don’t want to go.”

“I heard you the first time, the second, and the third. Now be quiet and pull in the driveway slowly. The wine will tip over.”

“I hate family functions.”

Alexa prayed for patience. Nick reminded her of a kid who dragged his feet and wanted to stay home to play with his toys instead of see relatives.

The past two weeks had flown past in relative smoothness except for his growing complaints regarding the holiday. Maggie had reminded her Thanksgiving with the Ryans was more of a Halloween nightmare, so Alexa gave her husband wide berth, but refused to let him off the proverbial hook. “We don’t have a choice. As a married couple, we’re expected to show up for dinner. There won’t be too many people there, anyway.”

Nick snorted. “I’ll be bored.”

“Get drunk.”

He scowled and swung into the driveway. The pile of cakes and pies and wine clattered in the backseat but held steady. She reached for the doorknob and stretched out her legs. The bite of November wind ripped up her skirt and through the thick tights she wore under her mini. She shivered and looked at the pile of cars already lined up on the lawn. “I knew we’d be late.”

His features changed, became softer, more intimate. Those chestnut depths gleamed with memories from early this morning, of warm, tangled sheets and cries and long wet kisses. Her body came to immediate attention. Her nipples pressed against her purple sweater, and an achy heat pooled between her thighs.

He reached over and ran one finger down her cheek, then lightly traced her lower lip. “I clearly asked if you wanted to continue, remember?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “You shouldn’t have started in the first place. You knew we’d be late.”

“We could skip the whole thing and spend Thanksgiving in bed.” Her stomach dipped at his low murmur. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re trying to bribe me.”

“Is it working?”

“No. Let’s go.” She heard his low laugh behind her. He knew she lied. He always tempted her. After two weeks of steady sex, she still couldn’t get enough of her husband, and a day in bed with him sounded like sheer heaven.

She carried in the pies and he grabbed the wine. The door was open and they were immediately folded into family chaos, with loud greetings and handshakes, drinks thrust into open hands, and a thousand different conversations overlapping.

“Hi, Ma.” She kissed Maria and took an appreciative sniff of the plump turkey filled with sausage stuffing. A cloud of moist, fragrant steam rose in the air and wrapped her in warmth. “Smells great. You look pretty.”

“Thanks. It’s amazing what paying off the mortgage does for stress load.”

Fear shot through her. She leaned in. “Mom, please don’t mention it—remember our deal?”

Maria sighed. “Ok, honey. I’m just so grateful and it feels strange not to say something.”

“Mom!”

“Fine, my lips are sealed.” Her mom gave her a quick kiss and readied the tray of antipasto.

Alexa plucked a green olive from the tray of appetizers. “I’ll bring it out.”

“Don’t eat them all on the way. Where’s Nick?”

“Talking with Dad in the living room.”

“God help us.”

Alexa smiled and joined her husband. He reached for a black olive and popped it in his mouth. Typical, she thought. He liked black olives, she liked green. So many ways they were complete opposites. In other aspects, they were perfectly in sync.

Her niece raced down the hall. Honey blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders, and her legs and feet were bare underneath her green party dress, a rich velvet with a frothy skirt that made her seem like a fairy princess. Taylor hurled herself into her arms with a leap, and Alexa caught her with ease. She slid her around to rest on one hip. “Hey, squirt.”

“Aunt Al, I want ice cream.”

“You can have some later.”

“Okay. I want an olive.”

“Green or black?”

She made a terrible face only a toddler could master. “Green is yucky.”

Alexa rolled her eyes at her husband’s look of triumph. Nick took a fat black olive and stuck it on the end of his finger. “The child has great taste. Here you go.” He offered it up and watched her chew in delight. “Good?”

“Hmmm. Now can I have ice cream?”

Alexa laughed. “After dinner, okay? Go tell Mommy to finish dressing you.”

“Okay.” Taylor scurried off and left the adults together amidst drinking and munching and frequent bursts of laughter.

Alexa noted her husband took her advice and started drinking early. He held his Scotch and soda with tight fingers. He nodded at various conversations, but retained an air of assessing distance that caused her heart to ache. Then his gaze broke and lifted to meet hers.

Fire.

The air lit and charged around them. He raised his brow in comic wickedness and motioned toward one of the bedrooms.

She shook her head and laughed. Then spun on her heel to go find her cousins.

…

Nick watched his wife enjoy the closeness of her family. He remembered his own holidays at home. His mother drank while his father made passes at all the other attractive female guests. He remembered being able to sneak in bottles of liquor and cigarettes because nobody cared. He remembered the overstuffed turkey for show, cooked by the maid, and the Christmas presents his parents never stayed around to watch them open.

The McKenzies seemed different. Genuine warmth beat beneath all the usual chaos. Even Jim seemed to fit in again, and it must have taken years for Maria’s sister to finally forgive him. Alexa’s family may have been broken, but they had weathered the storm and now seemed even stronger.

