Intimate Strangers by Denise Mathews Page B

sketch was indeed her grandmother. The pictures of her parents saddened her but brought no memory other than the feeling of sorrow. But Sara was more optimistic than she had been in the last several weeks. If she could remember the funeral and her grandmother, maybe soon she'd remember the rest.
    Martha's voice invaded Sara's thoughts. "Miss Sara, do you want some lunch now? I have to get started on dinner soon. Why don't you come back downstairs and eat it in the kitchen and we'll talk while you eat." She clapped her hands together and a smile split her face. "I know, why don't you and Mr. Roarke eat in the dining room tonight? We'll celebrate your first day out of your room and Mr. Roarke's homecoming!"
    "Two celebration dinners in one week?" Sara laughed. "It sounds to me that you look for any excuse to cook a big meal and fuss over us."
     
    Sara spent a great deal of time on herself in anticipation of dinner with Roarke. After her shower she brushed her hair till it shone like golden silk around her face and shoulders. She chose a pastel pink, full-length dress and pink shoes to match. The dress flowed against her body, molding her lovely, lithe form, the bodice draped over her breasts, clinging softly to the round firmness underneath. She wore very little makeup, but her eyes glowed and her cheeks flushed with expectation.
    "Sara, you never looked lovelier," a deep voice sounded from the open doorway. Roarke leaned against the door frame, his suit jacket flung casually over his shoulder and his hair a trifle rumpled.
    Sara hadn't heard her door open but was pleased when she turned and saw him. "Thank you, kind sir," she quipped with a slight dip of her head in a mock curtsy.
    "You're dazzling and Martha is bustling around the kitchen and Bradley is hovering near the dining room. Is this all for me?" He smiled as he took her hands in his, his blue eyes filled with sparks of light.
    "Yes, it's our way of saying welcome home to you. We missed you." Sara smiled into his eyes. "And we're eating dinner in the dining room tonight. We're also celebrating my first evening downstairs."
    "Well, maybe I should go away more often. It's quite clear that absence does make the heart grow fonder," he teased.
    "How did your trip go? Is everything taken care of?" Sara frowned. She wanted to share in his life, but she didn't know enough about his business to ask intelligent questions.
    "It went really well. Not only will we make a considerable profit, but there are some long-range benefits, including more prestige for the firm. I'd better go shower and change clothes before Martha skins me alive for being late and ruining her dinner. If you wait for me, I'll walk you downstairs," he offered. "It will only take me a few minutes."
    "I'll wait for you. I still have a few things to do myself." She smiled.
    "Okay, I'll be back to get you in less than fifteen minutes."
    Sara watched him until he was in his room and behind the closed door. She clasped her hands across her stomach. It was churning from the excitement of having him home again, from having him close. She yearned to tell him about her discovery of her love for him, but knew she couldn't. She hoped that soon she could tell him how much she cared.
    Twenty minutes later they were seated in the dining room with Bradley serving them. He poured their wine and Sara proposed a toast. "Here's to the success you've had with this contract, may you have much more success in the future." She held her glass in mid-air, waiting for Roarke to tap his against it.
    "Here's to you, Sara. A beautiful woman who is once again stealing her husband's heart!" Roarke looked tenderly into her eyes as he touched his glass to hers.
    Sara wanted to run over and throw herself into his arms and entice him upstairs to her bedroom. But she knew she had to move slowly. There was a lot of hurt in both of them to overcome.
    Throughout dinner Roarke regaled her with stories of when their house was new, how they scoured