appears that if I hadn’t called you, I wouldn’t have known about our child until after it was born,” he murmured, sounding far away. “What really made you come?”
It was hard to look anywhere except at him. “Greg said—” She paused, afraid to reveal too much. Talking about his best friend was like treading on sacred ground. She didn’t know exactly what she should say.
“Tell me!”
She shook her head. “He was worried about you, that’s all.”
His eyes flickered dangerously. “He always did have a lot of influence over you.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him that Sheila had only to call him—ostensibly about a business problem—no matter what hour of the night, and he would leave Ashley in bed to take care of it.
But bringing up his stepmother’s name at such a precarious moment as this could only exacerbate the tension between them.
To her shock, she felt his hand run through her hair, feeling the silky strands. She had to stifle a moan. “I like it,” he whispered. “There’s a lot of natural curl. I would imagine our baby will look just like you.”
Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me.
“Ashley—” he began, sounding more emotional than angry. But the door flew open and one of the ladies in housekeeping cried out to discover the two of them inside.
“Sorry.” He grinned at the woman while escorting Ashley from the closet with a possessive arm around the back of her waist. “I had this irresistible urge to kiss my wife who’s about to become a mother, and I didn’t want an audience.”
The woman tittered, obviously amused and charmed by him. “You can stay in there all day for all I care. Just let me put this waxer away.”
Anyone else might have made the woman suspicious enough to call security, but Cord had a way with people that was fascinating to watch.
He brushed Ashley’s flushed cheek with the back of his hand, sending a shiver of forgotten delight through her body. Eyeing her face through narrowed eyes he said, “I think maybe it was time we came out for air.”
The custodian chuckled and waved them on, then went about her work. Ashley, still dizzy from the sensations his touch had aroused, walked unsteadily at his side, her wedges making a clicking sound on the linoleum as he opened the door for her so they could enter the floor where he’d been admitted.
As they neared the nursing station, a sixtyish-looking man in a lab coat looked up, then smiled at Cord. “It looks like you found your wife.”
“I did. Ashley, this is Dr. Drake, the head of the clinic.”
She said something appropriate and shook the doctor’s hand, but the word “clinic” sent a shudder through her body. “W-what kind of clinic are you referring to?” she stammered. Cancer? Or something equally serious?
The doctor frowned in puzzlement. “Our couples program.”
Couples?
“She just got here so we haven’t had a chance to discuss anything yet,” Cord explained, but Ashley could scarcely concentrate because she was still reacting to the doctor’s comment.
She shook her head in bewilderment. “What program?”
Dr. Drake’s attention switched to Cord. “I thought you explained things to her when you were in here on Friday.”
Ashley swallowed hard. “I—I’m afraid I didn’t give him an opportunity. We’re getting a divorce and there’s been virtually no contact.”
“Yes. Your husband confided as much to me. Mrs. McKnight? Can I assume you’re here because you want to help your husband?”
After a moment’s pause she murmured, “Yes.”
“All right then. As you’re aware, every year in our country we declare a day of no smoking.”
Smoking?
She couldn’t imagine what he was getting at.
“Those trying to quit the habit abstain from cigarettes for twenty-four hours. In conjunction with that effort, we piloted a special program at City Creek ten years ago called the Great Salt Lake Smokeout.”
Ashley had heard of it.
“It was so successful, we’ve done it every year since. Six couples, where one or both have a smoking problem, voluntarily sign up on a first-come, first-serve basis, and stay together in a special clinic for a week free of charge. We provide intensive counseling and therapy to help them break the habit.”
Her mind was spinning. “Dr. Drake? Neither of us smokes!”
“Your husband had the habit in college, but he got off it when he went to work as a park ranger.”
Ashley was dumbfounded. Cord had never told her that...
“Since your separation, he’s taken it up again and wants desperately to quit, thus the reason he came to us. His case is one of several kinds we’re looking for because he wasn’t a smoker all his life.
“We believe this latest addiction is an outward sign of emotional stress and deep-seated problems possibly relating as far back as childhood. Problems he hasn’t yet come to terms with.
“We’ve learned it’s easier if the partner in the marriage goes through the counseling, as well, in order to help their spouse and/or themselves. Through a team effort, the prognosis for quitting altogether is excellent because many problems and side issues are aired with positive results.
“In your particular situation, facing a traumatic divorce has obviously triggered his need to begin smoking again, so you’re the one he would require to be on hand to help him learn more about himself and dig deep for answers.
“You certainly don’t have to agree to this. It would take an exceptionally strong person to revisit the scene of the crime so to speak and place yourself in a vulner able position once more.”
Ashley moaned because his comments pierced the very core of her turmoil.
“In fact in ten years, I only know of one other couple on the verge of divorce who entered together, and they left the program early. For them, it didn’t work. But Mr. McKnight seems anxious to try.
“Today is our kickoff. I’m giving a lecture in the auditorium in five minutes. If you’re interested in helping your husband, talk to him and let me know what you decide by the end of the hour. If you decide not to go through with the program, I’ll need to give your place to the next couple on the list.”
While her thoughts reeled, he patted Cord’s shoulder, then walked down the corridor.
Stunned by the news that Cord was a smoker, she stood there in a daze. “When I married you, I thought I knew everything about you, but it’s evident I only scratched the surface. All weekend I assumed that you must be dying of a terminal illness and Greg was afraid to tell me.
“Instead—I discover you’re here because of a smoking problem! It’s too absurd.” An angry laugh escaped.
“It’s serious to me,” Cord said in a quiet voice. “Even more so now that I’ve found out you’re pregnant.”
Ashley didn’t have a comeback for that. During the last six months of their broken marriage she had no idea what he did apart from her because they spent so little time together. He and Sheila, along with several subordinates, ran the administrative end of the lucrative McKnight potato chip company. The various plants located in northern Utah and Idaho had produced a phenomenal business for three generations and it was still growing to meet the demand.
Sheila smoked a lot. Ashley could always tell when Cord had been with her because he came home from the office with telltale signs of tobacco clinging to his clothes. Under those circumstances