Nick struggled to play the part of the newly married husband and not get sucked into the ruse. The tiny glow of belonging grew to a strong flare, but he snuffed it out with a decisive blow. This was not his family and he was only tolerated because he’d married Alexa. He needed to remember that. A dull ache pressed against his chest but he ignored it. Sure, they seemed to accept him, but only because they believed their marriage was real. Like all things, acceptance would end, too.

He might as well get used to the idea early.

Jim thumped him on the back and called over his brother. “Charlie, did you hear what Nick’s doing down by the waterfront?”

Uncle Charlie shook his head.

“He’s one of the few firms up for a bid to completely renovate all the buildings. We’re talking big time here.” Jim puffed up with pride. “Now I got a doctor and an architect to brag about. Not too shabby, huh?”

Uncle Charlie agreed and they threw a bunch of questions at Nick regarding his career. Inside, something shifted. He gave his answers but the strong wall around his emotions rumbled in warning. Jim spoke like he was no son-in-law, but a real son, comparing him to Lance. Maria made note of his favorite foods and pointed them out, smiling with pleasure when he almost blushed under her attention. Uncle Eddie invited him to his house to check out his new flat screen television and watch the Giants, seeming genuinely pleased to gain another male in the family.

Needing a break to get his head clear, he excused himself and walked down the hallway to find an empty bathroom. On his way, he glimpsed a bunch of giggling women packed in the small spare room. Alexa held a baby in her arms, her cousin’s he presumed, and rocked the infant back and forth with a natural feminine grace. The women spoke in hushed whispers and he caught the tail end of “great sex” when he paused in the doorway.

The mass stopped and stared at him in silence.

Nick shifted on his other foot, suddenly uncomfortable with the blatant looks of all Alexa’s cousins. “Hi. Um, just looking for an empty bathroom.”

They nodded but kept taking inventory. Finally, Alexa spoke up. “Use the one in the back bedroom, sweetheart. And shut the door, will you?”

“Sure.” He closed the door on the tail end of another giggle, then the whole group broke into hysterics. Nick shook his head and headed toward the back.

He was stopped mid-flight by the three-year-old.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he said back. Her wide eyes were serious, and he swallowed hard, wondering if he had to make conversation with her or if it would be acceptable to just step around and move on. “Uh, I’m just looking for the bathroom.”

“I have to go potty, too,” she announced.

“Oh. Okay, why don’t you get your mommy?”

“She’s not here. Have to go bad. Come on.”

She reached out a tiny hand and he panicked. There was no way in hell he was going to take a toddler to the potty. He didn’t know what to do. What if there was a problem? He backed off a few steps and shook his head. “Uh, no, Taylor, why don’t you get Aunt Alexa to take you?”

Her face screwed up a bit. “Gotta go now. Bad.”

“Wait here.”

He turned and knocked on the door where the women were. Again, silence fell past the wooden barrier. “Who is it?”

“Nick. Uh, Alexa, your niece needs you to take her potty.”

A pause. “I’m busy now, honey. Just go in with her, okay? It’ll only take a minute.” He heard a low mutter, then a cackle. Nick retreated, afraid to admit he couldn’t handle it in front of a bunch of women who judged his every move. He turned back to the little girl.

“Uh, can you wait one more minute? Maybe Grandma will take you?”

Taylor shook her blonde curls and jumped up and down. “Gotta go now, please, please.”

“One minute.” He raced down the hallway and into the kitchen where Maria was immersed in turkey stuffing. “Maria?”

“Yes, Nicholas?”

“Uh, Taylor needs to go the bathroom and wants you to take her.”

She mopped her brow with her elbow and resumed basting. “Can’t right now, why don’t you take her? It will only take a minute.”

Nick wondered what would happen if he burst into tears. The horror of the situation hit him full force, and he realized he had no choice or Taylor would pee her pants and tell on him and then he’d be in real trouble.

He raced back and found her hopping on one foot. “Okay, let’s go. Hold it, hold it, hold it.” He chanted the same line over and over as he slammed the door and picked up the lid. She lifted her dress and waited, so he assumed she needed help with her underwear. He closed his eyes and pulled them down, then lifted her onto the toilet. He heard a sigh of relief and a slow steady trickle that told him so far everything worked okay. His confidence came back. He could handle a kid. Nothing to be afraid of.

“I want ice cream.”

Oh, shit.

Nick recited the same words Alexa had used that worked so well. “You can have ice cream after dinner.”

“No, now.”

He took a gulping breath and tried again. “You can definitely have ice cream. But just wait a bit longer, okay?”

Her lower lip trembled. “I want ice cream now. I’ve waited, and waited, and I promise I’ll eat all of my dinner if you get me some now. Please?”

His mouth dropped open at her heartfelt pleas. What was he supposed to do? Nick reminded himself he was a successful businessman. How bad could a little girl be?

He kept his voice firm. “First eat your dinner, then you can have ice cream. You have to listen to your mom and your aunt.”

