Tempted By The Wrong Twin. Rachel Bailey

were ten.

      Harper laughed. “I like your mother.”

      “I’m glad,” Nick said. He dug his free hand in his pocket and let out a long breath. “So, we’re married.”

      The look in her beautiful brown eyes seemed uncertain. “It appears we are.”

      A light breeze picked up a few strands of her hair and blew them across her face, so he tucked them behind her ear. “Ready for the move?”

      Her stomach rumbled, and she smiled ruefully. “As long as we can grab some food on the way.”

      “Deal,” he said, glad for at least one task that didn’t involve lying and where he could make everyone happy.

       Four

      When he pulled up in front of Harper’s house, Nick switched off the engine and grabbed the Mexican takeout they’d bought on the way. Everything was happening so fast, from discovering he was going to be the father of twins, to the wedding today and now moving her things to his place. The adrenaline from the changes was leaving him restless, but hopefully once she moved in, things would slow down some and they could find their feet. They got along well and had chemistry to burn, so he was feeling optimistic this whole plan would work.

      He followed Harper up the small pathway, and after she’d unlocked the front door, he put the food just inside, then scooped her up and carried her through.

      She gasped, but gave a rueful laugh. “I think you’re only supposed to carry the bride over the threshold of the marital home. We won’t be living here, so there’s no need.”

      “I don’t want to tempt fate,” he said, trying not to dwell on how good her weight felt in his arms. “This isn’t a normal marriage—there’s no point pretending otherwise. Yet we both have things riding on it, so I’m planning on doubling up on tradition and doing it at both places.”

      Her amusement slowly faded as the pulse at the base of her neck began to flutter, and he gave himself a moment to fully appreciate that he was holding her curves against his chest. He could feel the heat of her skin through her thin blouse, hear her breath catch in her throat.

      “Nick...” she said, her voice unsteady. “We need to talk about...this. About...intimacy in our marriage.”

      He wanted to lift her a little higher in his arms, bring those pink lips up to meet his, to take his time and kiss her thoroughly, to learn how she liked to be kissed. And he could see from the heat in her eyes that she’d be right on board with that, despite her words. But if they did, they wouldn’t stop. He knew that from experience. From the insistent beat in his blood. And he had a feeling from her tone that she wanted that discussion about intimacy first.

      He put the brakes on every instinct he had and lowered her feet to the ground. The slide of her body lit his every nerve ending, and he had to close his eyes and grit his teeth until she stepped away.

      When he opened his eyes again, she was adjusting her blouse and shaking her head as she looked down at the floor. “And maybe we should talk about it sooner rather than later.”

      “That sounds like a good idea,” he admitted and tried to ignore his body still protesting at the distance between them.

      “Just give me a minute to change. These aren’t moving clothes,” she said, waving a hand at the outfit she’d worn for their wedding. “If you want to get a start on lunch, there are plates in the cupboard above the counter.”

      He wasn’t fooled as he watched her leave. Sure, she needed to change, but the timing was to give her a moment to compose herself. And, if he were honest, he could use the time, too. So, he imagined himself in a cold shower until he had his body back under his control.

      She emerged a few minutes later, having changed into a soft lavender summer dress that set off her tan skin and swirled around her legs, and within moments he was right back needing a cold shower again.

      He cleared his throat and held up the plates, cutlery and food. “I had a look around. The deck out back looks like a good spot for lunch.”

      She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “That sounds lovely.”

      Once they were settled at her outdoor table with lunch on their plates, he leaned back in his seat. She didn’t start eating; instead she pushed the food around her plate, clearly uncomfortable. So he gave her a hand and said, “You wanted to talk about where we stand on intimacy.”

      “Yes.” She straightened her spine. “You said you were okay with consummating our marriage, but I’m not so sure.”

      It was what he’d expected she’d say, but still, he couldn’t see why it would be a problem. “What are you worried will happen?”

      She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “We’ve talked about this being a practical arrangement, and that we’ll be able to walk away after five years if we want. So, wouldn’t the best thing be to keep those boundaries clear?”

      That sounded sensible on the surface, but he had a feeling there was a deeper reason. “You think we’ll fall in love if we sleep together again.”

      “Not necessarily fall in love,” she said, her brows drawn together, “but maybe things would be...messier.”

      In general, he agreed—making love was a big step, and once you’d taken it, there was no going back. And yet... “We’ve already crossed that line. Is holding back now really going to help?”

      She circled her throat with her delicate hand. “It’s different now.”

      “Yeah, I know.” He reached over and unwrapped her hand from her throat, then held it between his. “We’ve done this thing completely backward. Getting pregnant, then getting married, then getting to know each other.”

      “And I think adding intimacy in the middle of that is almost like throwing a grenade in. It’s volatile and unpredictable.”

      “Point taken.” He wondered if she’d deliberately used military imagery to help him see her meaning. Either way, it had worked. “How about we focus on getting to know each other and then revisit the topic in the future.”