “Sure thing.”
She hurried out of the room, down the hall and into the bedroom, where she retrieved her phone from her purse. She hit the preprogrammed number for Treasures.
“Hey there. How’s the unpacking going?” Lorie asked.
“Quite well,” Cathy replied. “Especially since Jack showed up several hours ago and has been helping me.”
“He can’t seem to stay away from you, can he?”
“I don’t know, but if that’s the case, then I’m glad, because the feeling is mutual.” She lowered her voice. “Just being around him makes me happy. I don’t know exactly what it is about him, about us being together, but…I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You don’t have to. Whenever I’m within twenty feet of Mike, all I want to do is reach out and grab him.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to get all soft and gooey on you. I’m actually calling to ask for a favor.”
“You don’t want me to show up tonight as planned.”
“Yes, I do want you to come over, just as we’d planned, but I’d like for you to stop by Frankie’s and pick up supper for three. Get the lasagna, Italian salad, bread sticks, tomato pesto and two slices of Italian cream cake.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be alone with Jack? I could have them deliver dinner for two.”
“No, I don’t think I’m ready for a romantic dinner, just the two of us alone here at the house.” Cathy simply couldn’t handle more than friendship from Jack or any other man. Not yet.
“Okay, then. I’ll see y’all around six-thirty. And I’ll bring supper.”
Although she had been expecting Griff’s call, Nic nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone rang. She needed to hear his voice, needed to hear him tell her that he loved her and missed her as much as she missed him.
She hated the fact that in recent months she had become a jealous, insecure wife. Priding herself on being a strong, independent woman, Nic detested any weakness in herself. It had taken her a long time to completely trust Griff and even longer to trust the way she felt about him. Loving him had been the greatest risk she’d ever taken. She had gambled with her very soul, and now she was wondering if she’d made a mistake.
“Hello.” Crap! Her voice sounded too soft, too vulnerable. “How’s the trip going?” She forced a light, cheerful note into the question.
“I miss you,” he told her and sounded damn sincere.
“I miss you, too.”
“The next time I have to be away this long, you’re going to have to come with me.”
“You really do miss me, don’t you?”
“More than you could ever know.”
“Don’t be so sure of that.”
“Everything all right there?” he asked.
“Things are pretty much the way you left them. Holt Keinan arrived today, and Ben Trahern went back to Knoxville.” The Powell agents rotated two-week stays at Griffin’s Rest and while there were in charge of security. “And Maleah’s here, too.”
“Any special reason she’s there?”
“No. I just wanted her here with me for a while. Any objections?”
“What’s wrong, Nic?”
“Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“I can hear it in your voice.” He paused, waiting for her to reply. When she didn’t, he added, “And your wanting Maleah to stay at Griffin’s Rest is a dead giveaway.”
“I need a friend sometimes. Someone who is just my friend. You have Sanders and Yvette and even Barbara Jean.”
“They’re your friends, too.”
She didn’t know how to respond. Yes, Barbara Jean was a friend, but her loyalty was to Sanders, the man she loved, and Sanders’s loyalty was always first and foremost to Griff and to her only because she was Griff’s wife. As far as Yvette was concerned, Nic accepted her share of the blame that they were not good friends. Early in her marriage, Yvette had reached out to her, and she had sensed that Yvette wanted them to be friends. She had to admit that it had been easier to consider Yvette a friend when she’d lived in London, half a world away from Tennessee.
“You’re worrying me, honey,” he said. “Do I need to fly home tonight?”
“No, of course not. I’m fine. Just missing you. But I’m glad you’ll be home day after tomorrow.”
He grunted. “That’s the thing. I’ve run into a few snags, and it looks like I may be here awhile longer.”
“How much longer?”
“Four or five days. A week at most.”
“A week? Why, what’s