The lower lip wobbled even more. Tears filled china blue eyes. “But Mommy and Aunt Al and Grandma never listen to me. I promise, promise, promise to eat everything on my plate, but I want some now. You can sneak it from the freezer and I’ll eat it right here and I’ll never tell. And you will be my best friend forever and ever! Please!”

He squirmed in pure terror and stuck to his guns. “I can’t.”

Taylor started to cry.

At first he thought he could do it. A couple of tears, he’d calm her down, walk her back to her mother, and still be the adult in this whole thing. But she opened her mouth and wailed while tears dripped down her smooth, rosy cheeks. Her lips shook and she looked so miserable Nick couldn’t take it anymore. After begging her to please stop and she continued, he did the only thing left.

“Okay, I’ll get you the ice cream.”

She sniffed prettily. Droplets clung to her long blonde lashes and stuck to her cheeks. “I’ll wait here.”

He left her on the potty and walked back out in the hallway. He figured he’d meet a parent or grandparent or aunt along the way to stop him, but he just walked into the kitchen filled with chaos, opened the freezer, and found a popsicle. Still he paused, awaiting discovery.

Nothing.

So, he unwrapped the popsicle, grabbed a napkin, and walked back to the bathroom.

Taylor was still on the toilet.

He held out the ice cream and she reached her chubby hand out and broke into one of the sweetest smiles he had ever seen in his life. His heart did a quick meltdown, and she stared into his eyes and promised him the world. “Thank you. You will be my very best new friend!”

Pride streamed through him as she enjoyed her ice cream. Kids were always hungry anyway, so he was positive she’d eat her dinner, but decided he better tell her this whole thing was to be kept under wraps.

“Uh, Taylor?”

“What?”

“Don’t forget the ice cream is a secret, remember? Just between you and me.”

She nodded seriously. “Emily and me have lots of secrets together. But we can’t tell anybody.”

He nodded with satisfaction. “Exactly. Secrets aren’t told to anybody.”

Someone knocked on the door. “Nick, are you in there?”

“Go away, Alexa, we’re fine. Be out in a minute.”

“Auntie Al, guess what?” Taylor screamed. “I got ice cream!”

Nick closed his eyes. Leave it to a female to break your heart.

The door swung open. Nick imagined the scene before her eyes. Taylor on the potty, eating an ice cream pop, while he crouched on the small wicker stool in front of her, holding a wad of toilet paper in hand.

“Ah, shit.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Taylor repeated happily. “See my ice cream, Auntie Al? I got it from him! My new best friend.”

Nick waited for the explosion. The laughter. Anything but the dead silence from the bathroom doorway. When he finally got brave enough to look up, Alexa stared at him with sheer amazement, shock, and another emotion he didn’t understand. Almost tenderness.

She cleared her throat and got to work. “You really did it this time, squirt. Have one last bite and give the pop to me.”

“Okay.”

Nick wondered why she didn’t argue with Alexa, then figured he should be grateful. His wife deftly wrapped the leftover ice cream in a wad of tissues and buried it in the bathroom garbage. She nudged Nick aside, picked Taylor off the toilet, and took the wad of paper from him to clean her up. Alexa pulled up Taylor’s underwear, straightened her dress, washed both of their hands, and did a quick wipe of her mouth to remove any evidence.

Then Alexa walked out of the bathroom with a very happy three-year-old and a confused adult. She squatted and spoke directly in Taylor’s ear. The little girl nodded, then took off to join the guests.

“What did you say to her?” he asked.

She smiled with an experienced smugness. “Told her if she breathed a word about any ice cream, she’d never get any more from us. Trust me, the kid speaks our language.”

“You’re not mad?”

She turned to face him. “Are you kidding? You have no idea how many things I’ve snuck that little angel. She cried, didn’t she?”

His mouth gaped open. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“Happens to me all the time. You didn’t have a chance. Oh, one more thing.”

“What?”

“I am incredibly turned on right now and will show you exactly how much when we get home.”

Astonishment cut through him. “You’re playing with me.”

She gave him an open mouthed, curl-your-toes, drop dead, tongue-to-tongue kiss. Then pulled away with a sly smile. “No. But I’ll be certain to play with you later.”

Then she sashayed out of the bedroom leaving him with a hard on and a confused look on his face.

Women.

…

Two weeks later, Nick wondered if all power was lost once a man had sex with a woman.

His last presentation with Conte assured him a decision would be final by the first of the year. He squirmed the whole damn time he spoke with the man, who immediately asked how Alexa was, but thought he handled the situation well. The investors had whittled it down to Nick and StarPrises—a big company housed in Manhattan. He had one big conference to unveil his final model and design before Christmas. Thank God Drysell backed him hard, because they neared the final battle. Unfortunately, Nick had no clue which way the Count swayed and it made him nervous as hell.

