Power Play (Crimson Romance) by Nan Comargue Page A

doing?”
    Lila stiffened up again. “Watching television.”
    “Anything good?”
    “No.”
    His voice dipped lower. “I miss you.”
    She nearly dropped the phone. “Damn it, Cahal, what are you trying to prove?”
    “I’m trying to be a good husband.”
    It was impossible to tell if he was joking, although it was the obvious conclusion.
    “It’s too late for that,” she said. Angry tears sprang up, blurring the chaotic images onscreen. “In all the years we were married you never told me that you missed me.”
    Flowers and expensive presents never made up for his emotionless words over the phone. Daily calls were appreciated but most wives received those; Lila was the only one who could never quote a particularly soppy line from her husband because there weren’t any. Always vague about the details of his own activities, Cahal wanted to know about every minute of her day even though the recitations were usually very dull.
    “I’m telling you now,” he replied in the same low tone.
    “I don’t want to hear it now! I wanted to hear it then.”
    Another series of rustles expressed his restlessness. “What do you want me to do? Turn back time?”
    Deep breaths calmed her down somewhat. “No. What I want is a normal life.”
    “And you think you can have that with another hockey player?”
    Lila sniffed. “I — ”
    He was right to be so caustic. She was hanging on to the familiar when the familiar was all that was wrong in her life. No matter what Jack promised for their future, their only hope for a happy relationship was if he retired.
    “Baby — ”
    “No!” She nearly screamed out. “I don’t want to rehash the past. We’ve done enough of that.”
    “When?” A smooth voice inquired. “You ran away and you’re still — ”
    The phone provided a buffer. In person he would have been able to finish his sentences and she would have buckled.
    “I’m not running,” Lila cut in. “I’m here and as usual you’re a thousand miles away. It’s really like being married to you all over again.”
    “Lila — ”
    “I’ve got to go,” she said. “It’s getting late.”
    “All right.” It was clear that he gave in to the limitations of the phone connection rather than her. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
    Lila put down the phone and burst into tears. Despite everything that had gone wrong, she still missed him. Damn him.
    • • •
    Lila’s quiet workplace couldn’t remain unaffected by the publicity machine Cahal’s agent put into motion. The employee pool small enough to be cozy, yet its patronage large enough to be anonymous, the library was her last refuge. Now she never knew if the person on the other side of the counter wanted a rare book on special order or a few snapshots for the back of the sports section.
    Complaints to Billy Avery’s agency produced no reaction. Approaching the team with her irrelevant problems was unthinkable and, as usual, Cahal was AWOL. She was alone. Again.
    On the telephone with her husband, she invented outings so that Cahal wouldn’t worry. In reality she spent those weekends alone at the movie theater watching unpopular foreign films or at work doing after-hours inventory. The theater collected small steady revenue from her and the inventories had never been more up-to-date, but Lila’s nerves were being shredded with every passing day. Counting down the hours until their ridiculous charade was over didn’t help; she had nothing to go back to once the act was finished.
    The library’s employees had taken to cutting out articles about Cahal from the newspaper and tacking them up on the staff room bulletin board. Although the action was touching rather than malicious, Lila started avoiding the staff room and, increasingly, her fellow employees as well.
    Teaching elementary school groups the basic tenets of research was usually one of her favorite duties but today she could take no pleasure in the small, well-scrubbed faces or the children’s