Wife In Disguise

Chapter One

One year later

The old Miller place was for sale. Josie Scott parked her Volvo in front of the old Victorian mansion and stared at the gabled roof line. She’d been fighting nothing but memories since she’d driven into Beachside Bay, California, earlier that morning, and seeing the old house only made the problem worse. She’d returned to town for closure, but what she was getting instead was a quick course in how to survive a brutal trip down memory lane.

“I’m on a mission,” she reminded herself. A mission that should take two, maybe three days at most. Then she would leave the land of her past and return to…

Actually she didn’t have anything to return to, but this wasn’t the time to remember that. Better to focus on the past and why she was here. So she looked at the Miller house and remembered when she and Del had visited it, one of the many times it had been on the market.

“We could rip out the entire third floor and make it into a master suite,” he’d said one Saturday long ago. They’d been standing at the top of the narrow staircase leading to the unused third floor of the mansion. “New bathroom, sitting area, even a study.”

Josie had planted her hands on her jeans-clad hips and stubbornly shaken her head. “It’ll be too hot.”

Del turned to her, his dark eyes glinting with laughter. “There’s this new invention. Maybe you’ve heard of it. Air-conditioning? The master suite could have its own unit.”

She hadn’t been convinced. “I want the master on the second floor.”

“Where will the kids sleep?”

She’d rolled her eyes, then turned away, tucking a strand of short blond hair behind her ear. She hadn’t been about to get trapped in that discussion again. Del wanted kids; she wasn’t ready. He wanted the master up, she wanted it down. He wanted her home and cooking dinner and she wanted a career. They hadn’t agreed on the Miller house, nor on anything else of importance.

Josie leaned back in the front seat of her car and closed her eyes. “Oh, Del, what were we thinking?” Their three-year marriage had been one long argument punctuated by great sex. In fact, they’d currently been divorced as long as they’d been married. So what on earth was she doing in Beachside Bay?

“Closure,” she murmured to herself, opening her eyes and starting her car engine.

Yes, she and Del were divorced. From what she’d heard, while he hadn’t remarried he’d certainly moved on with his life. She had, too, or so she’d thought until her accident a year before. Del had been her last thought before she’d slipped into unconsciousness and her first thought upon waking in the hospital. He’d been on her mind on and off through the past twelve months of surgery, physical therapy and more surgery. Obviously, she wasn’t as over him as she’d thought.

So here she was, back where the trouble had begun. All she wanted was a couple of quick conversations with her ex so that she could put her past behind her. A simple plan, but one that wasn’t going to work if she didn’t have the courage to go talk to him.

“So do it now,” she ordered herself as she slipped the car into gear, checked the mirrors and road ahead before pulling out onto the quiet side street.

She drove the scant three miles to the offices of Scott Construction. As she did she was assaulted by memories of living in the sleepy seaside town. Beachside Bay was directly west of San Jose but light years from anything remotely resembling a burgeoning economy. The main residents were college kids and retirees who actually existed in peaceful acceptance. Funky restaurants and elegant bed and breakfasts pulled in the vacation crowd, but there wasn’t enough industry to keep the tourists longer than a weekend or two a year.

She turned the corner and pulled into the parking lot of Scott Construction. The low one-story building still looked more like a beach house than an office. Flowers, mostly roses, bloomed along the edges of the parking lot and up the long walkway.

Memories assaulted her. She remembered how the place had looked when she’d been all of nineteen and looking for a part-time job. The twenty-five hours a week of light office work had been more than enough to supplement her athletic scholarship. The fact that the Scotts’ son was three years her senior, good-looking enough to have his own beefcake calendar and a charmer to boot had simply been a bonus.

But all the memories weren’t so fun, Josie admitted to herself. She could also recall the times when she and Del had been fighting. He’d left for work, but she hadn’t been content to let things rest. Instead she’d followed him to the office to continue screaming at him, not caring who heard or what they thought of her.

She gripped the steering wheel, squeezing tightly and trying to erase that part of her past. She had many things to atone for. She’d been unprepared for marriage, with the sensibilities of a spoiled teenager rather than a grown woman. Would Del be interested in listening to her say that now, or had he put her so far behind him that it didn’t matter anymore? There was only one way to find out.

Gathering her courage, Josie turned off the engine and carefully put the keys into her purse. As she opened the door of her sedan, she shifted her weight so that she could turn to face out. She swung her legs slowly and painfully around until her feet touched the ground. When she was ready, she braced one hand on the specially installed handle by the back of her seat and pushed into a standing position. Her leg muscles—especially those in her left leg—quivered and threatened to give way. She forced herself to remain completely still until she’d achieved her balance. Only then did she turn and bend down so she could pull out her purse and her cane.

For one brief moment in time she allowed herself to remember what it had been like when she’d taken her body for granted. She’d been a born athlete and her world had consisted of running and bounding and achieving. Over the past year she’d learned to measure her progress in single steps…sometimes in mere inches.