He longed to come home and linger over a warm, hearty supper, watch the Giants game, and crawl into bed with his wife. With full intentions of not sleeping. As he threw the door open, stomped off the lingering snow from his shoes, and walked in, he was wondering how fast he could eat, get the score, and then move on to the important part when he stepped in a pile of dog shit.

He roared in outrage and lifted his shoe. Italian hand-stitched leather now stained a darker brown than intended. His beautiful wooden floors smeared. The stench of waste instead of cooking. He was going to kill her.

“Alexa!”

She rushed in from the kitchen, flushed from either guilt or shame, then stopped short. A long skinny shadow lurked behind her. Nick’s eyes narrowed as he took in the mangy hound dog that had haunted his dreams. And decided, sex or no sex, this woman was no longer in control.

“He goes. Now.”

“But—”

“I mean it, Alexa. For God’s sakes, I want that dog out of my house. Look what he just did.”

She disappeared, then proceeded to clean up the mess with a garbage bag and a wad of paper towels. He carefully slipped his shoe off and stepped around the pile while he watched her dive into the task and her explanation with equal fervor.

“Just listen for a second. I realize we can’t keep him, I won’t even try to convince you, but the shelter called and told me his time was up and he’d be put to sleep today. I don’t know why nobody wants him—he’s a lovely dog—and if we keep him for a day or two I promise I can find a home.”

The shadow hovered by the kitchen, yellow eyes reflecting no emotion as the canine awaited the verdict. Nick made a growl of disgust. “Nobody wants him because he’s the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen. He could be dangerous.”

She gasped. “He’s very sweet, doesn’t even know how to growl. The shelter told me they found him on a deserted road with a broken leg. He was probably thrown from a moving car.”

Shit.

“I know he’s messy but I think he’s smart and no one ever trained him. I’ll keep him in the back room and clean up and I promise he’ll be out in a few days. Please, Nick? Just give me a couple of days.”

Irritated with her plea and his reaction, he took off his other shoe and walked over to the mutt. As if in challenge, he stood before him and waited for any sign of violence or street breeding for an excuse to throw him out.

Instead, he got nothing. No wag of the tail, no dropping of the head, no growl. Just…nothing…from a pair of vacant yellow eyes.

A chill raced down his spine and he turned from the dog, determined not to be affected. “Just a few days. I mean it.”

She looked so relieved and grateful he began to wonder if he actually did have some power. Then decided to press his advantage. “Have you cooked dinner?”

“Almost ready. Salmon steaks with fresh vegetables and rice pilaf. The wine is chilling. Salad is done. You’ll have plenty of time to see the Giants game.”

He cocked his head, impressed with her full knowledge of what a man likes to get back when he gives in. He took the test a step further. “Think I’ll take a shower first before dinner.”

“I’ll bring a glass of wine up for you then. You can eat in front of the television.”

“Maybe I will.”

She rushed to take his jacket and usher him upstairs. Nick decided a few days with a dog would be worth her gratitude. With that pleasurable thought, he stepped into his bedroom and shed his clothes.

…

Alexa escorted her new temporary dog into the back room, which had been covered in old, ripped sheets she had found in her apartment. She set him up with food and water and placed a kiss on his head. Her heart dropped a little when she noticed he never wagged his tail. Not once. Something about this hound dog pulled at her, but she was content just to have bought some extra time to find him a loving home.

Now it was time to service her husband.

She poured a glass of wine and made her way upstairs. The sound of the shower echoed from the hallway, and her belly tugged with delicious anticipation. Already, a warm dampness seeped between her thighs when she thought of making love to Nick. Her nipples hardened as she opened the bathroom door to a cloud of steam and placed the glass on the sink. Then began to take off her clothes.

“Your wine is on the sink, honey.”

His voice came out muffled. “Thanks.”

She slid the shower curtain to the side, stepped into the large marble stall, and smiled. “You’re welcome.”

The man looked like he’d been hit on the head with a sledgehammer.

She took the opportunity to slide her arms around his neck. Slick, wet muscles pressed against her curves, and a map of hard ridges and hair-roughened skin made her crazed. She couldn’t get enough of his body. She realized they’d never showered together before, had never gotten to that level of intimacy, but he seemed to rise to the occasion perfectly.

And literally.

Within two seconds, his erection grew and pulsed in demand, and he groaned deep in his throat and reached for her, his mouth coming down on hers to taste and claim and pleasure.

His tongue plunged in and out with little finesse, just raw hunger, and she dug her nails into his wet skin and slid as close to his soapy body as she could manage. The showerhead poured spray over them like a waterfall, and her hair dripped around her face as she frantically moved her hands over his body. She kissed him back hard, her tongue swirling around his, and then she pulled back and knelt in front of him.

“Alexa.”

“Shut up.” She opened her mouth and took him deep. The water beat down on her head and back, and she swirled her tongue around the ridged lines of his penis, loving his taste and his texture and the low curses ripped from his lips that revealed his pleasure.

He dragged her back up with frantic motions, moved into a wide-legged stance and pulled her up toward his chest. He paused as he stared deep into her eyes. Then brought her down hard on his throbbing length.

