Yesterday's Love by Sherryl Woods Page A

orderly life was most definitely being disrupted. In fact, it was in an unbelievable state of chaos. While he daydreamed, work piled up on his desk until even Pete commented on the disorganized clutter. At home he left unwashed coffee cups in the sink and clothes scattered on the floor. He didn’t even seem to notice. One plant suddenly wilted and died, its bedraggled remains ignored. He opened magazines, stared uncomprehendingly at the pages and then dropped them. They stayed wherever they fell.
    Only one image seemed to register fully in his mind—Victoria’s. He pictured her as he’d first seen her, dangling precariously upside down from a tree branch. It was an enchanting, unforgettable image. He recalled the half-astonished, half-temptress look in her blue eyes when he’d kissed her for the first time, and his body began behaving like a teenager’s, turning hot and ready at the mere memory of the way she’d felt in his arms. He was not used to having absolutely no control over his life, his thoughts or his body. Much more of this and he’d go stark raving bonkers, he thought desperately.
    You can either forget her or do something, he told himself in the middle of Friday night as he tossed and turned restlessly amid a tangle of sheets. Since forgetting her seemed unlikely, he decided to accept the inevitable. He was going to have to kill this ridiculous obsession through overexposure. Every sensible bone in his body told him that spending more than a few hours with Victoria would drive him to distraction. He would be forced to acknowledge that she was absolutely wrong for him, and that would be the end of it. He could go back to doing his dishes and his work.
    When the do-it-yourself home repair shop in his neighborhood opened Saturday morning, Tate was waiting. He selected lumber first, then hesitated about paint. Every conservative instinct in him shouted that he should buy white. He always bought white. It went with everything. Finally, he took a deep breath and pointed to what he considered to be an outrageous shade of blue…for a wall. It matched Victoria’s eyes exactly. His hand shook, but he didn’t back down. Since he wasn’t about to leave anything to chance, he also bought a ladder, paintbrushes, rollers, turpentine and a complete assortment of nails and screws. At the checkout counter, he eyed the collection of items carefully, then went back for a hammer, a screwdriver and a saw.
    â€œGonna do a little work around the house?” the clerk said dryly.
    â€œNo, I’m going to build one,” Tate replied grumpily, flinching at the figure that popped up on the cash register. Victoria was turning out to be a costly obsession in more ways than one. He handed over his credit card and wondered for the hundredth time if it made any sense at all for him to be doing this. Victoria wouldn’t appreciate it. In fact, she was probably going to resent it and throw him and his blue paint right back out the door.
    â€œToo bad,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re not doing this for Victoria. You’re doing it to save your sanity.”
    â€œWhat’s that, mister?”
    â€œNothing.”
    Once everything was loaded into his car, he headed for Victoria’s, his determination mounting. He was going to fix up that place of hers so he could stop worrying about it and get her out of his system in the process. It was going to be a wonderful, satisfying weekend.
    By the time he arrived in her driveway, he was whistling cheerfully, envisioning the serenity that would return to his life in a few short days. It was worth the price of a little paint and lumber and the hard work.
    At first he was surprised that Victoria didn’t come out of her house as soon as his car stopped, but then he decided it was better that she hadn’t noticed his arrival. It gave him time to get everything unloaded before she threw a fit. By the time he’d