She draped her purse over her right shoulder and braced the cane with her left hand. The path up to the building seemed endlessly long, with three shallow steps in the ten or so feet of concrete. There was a time when she would have raced to the door without a second thought. Now she had to consciously move her damaged left leg, lifting with still-healing muscles and ignoring the burning pain that was her constant companion. She paused at the halfway point to catch her breath and to admire Catherine’s exquisite roses.

Del’s mother had a gift for making things grow. The mild temperatures had brought the fragrant blooms out early, and Josie lingered to inhale their sweetness. When she was relaxed and rested enough to continue, she started for the glass door.

As she moved, she could see herself reflected in the glass. The tall, awkwardly gaited woman was a stranger. Not just the long hair and the soft flowing dress, but the face. The side impact of the truck had caused glass to slice her face. In the first six months after the accident, a gifted plastic surgeon had restored the damage, making her into a pretty young woman. But the slightly more prominent cheekbones and rounded chin had little in common with the features of her birth. Except for her eyes and the shape of her mouth, she was a stranger to herself. She smiled as she thought of Del’s shock as he would try to figure out who she was, then his reaction when he did. Her smile faded. Would he be happy or annoyed that she’d walked back into his life?

She reached the glass door and managed to maneuver her way into the waiting area of the office. The spacious entry had been filled with large windows and comfortable furniture. Oversize photos of recent restorations hung on the wall. A rectangular table in the center offered a place to study blueprints.

Josie turned to the receptionist, sitting behind a big cherry-wood desk. The dark-haired woman in her late forties didn’t look familiar. She offered Josie a pleasant smile.

“May I help you?”

Josie had to brush her suddenly damp palms against her skirt. She could feel her stomach tightening as she fought against the need to flee. She’d been crazy to come back. Del wasn’t going to want to talk to her. They’d been divorced for three years; they had nothing to say to each other.

“I, um…” She cleared her throat. The accident had damaged her vocal cords so that her normally high-pitched voice had become low and husky. “I’d like to see Del Scott, please. I don’t have an appointment.”

The woman nodded. “He just happens to be in. Let me buzz him.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name.”

Before Josie could respond, the phone rang. The woman excused herself and took the call. Three more followed in rapid succession. When there was a lull, she quickly buzzed Del and told him he had a visitor.

Josie limped over to a sofa and studied the floral print. She was more concerned about the softness of the padding than the fabric used. If she sat down, she wanted to be sure that she could stand up again. Getting trapped in a chair wasn’t her idea of making a good impression on her ex.

The door leading to the back swung open. Josie turned quickly—too quickly. Her weight shifted before her legs were ready and she nearly stumbled. Only by putting most of her weight on her cane was she able to stay upright. She forced herself to get control and balance before she allowed herself to look at the newcomer.

She’d been wrong about being prepared to see him again.

Recognition slammed into her. Her chest went tight and her leg muscles shook the way they did after a ninety-minute therapy session. Sound seemed to fade, then get too loud as she stared at the man who’d once been her husband.

Del was tall—six foot two—which made him about a half foot taller than her. He was broad shouldered with muscles earned through years of construction work. Close-cropped dark hair gleamed in the overhead lights and his eyes were still chocolate-brown and glinting with humor. He was good-looking, charming and attentive in bed.

He was also staring at her with the polite expression he would offer any stranger.

“I’m Delaney Scott,” he said, holding out his hand. “Please call me Del. How can I help you?”

He didn’t recognize her. Josie blinked in surprise. She’d thought it might take him a minute, but she’d never considered the fact that he wouldn’t even have a flicker of recognition.

“I, um…”

Her voice trailed off as she struggled to figure out what she was supposed to say. Seeing him had rocked her to her soul. As she continued to stare at his familiar features, she realized that she didn’t know what she was feeling. Confusion, a draw to the past, a strong desire to run. What on earth had she been thinking when she’d come here? Was she going to say, “Gee, Del, I’m Josie. Can we talk about what went wrong in our marriage?” She needed time. The trick was how to get some.

Finally she realized he was still holding out his hand. She offered hers and they shook. The feel of his skin against hers was too familiar. She shivered as she remembered all the wonderful things that hand could do to her.

As she released him, she was conscious of his questioning silence and the stare of the receptionist. Josie wasn’t talking, she wasn’t doing anything but acting like an idiot. If she wasn’t careful they were going to call for the men with the straitjackets.

Del motioned to the sofa she’d been studying. “Would you like a seat?”

She tapped her cane lightly on the hardwood floor. “I’m a little concerned about being able to get up if I do.”

As she spoke the words, she kept her gaze on his face, wanting to see any revulsion or pity in his expression. Neither appeared. Instead he glanced at the couch, then nodded. “Why don’t you risk it? If there’s a problem when we’re done, I’ll help you up. Or Jan will.” He nodded at the receptionist.

“All right.”

Josie shifted until she was standing in front of the sofa, then slowly lowered herself into a sitting position. She hated that she had to think the process through—keeping her weight evenly distributed and using her cane to slow her descent. Nothing physical was easy for her anymore.

Del settled at the far end of the couch and angled toward her. His expression was pleasant, if slightly confused. He still had no clue who she was.