She gasped. He pulsed inside and her muscles clenched in welcome. Fierce desire stabbed through her as he clasped her hips and moved her up and down. She cried out and bit down on his shoulder as the motions grew fiercer, and she threw her head back and shook out her wet hair and screamed as she orgasmed around him.

He followed her until she slumped against him, her knees and legs trembling, and propped herself up against his chest, pressing kisses over him as she practically purred with satisfaction. He held her for a long time, under the steamy sting of the water, and when she finally lifted her head, he smoothed back her hair.

“The dog can stay for a week.”

She laughed and ran her fingers over the lines of his face, loving the way he looked when he relaxed and teased her, loving every stubborn part of this man who was her business partner and husband and so much more.

“I didn’t do this for the dog. This was purely for selfish reasons.”

“My kind of woman.”

“I brought your wine. Dinner is ready.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept looking at her. Unbelievably, her heartbeat quickened and her nipples peaked. Almost embarrassed, she turned to go but he stopped her, and his grin grew lascivious as he slid one hand down her front and gently pressed one finger into her.

Her breath caught as she quickened, as he coaxed the tiny throbbing bud to flower and she gripped his shoulders and shook her head in denial at the power he had over her.

“I can’t be—”

“Yes, you can. Again, Alexa.”

He plunged his finger deep, moved back and forth against her swollen lips, and her hips arched upward to take him. He grew hard and parted her legs and surged forward again. She rode him with a wild abandon she had never shown another lover and later when her body shivered with aftershocks, he held her, then turned off the water and gently dried her. His ministrations were tender, his eyes hooded as he seemed to withhold certain emotions from her. She allowed him his secrets, and took what he gave with a greed that shocked her with its intensity. But he never had to know. He never had to glimpse how deeply she felt for him, or discover the secret she had always suspected and finally admitted to herself.

She loved him.

Completely. Every part of him, good and bad, her friend and lover and partner and rival. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, giving him everything, even though she knew he didn’t want her. She crammed the knowledge to a secret place inside. Then realized she’d take whatever he gave, even though it would never be enough.

She kissed him once, smiled, and kept the sadness from her face. “Ready for dinner?”

Puzzlement flickered over his face, almost as if he knew she kept something important from him, but then he smiled back. “Yes.”

He took her hand and led her out.

…

“Go away.”

The dog just looked at him without expression. Nick peered out the window at the falling snow and glanced at his watch. BookCrazy had closed a few hours ago and Alexa still wasn’t home. The roads were icing up, and the forecast stated they were in the middle of a pre-holiday blizzard. Everyone seemed overjoyed that it might be a white Christmas. Personally, Nick didn’t care as long as they cleared the roads and the power stayed on.

He made a face when he thought of Alexa calling him a Scrooge. She drove him crazy with her love of festivities, decorating the house, insisting on a real tree, even baking holiday cookies. Which seemed to look better than they actually tasted. When he told her the truth, she’d thrown the cookie at him. At least the hound dog had cleaned up the crumbs.

Nick glanced over at the doorway again. The skinny canine skulked behind the corner and peered at him with those yellow eyes. The week was almost up, and the mutt would finally be gone. He didn’t like the way the dog followed him around and watched every movement. He didn’t act like a normal dog who barked and wagged his tail and slurped water. This one reminded him of a ghost. Alexa forced him to eat, drink, and taught him how to be walked. The mutt went through all the motions but his eyes remained distant, as if waiting for the real truth to be revealed. As if waiting to be dumped back on that highway. Alone.

Nick shook his head, annoyed at the shiver that raced down his spine. He’d been having dreams lately of the dog Jed had made him get rid of, dreams that haunted him until he reached for his wife in the middle of the night to exorcise the lingering images. He found himself doing that a lot lately. Losing himself in her body, in her warmth and heat, until the deep chill he carried within himself softened and the sharp edges blurred.

The yellow Volkswagon pulled into the driveway and relief skated through him. She flung open the front door and stomped the snow from her boots, laughing in sheer delight as she shook the white flakes from her hair.

“Isn’t this great? We’re going to get another blizzard next week so we may have a white Christmas.”

“Why are you late?”

“Were you worried?” She shot him a teasing look and took off her coat.

“No. But I told you last week you needed new tires on your car. Have you done that yet?”

“Not yet.”

“You can’t drive in the snow with bad tires. I told you to take the BMW and drop your car off.”

She scrunched up her nose. “I hate the BMW, it makes me nervous. Besides, I’ve driven in worse weather than this with worse vehicles. Oooh, the fire feels good.” She warmed up her hands and sneezed. “Damn cold, it just won’t go away. Do we have any holiday wine for tonight? I think It’s a Wonderful Life is on at nine.”

He scowled at her obvious attempt to ignore his advice. “That movie is corny. You’ve been sick for the past few days. You need to go to the doctor.”

