RAPPED IN A RED VELVET ROBE, COREY STOOD AT THE windows of the chalet, looking out across the snowy, moonswept hills of Vermont, where they had decided to spend their first real Christmas. Her husband insisted this was also their second honeymoon – the one they would have had if Corey had gotten her Christmas wedding – and he was playing the role of ardent bridegroom with passion and élan.

She turned and walked over to the bed where Spence was asleep, the she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. It was almost dawn, and he’d made love to her until they were both exhausted, but it was Christmas morning, and she was absurdly anxious to see him open his presents. He gave her presents all the time, and she’d shopped for months for just the right gifts for him.

A smile touched his lips. “Why are you awake?” he asked without opening his eyes.

“It’s Christmas morning. I want to give you a present. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he said with a husky laugh and pulled her down on top of him.

“This is not your present,” she informed him, propping her elbows on his chest as he opened her robe. “You’ve already had this one.”

“I like having two of the same presents,” he persisted, tracing his finger down the valley between her breasts.

“Two Christmases and two honeymoons, all in one year,” she answered on a breathless laugh as his mouth traced a seductive path where his hand had been. “Are we always going to do everything in twos?”

The answer to that question appeared nine months later in the birth announcement section of People magazine:

It’s a “double exposure” for Spencer Addison and his wife, photographer Corey Foster – identical twins named Molly and Mary, born September 25th.

The End