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on him—because she would be furious when she found out what he had done. No question about it. But it was a risk he had to take, Matt decided as he drove the car to a stop in front of their house. Because unless he could win Claire’s love and trust again, he didn’t have a prayer of winning her forgiveness and a second chance.
    â€œ This is where I live?”
    Matt snapped his attention back to Claire. Wide-eyed, she stared at the house as though she were seeing it for the first time. Giving himself a swift mental kick, he reminded himself that in a sense she was seeing it for the first time. If she didn’t remember him, she probably didn’t remember the house, either. “This is where we live,” Matt told her, and felt the prick to his conscience at the half-truth.
    â€œIt’s so beautiful.”
    â€œThat’s what you said the first time I brought you here,” he told her. And it was true. Nestled between ancient oaks, the old Southern charmer of stuccoed brick had been painted to look like sandstone block, and the front porch had been done in a shade of soft white. The lush green lawn sprawled from the front door to the sidewalk. And the carefully tended gardens were bursting with the yellow day lilies and white roses Claire had insisted on planting when she’d moved in after their marriage. He’d fallen in love with the old house when he’d first seen it five years ago and had taken great care to restore it. But it had been Claire who had made the place a home. He decided against parking in the garage fornow, so that Claire had the benefit of entering the house through the front entrance. Exiting the car, he came around to the passenger side and opened her door. “Trust me, it didn’t look nearly this good when I bought it.”
    â€œThe gardens are lovely.”
    â€œThanks to your green thumb,” he told her.
    â€œI did the gardens?”
    â€œSure did. And you oversaw restoration of the courtyard.”
    â€œThere’s a courtyard?”
    â€œRight over there,” he said, pointing to what looked at first like a second entryway.
    â€œOh, I can’t wait to see it.”
    â€œWhy don’t we get you settled first, and then I’ll give you the grand tour?”
    â€œI’d like that,” she said with the first real enthusiasm he’d seen her exhibit since he’d arrived at the hospital to take her home. Carefully swinging her legs around to the side, Claire started to get out of the car when Matt scooped her up into his arms. “What are you doing?” she demanded, her body stiff even as her arms circled his neck.
    â€œMaking sure you stay off that ankle,” he informed her as he strode toward the house.
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous. I can walk.”
    â€œHumor me,” he teased as he climbed the stairs of the porch. “It makes me feel useful.”
    â€œBut it’s foolish. I don’t need—”
    Matt cut off her protests with his mouth. The kiss had simply been a reflex, a means of preventing her from telling him what he already knew—that she didn’t need him. Claire had never needed him, not the way he had needed her.
    But he hadn’t counted on that kiss being so sweet or on lingering a moment longer to sip, to taste, to explore. He certainly hadn’t counted on Claire’s lips softening beneath his own and tempting him until all he could think about was losing himself in her, with her. Nor had he counted on lifting his head and seeing cinnamon-brown eyes filled with desire or on her lips parting invitingly until he couldn’t resist one more taste. And Matt positively hadn’t counted on having the door he was leaning against suddenly opening and nearly sending him sprawling on the floor with Claire in his arms.
    â€œSweet heavens, Mr. Matthew,” Emma Dubois chided even as she provided him with a steadying hand. “What on earth is it you