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last glance at Bryce, who already had his hand on the doorknob. “Words of wisdom, at least?”
    “Just two.” He gave her a bracing smile. “Good luck.”

    Owen breathed out a silent curse as the woman entered his bedroom, a tray in her hands. What hadhe been thinking to allow Isabella Cavaletti to play nurse to his patient? In a pair of jeans that clung to her petite but curvy frame, a V-necked T-shirt just hinting at those small breasts that had snuggled against his chest on the dance floor in Vegas, clearly she was going to cause new symptoms instead of helping to heal current injuries.
    Just a breath of her fresh, sweet perfume and he was dizzy.
    “Are you all right?” she asked, hurrying over to place the tray on his bedside table.
    “I’m terrific,” he said. No way was he going to let her know that her proximity made him woozy. He’d already spent way too much time at her mercy. Scowling, he admonished himself to hold tight to his righteous anger at her. “Five damn weeks, Izzy.”
    Hell. Had he said that out loud? It was all well and good to tell himself he was going to stay tough guy, but with those stupid meds in his system he was not in full control of himself. Five weeks. He hadn’t meant to let her know he cared that much to keep count.
    But for God’s sake! Five damn weeks and not once had he heard from his wife.
    She looked down, guilt stamped all over her face, so yeah, he’d definitely spoken his thoughts aloud. “I know how long it’s been,” she said, studying the carpet under her feet. “And I imagine you’ve spent the entire time trying to figure out the quickest, easiest way to undo what we did.”

    It took both people in the same place to do that, or at least knowing where both people were to do that. She could have been next door or in the Netherlands for all Owen had known. “More like I’ve been trying to figure out why we did what we did.”
    Without looking at him, she slid the tray from the bedside table and held it over his lap. “Scoot up a little bit. I made lunch.”
    Scooting up wasn’t all the easy with three bum limbs, but he wasn’t about to whine for help. And when she placed the food in front of him, he couldn’t stop a half-smile from crossing his face. “You didn’t forget.”
    She’d made him a grilled cheese sandwich that included sliced onions and tomato. His favorite. Sitting beside it was a glass of milk poured over ice.
    “It wasn’t that I had to remember. They’re my favorite, too, right?”
    “Right.” That had been the craziest thing about those three days in Las Vegas. So much of it had felt so right. The way she fit against him, the way she liked her grilled cheese with onion and tomato, the way she took her milk over ice. But it was beyond preposterous to marry someone because their lunch choice mirrored your own. He’d realized that when she’d run away and not contacted him for five long weeks.
    “I’ll never hear an Elton John song and not remember—”

    “Yeah.” He shook his head. Somewhere into day two of their time together they’d made the mutual—and surreal—confession that they’d both misheard the chorus to the popular Elton John song “Tiny Dancer” as—
    “Hold me closer, Tony Danza,” she sang softly.
    Owen winced. “Though it’s nowhere close to being as dim as thinking Prince is singing ‘Pay the rent, Collette,’ in ‘Little Red Corvette.’”
    She frowned at him, her full lower lip pushing into a pout. He’d probably once considered that cute. “It wasn’t me who thought Creedence Clearwater’s song about a bad moon rising boasts that immortal line, ‘There’s a bathroom on the right.’”
    Now he frowned. “It’s a common mistake.”
    Even her snorts had a delicacy to them. “Says the guy who attended way too many fraternity beer bashes.”
    “Hey…” Well, there was a little truth in that, though how could she know? They hadn’t spent time talking about their college years. He