Free Carly's Gift by Georgia Bockoven Page B

circumstances he would keep his mouth shut and go along with whatever she’d planned. It was a tacit agreement of theirs. As long as he wasn’t holed up with a manuscript, he’d go along with any social regime she set up for them.
    This time it was different. It wasn’t just that he wanted the peace of mind he found by immersing himself in his work, he needed it. “Meaning?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s going to be a splendid surprise.”
    He sat down on the bed again and wearily ran his hand through his hair. “You know I don’t like surprises.”
    Her voice lowered and softened. “I’m afraid you’ve a short memory at times, darling. I seem to recall one or two you didn’t mind at all.”
    Victoria was the ultimate male fantasy—a lady in the parlor, a whore in bed. “How wonderfully uncomplicated you are,” he said.
    Several seconds passed before she answered. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that’s your typical roundabout way of telling me you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you.”
    â€œOf course it is,” he said automatically, and then realized it was the truth. He did miss her. Victoria had provided the calm water after the hurricane in his life called Carly. The years, the life, he’d lived with her were predictable and utterly inconsequential—the perfect environment for a man who wanted to write bestselling novels. Carly had been right about one thing: he could not have devoted the time and energy it took for him to turn out a thousand pages of manuscript every year if he had married her. With Carly, he would not have insisted on the months of isolation where he put his own needs foremost. There would have been her career to consider . . . and the children they would surely have had together.
    â€œMust you save all your clever words for your books?” she chided gently.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he told her. “It’s been a long day.”
    â€œRather a long month, I should say.”
    He was drawn to the warmth in her voice. “Coming back here has been a lot harder than I’d imagined it would be.” There was a deep need in him to talk about what he was feeling, if only on the superficial level they used with each other.
    â€œWell, it will all be over soon,” she said with a crisp finality.
    With consummate skill, she’d firmly closed the door on any further intimate revelations. Emotions were messy and unproductive, certainly not something anyone of good breeding brought up readily.
    â€œYes,” David said, “just two more days and then I’ve got to get back to work.”
    â€œOh, darling, please don’t tell me you’re going to insist upon coming home straightaway,” she said.
    The rigid structure of the world Victoria lived in was one of the things that had drawn David to her. Knowing that, as an outsider, he would never truly be accepted, had given him an implicit permission not to go beyond the superficial in his relationships. He could exist in his own sphere while the lives of others swirled around him. Thanks to Victoria’s position, there wasn’t a party worth being invited to that he didn’t attend, or a door that didn’t open when he knocked. With the exception of rare, isolated moments when a sense of something missing would steal over him, his life was exactly as he wanted it.
    â€œI don’t really have any other choice, Victoria. I’m a month behind on the book already.”
    â€œAnother week or two shouldn’t matter. You’ll catch up. You always do.”
    He could fight her and he’d win, but he wasn’t sure it was worth the effort or the guilt he’d feel. Besides, going home wasn’t the answer. This time his retreat from reality would not be so easy. “A week then,” he said, meeting her halfway. “I can’t afford any