“I have no time. Holidays are the busiest season at the store.”

“I’ll bring you tomorrow. Then I’ll drop you off at the bookstore and take your car to the shop for new tires. You should get rid of that thing anyway. Just buy a new one.”

She made a rude noise. “Okay, Mr. Moneybags. I can’t afford a new car right now and I happen to like my Bug.”

“I’ll buy it.”

“No thanks.”

Frustration nipped at his nerve endings. She loudly proclaimed her motive was money for marrying him. So why wouldn’t she take his money? He’d offered his free expertise for her cafe. A new car. A damn new wardrobe, though to him she’d look perfect in a sack. Everyone else grabbed at his money, which was the easiest thing to give. But no, not her, she refused to take a penny over what the contract stated and still managed to make him feel guilty. She drove him nuts. “You’re my wife and I’m allowed to buy you a car.”

“A car’s not in the contract.”

“Neither is sex.”

He waited for her to lose her temper but she just laughed. Then sneezed again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I’ll keep the sex and say no to the car.”

He stomped over to her and the dog cowered. “Think of it as a gift then.”

“You can buy me flowers if you want, but I’m not getting rid of the car. Boy, are you in a mood today.”

“I’m not in a mood.” As he uttered the statement, he got even more annoyed. His denial made the accusation seem more truthful. “Why won’t you let me do something nice for you?”

She plopped down on the floor in front of the fire, kicked off her shoes, and looked up at him. “Let him stay.”

He played dumb. “Who?”

“The dog.”

“I gave you time, Alexa. You promised he’d be out on Friday. I don’t want a dog. I don’t want him.” He waited for the launch attack and steeled himself to win the argument by sheer rationale.

Instead, she nodded, her eyes quiet and a bit sad. “Okay. He’ll be out by tomorrow.”

The guilt gnawed at his gut. He wanted to grab the dog and drive him to the pound tonight. Instead, he watched his wife hold out her arms and begin to croon to the mutt. The ugly, yellow hound inched forward until he paused in front of her. With slow motions, she reached over and laid a hand under the animal’s jaw, stroking underneath his neck as she murmured nonsense. After a while, the quivering muscles relaxed and his ears fell back. Within a few minutes, she urged the dog to lay down in her lap and she continued to stroke his coat, smoother now that she had bathed him, a little fuller now that she had fed him.

Nick watched the whole scene play before his eyes, a mingling of past and present, a battle between loneliness and the risk of pain. And for the first time in weeks, the hound dog seemed to surrender for only a brief moment, let himself bask in the tender ministrations of someone who proclaimed to love him.

And Nick saw his tail begin to thump.

The tiny motion was lost on his wife, who warmed herself in front of the fire with two wounded, lost souls beside her. She gave for no gain of her own, no goal she needed to reach. Love was not a prize but something she owned inside and shared freely. Every night she took him deep into her body and held nothing back. The woman who was his wife was a fierce, proud creature who both shattered and humbled him, and he realized in the glimmer of firelight, that he loved her.

He was in love with his wife.

The knowledge came like a tidal wave that swept him up and knocked him over to then rise, coughing and bruised, shaking his head as he wondered what the hell had happened. He stood there in the middle of the room as she ignored him, and watched his life veer off the main highway to a road filled with rocks and brush and potholes. Staggered with emotion, he took a step back as if to retreat from the whole mess.

Son of a bitch.

He was in love with his wife.

“Nick?”

He opened his mouth to answer, gulped, and tried again. “Yeah?”

“If you don’t want to watch the movie, give me another suggestion. I thought we’d get drunk in front of the fire and watch the blizzard, but if you’re cranky, I’m open to options.”

She was talking about movies and he’d just experienced the biggest crisis in his life. Nick closed his eyes and fought off the emotions that burned through the last crumbling wall and left him with rubble. As if the dog recognized a fellow war victim, he lifted his head and watched.

Then Nick knew what he had to do.

Too new to express his emotions verbally, too confused to see how he’d play out this new hand, those whirling, messy emotions exploded through him until he could only reveal them one way.

He crossed the room and knelt before her. The dog made a low mutter and moved from her lap to disappear into the kitchen. Alexa looked at Nick with a question in her eyes as he laid a palm over her cheek and studied her face. As if seeing her for the first time, he took in every feature and let himself fall into the abyss.

“I want to make love to you.”

…

Alexa listened to her husband say the words and her heart stopped, then pounded in an uneven rhythm. She didn’t know what was different this time, but sensed they had reached a cross in the road, and he was choosing the path less traveled.

They’d made love every night since Michael’s party, sometimes slow, sometimes hot and frantic. He whispered erotic words and compliments, telling her she was beautiful and he wanted her.

But he had never looked deep into her eyes like he knew who she was. As if the outside layers peeled off to reveal the ripe pulp of fruit beneath, Alexa felt exposed to him. She held her breath and waited for him to back away.

Instead, he cupped both of her cheeks in his palms and spoke directly against her lips. “You’re my wife and I want to make love to you.”

