Baby Trouble. Beth Cornelison

no trouble understanding why he’d fallen for her the first time around. Or the second time around. He figured falling in love with the same woman twice was proof positive he’d chosen the right one.

      She came into his arms, soft and willing and smelling of Chanel No. 5, his favorite. “Have I told you today that I love you?” he murmured as they swayed to the slow jazz tune.

      “I do believe you’ve been remiss in that department.”

      “My sincere apologies. Perhaps I can show you how much I love you instead?”

      She laughed. “I really never thought you’d ask that. I was beginning to think you didn’t miss making love with me.”

      “Ahh, sweet Laura. I was only trying to think of your health. I will want to make love to you until the day I die.”

      “Here’s hoping that’s a very long time from now.”

      He smiled down at her. “I don’t know about you, but I’m planning to live to be one hundred and fifty years old.”

      “That sounds like a plan.”

      They danced in silence after that, letting anticipation build between them. Finally, he turned her in his arms toward the bedroom. Her dress had a long zipper, which he drew down by slow degrees as they went, his fingers dipping inside to relish her satin skin and the inward curve of her back. Gratitude swelled in his heart for whatever fate had brought them together.

      For her part, Laura tugged his shirt clear of his trousers and made a slow production of unbuttoning it, kissing her way down his chest button by button. His stomach muscles contracted hard as she approached his belt buckle. Her clever fingers did away with that barrier, and then he was sucking in his breath hard, falling back onto the bed when she pushed him gently. She’d obviously given tonight a great deal of thought, and he was happy to go along with her plans for them. For now, at least.

      She took her time, teasing him until his entire body thrummed with terrible tension. Finally he rolled over to return the favor. He kissed every inch of her body, re-acquainting himself with it, enjoying the new firmness across her flat stomach, loving the extra fullness in her breasts—and the added sensitivity that came with it. Her soft gasps of pleasure were just as he remembered, the way she arched up into his hands, the fire in her eyes as he stroked her body until it sang for him.

      A shadow of fear crossed his mind, but he shoved it away. Nothing must hurt her. Hurt them. He ordered himself to stay in the moment. Focus on the now. “You drive me out of my mind,” he muttered against her skin. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

      Moaning as his fingers made magic upon her body, she pulled him down to her impatiently. “Nick,” she gasped, “Please. I’ve waited so long for you. I want you now.”

      Ahh, always direct, his Laura. “I could never deny you what you want, my love.”

      Taking into consideration her long abstinence, he entered her gently, stunned at how tight and slick she was. She surged up against him immediately, crying out in pleasure. Her eyes glazed the way they always did when they made love, and he relished the way she bit her lower lip. As if she’d actually be able to hold back the cries of pleasure about to claim her. He withdrew slightly and then filled her again in a single slow stroke. She cried out against his shoulder, shuddering from head to foot.

      He smiled down at her. “Let us see just how much pleasure you can stand, shall we?”

      He paced himself carefully, driving her farther and farther over the edge. With each climax, her smile became more brilliant, her eyes more limpid, his own pleasure more intense. And the happier he became, the more afraid he became. He drove himself mercilessly, forcing himself not to think of the darkness creeping up on him, holding it back from Laura by sheer force of will.

      Finally, when his mental strength was at an end, the battle lost, he gave in to the dark tide sweeping over him, surging into her, driving her over the edge one last time. As they climaxed together, it was so magnificent and terrible that, as tears of joy ran down her face, he wasn’t far from tears himself. Tears of sheer terror. The better things were between them, the more certain he was that all of it could end at any moment.

      He was losing it. Happiness made him unhappy. Joy terrified him. It was all coming apart before his eyes, his life unraveling because he was too screwed up just to enjoy what they had. But he couldn’t shake the sense of something bad approaching, something stealthy and evil. And it was coming for him.

      “I love you, Nick.” Her gaze was clear, untroubled. She sensed nothing, and she had the finely honed instincts of a CIA agent. Desperate, he ordered himself to hold on. Keep it together. He mustn’t lose what little sanity he had.

      He rolled to his side, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze down at her. “I love you, too, darling.” Must concentrate on that. Laura. Love. The darkness retreated a little from his mind. His left hand idly stroked down her rosy body. “Better?” he murmured.

      “Spectacular. I feel like a woman again.”

      He leaned down to kiss her. “You were always a woman. A beautiful one. You’re an amazing mother, and it only makes you sexier.”

      “You’re just saying that to be polite.”

      “No, I’m not.” He frowned. “Never doubt your attractiveness. The more sides of you I see, the more attracted to you I am.”

      “Never change, Nick.”

      If only. He felt as if he’d been living in a state of suspended animation for the past year. As if time was passing, but he wasn’t really living. As Laura drifted to sleep beside him, the darkness pushed forward again, nearly choking him with certainty that this sweet interlude was about to end, and life was about to come looking for him with payback in mind.

       Chapter 3

      The bedside clock had passed 2 a.m. when Nick gave up on sleep. He slid out from under the covers and dressed quietly, tiptoeing downstairs in anticipation of Ellie’s imminent feeding. He pulled a bottle of pumped breast milk out of the refrigerator, warmed it in the microwave and went back upstairs.

      Turning off the baby monitor, he sat down in the rocking chair to wait. Sure enough, in about ten minutes, the baby started to stir. He picked her up, inhaling the sweet scent of her. “Good evening, little angel. What say we let Mommy sleep tonight?”

      Ellie, a happy and cooperative baby, readily took the bottle from him, snuggling close against his chest with a trust that took his breath away. He loved Laura with all his being, but the feelings that swelled in his heart as he gazed down at his daughter pushed his capacity for love to new heights he’d heretofore had no idea existed. Adoration mixed with protectiveness, hope for her future, and wonder at the miracle of her existence expanded in his heart to make room for his tiny daughter.

      He changed her as she grew sleepy and rocked her for just a minute or two before her eyes closed. He laid her down gently in her crib and watched her sleep until it dawned on him that he was standing there grinning like a blessed fool.

      Restless, he wandered downstairs. Predictably, his feet carried him to his office. Or more accurately to his laptop computer. He sat down at his desk in the dark and cranked it up. He didn’t stop to question what he was doing. It was time.

      He typed in the name, Nikolas Spiros, and hit the search button. Skipping the tabloids, he read story after story from the business pages chronicling the tragic mental breakdown of Greece’s richest shipping magnate. There were even pictures of him, bearded and wild looking. Abrupt memory flashed of his captors hanging a white sheet in his box and taking pictures of him standing in front of it. Bastards.

      According to the articles, he’d been institutionalized at a private facility. Later stories talked about his withdrawal from public life. His wish to live quietly and not involve himself