If You Could Read My Mind...

Michael glanced up, but Jillian had already turned and headed out the door.

His beauty rest?

He frowned at her retreating back. Widow Serafine might not technically have been his patient before today, but the woman had needed her bridge repaired. Had Jillian honestly expected him to turn her away?

No, which meant she was still holding a major grudge about Camp Cavelier.

Michael knew the drill. Because he’d run late for the interview and because of the things he’d said in the heat of the moment, so she’d decided to interpret his reservations about the camp to mean he didn’t want to be involved. He didn’t, of course, but he would never abandon her on one of her crusades.

He’d apologized, but, unfortunately, it looked like an apology wasn’t going to do the trick. Jillian was too damned efficient and proud. She didn’t like needing help in the best of circumstances. In all the years he’d known her, he couldn’t ever remember hearing her admit she’d bitten off more than she could chew. And she had, a few times.

His incredibly competent wife routinely faced challenges that would send most people running in the opposite direction. She always managed to buck up and keep her eyes on the goal, though. He knew the craziness would eventually pass, the pressure would be off and their days would return to normal.

But life could get hairy in the process….

On the rare occasions Michael had run afoul of her efforts, he’d found himself eliminated from the equation. Camp business, including Widow Serafine and her family, would now become Jillian’s exclusive domain.

He frowned at the doorway.

His beauty rest?

Her pettiness surprised him. Until right now, he hadn’t even known she could be petty.

While working on his next patient, Michael considered what he might do to ease his way back into her good graces. Not that he had any burning desire to squeeze more work into his already overbooked days. But Jillian’s mood was translating into every aspect of their lives. She was freezing him out, and he didn’t relish a summer with her ignoring him because she was mad.

Should he send flowers? She loved gladioli, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d brought her any. An anniversary maybe? But which one?

What about candy? She had a sweet tooth, and a box of expensive chocolate—milk, not dark—might assuage her temper.

Michael debated flowers versus chocolate as he wrapped up his morning, inhaled his lunch then settled into his office easy chair for a turbo nap.

By the time he’d awakened, refreshed and ready to take on the afternoon, he’d decided on the flowers. Had Jillian mentioned watching her weight lately? He couldn’t remember, but didn’t want to seem unsupportive of her efforts if she was.

Flowers would definitely be safer.

But Jillian was angrier than he’d ever seen her. Maybe he should take her to dinner. Hmm. That idea had potential. Dinner would mean she wouldn’t have to cook. If he presented his invitation right, not only would he seem sensitive, but unselfish because he hated leaving the house once he’d settled in after a long day.

Yeah, Jillian might really like dinner.

So after he finished his last patient of the day, Michael planned his strategy. She’d driven her own car into work, so he arrived home behind her, moved quietly through the house and caught up with her in the bathroom as she stripped off her uniform.

With the smock coming over her head, she didn’t see him sneak up behind her, but he got an eyeful. Strawberry-blond waves tumbled down her back as she deposited the shirt into the hamper. She wore a white cotton bra that looked so sexy.

Trailing his gaze down to the curvy V of her waist, he imagined slipping his arms around her, unfastening the clasp and trying a few moves sure to coax out those soft sighs she made whenever he touched her.

Maybe she’d be so taken by his thoughtfulness that he’d luck out and score. After a good meal, Michael would get a second wind. How long had it been since they’d made love anyway?

“Hey, gorgeous.” He caught her around the waist.

She let out a surprised yelp then went stiff in his arms.

Not good.

Twisting her around, he gazed down into her face. “Surprised to see me?”

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“What do you say about dinner at Kevin’s tonight? Let me make up for being such an ass about the interview. We can discuss the camp. What do you say?”

She said nothing at all, just eyed him through a narrowed gaze as if she wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him.

It was enough to hurt a guy’s pride. “I don’t want you angry with me anymore. And I don’t want you thinking about not being married to me, either.” He nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head.

“Finally got your attention, did I?”

“Of course you got my attention.” He squelched a wave of irritation and forced his tone to remain conciliatory. “Let’s fix things. We don’t stay angry at each other. That’s what other couples do, not us.”

She still didn’t reply, so he tried again.

“Come on, Jilly.” He coaxed. “Kevin owes me for missing his last appointment. I’m sure he’ll give us a last-minute table. We love going to Kevin’s. It’s our special place.”

Would she give him a chance to make peace so they could get past this or would she keep hanging on to her anger?

She frowned, considering, but didn’t pull away. He considered that a good sign.

He tried again. “I don’t want you to have to cook. Not even to reheat last night’s leftovers. You’ve had a busy day. I want you to relax and be waited on tonight.”

“You don’t like going out after you get home from work.”

Okay, she was talking to him. That was a step in the right direction.

“Doesn’t matter what I like. I’m trying to apologize here.”

His words hung in the air between them, and he could feel her indecision in the way she’d started relaxing against him.

He went in for the kill. “I’m groveling, Jilly. Come on. Let me fix this.”

“You think dinner’s going to do that?”

“It’s a start. We’ll discuss the camp. I’m sure we can come up with something. We always do.”

He tightened his grip until she came up close against him, all her curves touching him in exactly the right places, sparking life signs just as she always did. “I want you to know how much I appreciate you and everything you do for me.”

“I’m your wife and office manager. I’m doing my jobs.”

“Which I don’t tell you often enough how much I appreciate.”

“I know you do.”