Then he kissed her, a warm, slow melding that heated her blood, like syrup being poured over hot pancakes, until her body grew pliant and her lips opened to him and their tongues mated in the ancient rhythm man and woman had danced for centuries.

He slowly pressed her back into the carpet and shed her clothes, pausing to taste and touch every inch of skin revealed to him with a reverence that excited her and humbled her and made her want even more.

With quiet command, he parted her legs and knelt, separating the folds that hid her sex with gentle fingers. And then he kissed her, using his tongue and lips to push her toward the edge, ignoring her frantic motions to pull him back up until she climaxed hard and arched beneath him. He caught her hips and continued kissing her, until a sob caught in her throat and she begged him, begged him…

He surged upward and paused at her entrance.

“Look at me, Alexa.”

Half drugged, she opened her eyes and gazed at the man she loved with every part of her being, waiting for him to claim her, waiting to take anything he could give.

“It’s always been you.” He paused as if to be sure she heard and understood the words. Intensity gleamed within amber depths. He gripped her fingers, as if trying to speak beyond words.

“And it will always be you.” He plunged and she cried out. Never taking his eyes from hers, keeping her fingers within his, he buried himself to the hilt and began to move. Every time he re-entered, he claimed more than her body. The stakes had changed and he was going for her heart, as he continued to give all of himself, pushing her with slow, steady strokes until she hovered on the edge of the cliff. This time when she fell over he followed, holding her hands the whole time he shared the journey. And when they drifted back, he gathered her in his arms in front of the fire, pressed a kiss to her temple, and lay with her in the delicious silence that settled over them like the lazy snow drifting to the ground. She realized something had changed between them, something he wasn’t ready to say yet, and she held tight to the hope, even as she cursed herself for ever having a thought he could belong to her.

A while later, drowsy in the delicious warmth of his body heat, he whispered to her. “The dog can stay.”

She roused herself for a moment and wondered if she’d heard correctly. “What?”

“It’s my gift to you. The dog can stay.”

Overwhelmed, she searched for the words to express what he’d given to her, and like him, found none. So, she reached for him again and brought his head down to hers and showed him in another way.

…

The next day, Nick looked at his very sick wife and shook his head. “I told you so.”

She groaned and flipped over to bury her face in the pillow, then gave a hacking cough. “You’re not supposed to say those words. I need more Nyquil.”

He settled the tray of liquids including chicken soup, water, and juice beside her. “Hell, no, not with the antibiotics and codeine cough syrup. The doctor warned me. No more nasal spray, either. I read an article about it.”

“I want my mother.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss on her tangled hair. “You have the television and remote. A box of tissues. A romance novel and the phone. Get some rest and I’ll be back soon.”

“I have to get to the bookstore. Maggie sucks at customer service.”

“She can handle it for the day. Think of all the men she’ll charm into buying more books. Eat your soup.”

She grumbled something and he gently shut the door behind him.

Nick jumped into the Volkswagon with an air of satisfaction. With her stuck in bed, he finally had the opportunity to get new tires and an oil change on her rust bucket. He’d personally escorted her to the doctor, gotten the prescription, stopped at the pharmacy for supplies, then settled her underneath the covers.

A piece of him watched the scene from above and noted he acted like a husband. A real husband, not a fake one. The worst part was the deep satisfaction the role gave him.

He dropped the car off, grabbed all the papers from the glove compartment, and settled himself to wait. He hoped she kept the history of the mechanics in the jumbled mess, and began sifting through invoices.

The formal letter from the bank stopped him cold.

He read through the letter and noted the date. Over a month ago. Way after the wedding. After she had got the money. What the hell was going on?

His BlackBerry buzzed. Distracted, he picked it up. “Hello?”

“About time you took my call.”

Memories from his past dragged him back. With long practice, his heart chilled, along with his tone. “Jed. What do you want?”

His father laughed. “Is that the type of greeting I’m warranted from my own son? How’ve you been?”

Nick dropped the letter in his lap and went through the motions. “Fine. Back from Mexico so soon?”

“Yeah, I got married.”

Wife number four. His mother would pop out of hiding to make trouble—that seemed to be the pattern. Maggie and he were only pawns to make the game more interesting. Nausea clawed at his gut. “Congratulations. Listen, I gotta go, no time to chat.”

“I have something to discuss with you, Son. Meet me for lunch.”

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

“I just need an hour, tops. Make the time.”

The warning pulsed through the phone. Nick squeezed his eyes shut as he fought instinct. He better meet him, just in case Jed had some twisted idea to go after Dreamscape and challenge the will. What a mess. “Fine. I’ll meet you at three o’clock. Planet Diner.”

He clicked off the phone and glanced back at the letter.

Why would Alexa lie about her use for the hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Was she involved in something he had never suspected? If she requested a loan from the bank for the cafe and was rejected, where had his money gone?

