Chapter 7

Emma's hands shook as she pulled the baby doll top over her head. She was afraid she might snag it with a fingernail or tear it with her big head. The darn thing was expensive. And she had never worn anything like this before. Her idea of sexy nightclothes had always been an oversized t-shirt. She adjusted the yellow bows, tugging at the black and red lace that rubbed lightly against her skin.

She didn't want to look at herself in the mirror, but she had to be sure her hair was still sitting evenly on her head, that her makeup had not smeared on the thin, sheer material, that her nipples weren't lopsided under the tight band of lace. She blushed as she met her own eyes in the mirror, but had to admit it did not look as bad as she had thought it might. Not quite like she imagined Jen had looked in it, but not bad.

She heard an engine in the front drive. She ran to the sliding glass doors and glanced down, spotted Steve wearily climbing out of his car. A shiver of anticipation ran up her spine as she watched him move.

She had taken the kids to her parents' house for the night. The house was empty, a candlelight dinner waiting in the dining room.

There was nothing standing in the way of a romantic evening at home with her husband.

She took one more look at herself in the mirror. She straightened the top, adjusted the unfamiliar thong panties, resisting the urge to pull them out of a place no underwear should venture. Licked her lips. And then she headed for the door.

She could hear his voice in his study. Already on the phone.

She went to the door and leaned against the jamb, watching him. He had his back to her as he shuffled through the thin stack of mail she had laid on his desk the day before. She had always liked his back, the way his broad shoulders strained and stretched against his shirt, the way his waist tapered into the top of his pants, the way his ass flared just enough to give some shape to his lower body. Sometimes the desire to run a hand over that perfect ass was too much to resist.

"Hey," she said.

Steve held up a finger as he continued to talk into the phone. His assistant. She could tell by the less than patient tone of his voice.

"The kids are at my mom's," she said.

Again he thrust that finger into the air.

Any other time, she might have been annoyed by his response. But tonight she was determined to keep things harmonious, to overcome some of the barriers that had, somehow, been erected between them.

She walked into the room, moving slowly and deliberately in case he turned and saw her. She wanted to give the best impression. But he didn't. She moved up behind him, lay a hand lightly on the center of his back. He turned slightly, but didn't really focus on her. Instead, he turned away from her, continuing his phone conversation.

She moved closer, pressed her lips lightly to the rough linen of his oxford shirt. She traced the hollow space that defined his spine. Her hand fell to the top of his slacks. She pushed her fingers under the tightness of his belt, running her nails over the top of his briefs. She pressed her face against the back of his shirt, breathing deeply the scent of him, the scent of his cologne, his sweat, his long flight.

And the smell of something sweet, something floral. Almost like a woman's perfume. She thought it was familiar, thought she had smelled it before. But before she could figure out where, he turned.

"What are you doing?"

She stepped back, a blush already flooding her cheeks, so he could see the full effect of her recently purchased lingerie.

"Trying to seduce my husband," she said simply.

Steve let his eyes travel the length of her, a slow movement that made her nipples strain against lace, made her lower belly ache with need. But then his eyes stopped moving and she saw them flood with horror.

"Where the hell did you get that?"

Emma immediately crossed her arms over her breasts, hiding them from his harsh glare. "I bought it this morning."

"Why?"

She shrugged, backing up a few steps. "Jen bought one the other day and I thought you might like it."

His mouth tightened. He backed away, fumbling for his cellphone. "Go take it off."

"Steve"

"Dammit, Emma!" He moved around the desk, his eyes on everything but her. "Go take that thing off. I can't do this right now."

"Can't do what?"

He just shook his head.

It wouldn't have hurt more if he had dumped hot oil over her head. Her body was hot and cold all at once as the humiliation of what he was saying sunk in. He didn't want her. He didn't want to touch her.

She turned and ran from the room.