Free Passion in the Heart by Diane Thorne Page A

spectacular.
    She exited the highway and drove through the city until she reached her neighborhood. Joggers passed by and several groups of kids were playing outside. The bliss flowing within her began to dwindle as she approached her empty driveway. Where was Phillip’s vehicle?
    She drove into the garage with her pulse beating excitedly. Had he left already for Toronto? She had checked her phone before she’d left work and she’d had zero messages or missed calls. Surely, he would’ve communicated to her if he had to leave.
    Hurrying, she cut the engine and grabbed her purse. She slammed the door on her car and strode to the entrance of her home. Her heart raced. She wondered if he’d left a note for her. The keys jingled as she quickly inserted them into the lock. With a twist of her wrist, she unlocked and pushed the door open.
    “Phillip,” she called out as she headed for the center island.
    The house was silent. She surveyed the kitchen, looking for a message from him. The refrigerator had the usual photos of her daughters. The countertops were clean. Nothing stood out as clue to where he’d gone.
    She left her keys and purse in the kitchen and strolled into the dining area. “Phillip?”
    She stopped and waited for sounds of movements upstairs. Hearing nothing, she searched for his laptop. He’d always left it in the kitchen or on the dining table. She found nothing. No computer bag or a single clue to indicate where he’d gone.
    Heart pounding, she dashed for the stairs. Maybe he’d left something for her in the bedroom. She climbed the staircase then rushed into her room. The bed appeared the same as it had when she’d left it, with the covers tangled. Spotting the reading chair empty gave cause for alarm. Her chest felt as if something was pressing a ton of weight upon it. He’d brought one piece of luggage with his clothes and shaving supplies and had placed it on the cushioned seat. Now, the bag was gone along with the jeans and shirts he’d strewn over the chair. Not good.
    With a sliver of hope still thriving, she checked the nightstands. After finding nothing new on them, she glanced in the bathroom. Again, she saw no signs of a note and his shaving supplies had disappeared. Damn it.
    Gwen returned to her bed and sat on it. Dread coursed through her and ignited a light throb in her head. He’d left and hadn't bothered to let her know. Why? She suspected the Toronto issue would have forced him to go, but he could’ve sent her a message. If he truly loved her, he would’ve notified her. And that was the worst part. Since he’d failed to communicate with her, it was clear love wasn’t part of the equation. It was a passionate sexual relationship between friends. Nothing more.
    She pressed her lips together as tears filled her eyes. She shouldn’t have gotten involved with him. He was a busy billionaire. She didn’t fit into his lifestyle. His company was his priority and it always would be. She was stupid to think he had feelings for her, other than carnal ones.
    A tear rolled down each cheek and she wiped them away. The time they’d shared had been nice. Well, more than nice. But she needed to move on just as he had. She guessed he’d contact her later and fill her in on what had happened. Maybe they’d find a way to meet again for some naughty adventures in bed. If they did, she’d keep her heart out of their relationship and remember they were only friendly lovers.
    “Gwen?”
    The male voice jarred her head toward the door. Her heart pounded.
    “Gwen?”
    She wondered if she were in a dream.
    “I’m up here,” she finally replied.
    Footsteps thudded on the staircase. Anxiety coursed through her, spiking her pulse. She held her breath as she listened and waited. Why was he back? Where were his bags? Why hadn’t he sent her a message as to what was going on?
    He stepped into the room and she fought the urge to jump into his arms. He’d donned a pair of jeans, and a blazer covered