“Do you want to tell me why you stopped by?” he asked, with the patience of someone dealing with a very shy person. “I assume it has something to do with a house. Are you interested in restoration?”

Just being this close to him made her feel safe. Josie realized that she’d spent the past twelve months fighting fear. The relief of being able to let it go—even for a few minutes—made her feel giddy enough to float.

As she looked into his dark eyes, she realized that she’d been insane to expect Del to simply take a meeting with her and discuss their marriage. It had been three years. They were strangers. He wouldn’t care that she needed closure.

But she also wasn’t willing to walk away. The last year of their marriage had been hell. One fight after another, punctuated by periods of rage. Which meant she should have been over him. Yet ever since the accident, she hadn’t been able to get Del out of her mind. She needed time to figure out why. There seemed to be only one way to get that respite.

“I’m interested in the Miller place,” she said, surprising both him and herself.

He raised his dark eyebrows. “It’s a beautiful home, but it will require extensive remodeling. We’re talking about a lot of time and money.”

Thanks to her injuries and a settlement from the company that owned the truck that hit her, she had plenty of both. “I’m not an expert on old houses,” she said, “but I don’t expect it to be easy. Is this the sort of project you’d be willing to take on?”

Interest brightened his eyes, and he grinned. “I’ve been admiring that old place for years. In fact I have some plans that I drew up a long time ago.”

He spoke the words casually, as if they had no meaning. But they made Josie want to run away. She knew exactly when he’d drawn up the plans. It had been during the last year of their marriage, when they had almost had enough money to buy the old place. But it had quickly become obvious to both of them that they didn’t have a prayer of agreeing on anything about the project.

“If you’re interested, I can show them to you,” he told her. “It would be easier at the house where I can show you what I’m talking about.”

She nodded her agreement. “That sounds lovely. I, um, suppose we should make an appointment.”

He rose and walked over to the receptionist’s desk. After grabbing her scheduling calendar, he flipped the page to glance at the rest of the week. “I have some time tomorrow. Does that suit you?”

Josie swallowed. Did she really plan to go through with this? Was she going to buy the old Miller place and have Del renovate it for her? Shouldn’t she just tell him who she was so they could talk and then she could go about her business?

Except she didn’t have any business, personal or otherwise. Until her next surgery, her entire life consisted of healing from the last one. She didn’t have a permanent home anymore or a job. Restoring the house would give her something to look forward to and be a part of. If nothing else, she could consider it an investment. When she was finished, she could always sell at a profit. Old restored Victorians were all the rage, even in Beachside Bay.

“Tomorrow is fine.”

They settled on a time. Suddenly eager to escape, she braced her weight on her cane and slowly stood. With Del solicitously holding open the door, she made her painful way to the exit.

When she was about to step outside, she paused to look at him. She knew every inch of his face and body, but he hadn’t recognized her. Not that she blamed him. Not only was her face completely different, but her shape had changed as well. Gone were the lean lines from her aggressive exercise program. She’d gained weight in the past year, filling out in her breasts and hips. Her legs bore scars, especially the left one. If he could see under the flowing folds of her floral print dress, he would be shocked…and repulsed.

“Thanks, Del,” she said in her throaty voice. “I’m looking forward to hearing what you think you can do with the house.”

“Me, too.” He smiled, then his mouth straightened and he stiffened. “I’m sorry. I just realized I never caught your name.”

She opened her mouth to tell him the truth, then pressed her lips together. She wasn’t ready to make explanations. She needed more time. A light breeze stirred her hair. It brought with it the scent of the beautiful flowers blooming in the warm spring afternoon. She glanced at his mother’s garden and then returned her attention to him.

“I’m Rose.”

The statement came from nowhere, but she didn’t take it back. Instead she started walking before he could ask her for a last name. She would have to come up with one tonight.

“See you tomorrow,” he called after her.

She waved without looking back. She didn’t want to know that he was watching her, studying her slow steps, probably wondering what was wrong with her. She made it to her car without incident and sank onto the firm seat. With him still looking on, she backed out of the parking lot.

As she drove away, she was both desperate to know what he’d thought of her and grateful she couldn’t begin to guess. She was nothing like the woman he remembered as Josie Fitzgerald Scott. On the one hand, he’d divorced that Josie, so he couldn’t have cared about her too much. Of course he’d also married her, so there had been some kind of attraction and affection between them.

Josie turned left at the stop sign, then headed for the real estate office. If she was going to have her ex-husband restore the Miller Victorian house, then she’d better see about buying it. At least the old place had been vacant for years. That, combined with her ability to pay cash for the place, would mean that she could have a quick escrow.

Had she done the right thing, she wondered as she drove, or was she crazy? Pretending to be someone else sure wasn’t smart. Maybe she should have just told Del the truth about herself. But she hated the thought of seeing the pity and shock in his eyes. Better for him to think of her as a stranger. All she needed was a little time to get to know him again. Once they were friends, she would confess all and then convince him to talk about their marriage enough to give her closure. After that, she would be free to get on with her life. Free to figure out who she was and what she was going to do, now that everything she’d loved about herself was gone.