The questions whirled through his mind and made no sense. For some reason, she didn’t want him to discover the truth. If she really wanted more money, she would’ve asked him to co-sign the loan papers and it’d be a guaranteed acceptance. What the hell was going on?

He waited for the car and took a trip to the office to stall for time. His quick call to check on her confirmed she’d be fine until he finished his lunch with Jed. Temptation urged him to ask some serious questions, but another part of him wondered if he wanted to know the truth. He may be in love with her, but the bottom line still hadn’t changed. He couldn’t offer her stability and children. Eventually, if she stayed, she’d end up hating him. Terror washed over him at the thought.

Jed waited in a corner booth. He studied the man who shared his blood. Money and laziness seemed to agree with him. His hair was highlighted by the Mexican sun, and the deep tan that lined his face gave him a character he didn’t really have. He was a tall man, and wore his designer clothes well. Today he was clad in a Ralph Lauren red sweater, black pants, and leather loafers. His dark eyes held a slight sheen of alcohol-induced humor. Probably a cocktail before confronting his long lost son. As Nick slid into the booth, he noted the similarities in their faces and bone structure. He shuddered. What he dreaded most in life was sitting right across from him. The possibility of becoming his father.

“Nick, good to see you.” Jed reached out and shook his hand, then spent a few minutes flirting with the waitress.

Nick ordered a coffee. “So, what brings you to New York, Jed?”

“This is Amber’s hometown. Came back for a visit. I’m thinking of settling back in town for a while. Set up house. Maybe we can spend a bit more time together?”

Nick tested the spring on the box for any emotions but it held tight. Mercifully, he felt nothing. “Why?”

Jed shrugged. “Thought I’d hang out with my only son. It’s been a while, you know. How’s business?”

“Good.” Nick sipped his coffee. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Heard you got married. Congrats. Love, money, or sex?”

Nick blinked. “Excuse me?”

His father gave a loud laugh. “Why’d you marry her? I married your mother for love and that ended in a frickin’ disaster. Wife two and three were for sex, and that blew up. But Amber is all about the money. Money and some respect. I already sense this one will be permanent.”

“Interesting theory.”

“So, which one is it?”

His jaw tightened. “Love.”

Jed hooted and cut into his pancakes. “You’re screwed. At least you got a nice piece of the pie from Uncle Earl. I heard all about it.”

“Don’t even think about contesting the will. It’s already done.”

“Arrogant, are you? You know, I think we’re more alike than you want to believe. We both like money, and we both like women. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Jed pointed his fork at him. “I’m not here to make trouble—I got my own fortune and don’t need yours. But Amber has a bug up her ass about me getting closer to my children. I thought we could all do lunch together. You know, Maggie and you, and Amber’s kids.”

The ridiculousness of the situation caused a moment of speechlessness. Nick thought of all the times he’d begged Jed to have a lousy conversation with him, let alone a meal. And now because his new wife pressed him, Jed assumed he’d jump to experiment with a father/son relationship. A twinge of bitterness leaked through the ice. Too little. Too late. Even worse, Jed didn’t really even care.

Nick drained his coffee. “Appreciate the offer, Jed, but I’ll pass. Haven’t needed you before. Don’t need you now.”

His father’s eyes turned mean. “Always thought you were better than me, huh? The golden boy. Listen up, son, blood is blood, and soon you’ll realize you’re destined to make the same mistakes I did.” He practically snarled his next words. “Wanna know the truth? I married your mother for love, but she only wanted my money. Once I sniffed out the truth, I was going to break it off but it was too late. She got pregnant. And I got stuck. With you.”

Nick swallowed as the nightmare enfolded before him. “What?”

Jed gave a nasty laugh. “That’s right, you were her desperate attempt to keep me, and it worked. A kid means child support and alimony for life. I decided to stay and make it work, but I never forgave her.”

The knowledge made perfect sense as the pieces snapped into place. Jed never wanted him in the first place, nor Maggie. “Why tell me this now?”

His father smiled coldly. “As a warning. Watch this new wife of yours. If she married you for money and feels you slipping away, the oops will be coming. Mark my words. And then you’ll be trapped just like me.” He paused. “Because you are just like me, Nick.”

Nick looked at his father for a long time. A tiny trickle of fear escaped from the box as he recognized the man who had fathered him garnered no respect from his own family. What if Jed Ryan was right? What if all these years he’d been fighting his genes, and his time was up? What if he was destined to become like his father, whether he took the short or the long road?

The past few weeks had tricked him into believing in things that didn’t exist. Love. Truth. Family. Alexa had already lied about the money. What else did she lie about? A chill skated down his spine. What if she had been working a bigger plan the whole time he’d been falling in love with her?

The doubts attacked with a vicious punch, but he ignored them and held his head up. “We’re nothing alike. Good luck, Jed.”

He threw some bills on the table and left, but his spoken words mocked him with every step.

Because in his secret heart, he wondered if it was really true. He wondered if he was more like Jed Ryan than he thought.