Passion by the Book. Pamela Yaye

her arms swinging at her sides and her heeled bedroom slippers pounding violently against the hardwood floor. Seizing the lock, she yanked open the front door and planted herself in front of her husband like a living, breathing statue. “Marcus, where in the world have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you!”

      “I can tell.” Chuckling good-naturedly, Marcus Young patted his wife on the hips. “Baby, get back inside. It’s freezing out here!”

      The crisp Chicago wind sliced through her designer robe, chilling her legs to the bone. Stepping aside, Simone reluctantly allowed her husband to enter the foyer.

      “I didn’t expect you to still be up,” he said, slipping off his polished leather shoes. “It’s almost midnight. You’re usually fast asleep by now.”

      The stench of sweat made Simone wrinkle her nose. “You stink.”

      “It’s nothing a quick shower can’t cure.” Marcus wrapped his arms around her and lowered his mouth for a kiss. “Come here and give me some sugar.”

      Simone turned her face toward the wall. “Knock it off, Marcus. I’m not in the mood.”

      “Lighten up, babe. It’s all good.”

      Oh, no, it’s not! His blithe, carefree attitude aggravated her, and when he strode nonchalantly into their gourmet kitchen, opened the stainless steel fridge and grabbed a bottle of Vitaminwater, her frustration mounted. “Where have you been?” she repeated slowly, as if he was hard of hearing. “You said you’d be home in time for dinner.”

      “Lower your voice, baby. You’ll wake the boys.”

      “Is it too much to ask for you to call when you’re going to be late?”

      Marcus broke the tab on his water bottle and leaned against the sleek, granite countertop. Hiding a self-incriminating grin, one that was sure to fan the flames, he tasted the cold, lemon-flavored drink. Despite the peeved, almost combative expression on his wife’s face, she looked as pretty and as youthful as the day they’d met. It was hard to believe they’d been married for five years. It seemed like just yesterday he was chasing Simone down for her number. It was her staggering beauty that had caught his eye in that smoky, crowded nightclub, but it was her intelligence and wit that kept him coming back for more. And after discovering that she was pregnant—after dating for only six months—he’d gladly “put a ring on it.” I hit the jackpot the day I married Simone, he thought, admiring her dark eyes, plum-thick lips that looked as sweet as they tasted and curves that made him drool like an old basset hound.

      And she looks even sexier when she’s mad, he thought, wetting his lips with his tongue. They were opposites in every sense of the word—he was a calm, laid-back type, while Simone was headstrong and impulsive, but Marcus felt their differences only heightened their chemistry. And seeing her riled up always made him hard. Turned on, he suppressed the urge to reach for her shapely body. She’d gained some weight over the summer, five, maybe ten pounds, which had gone straight to her hips. All the more to hold, he decided.

      His mouth dried, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears like a jackhammer. He was trying to listen to what Simone was saying, but when her silk robe parted, revealing a wealth of cleavage, Marcus lost his focus. How was he supposed to concentrate when she looked so damn tempting in that short, virgin-white nightgown? The need to touch her was intense, overwhelming. But Marcus knew now was not the time to put the moves on his wife. Her hands were glued to her hips, and her stiff, unyielding stance told him he would be asking for trouble if he tried to kiss her again. But dammit if he didn’t want to.

      “Samson’s closed hours ago, and I know you weren’t working late because I called your office twice and there was no answer.”

      “My eight o’clock meeting ran longer than expected and—”

      “Liar!” she accused, her thunderous voice tinged with disgust. “You weren’t working late. You were probably at the bar with your stupid friends doing God knows what.”

      “You’re right. I did go to All-Star, but that was after the meeting with my accountant.” Marcus scratched at his neck. His skin felt itchy, like he’d spent the last hour rolling around in a bed of poison ivy. To get some relief, he loosened the knot on his tie.

      * * *

      Simone watched Marcus shrug off his jacket, and she couldn’t help admiring how nicely his broad shoulders filled out his suit. All those years he’d spent training for various bodybuilding tournaments had given him a sculpted physique, and although he’d turned thirty-five over the summer, he had a better body than a college athlete. That’s why he was paid substantially to train everyone from movie stars to chart-topping singers and entertainers.

      Marcus was devastatingly handsome, and it didn’t matter if he was wearing jeans, basketball shorts or a three-piece suit; he always looked fly as hell. He stood over six feet tall, had thick, perfectly groomed eyebrows and a smile that incited lustful thoughts in women of all ages. He was rugged, masculine, undeniably sexy with killer swag. And a pain in the ass, too, sometimes, Simone decided, crossing her arms.

      “I took the staff at the new downtown center out for drinks,” he explained, guzzling a mouthful of water. “I thought treating them to a beer would be a nice gesture on my part. You know, to show them that I’m not just the owner, but a part of the team.”

      Simone didn’t want to stand in the way of her husband’s career, but she wanted to see him for more than ten minutes a day. Their sons needed him, too. “You promised Jayden you’d set up his electric train set,” she said, forcing herself to speak calmly. “He sat at the front window waiting for you, but you never showed. He’s only five years old. How do you think that made him feel?”

      “I’ll make it up to Jayden this weekend. After I get his train set going, I’ll take him to the mall and buy him whatever he wants.”

      “The kids don’t need any more toys, Marcus. They just need you.”

      “Cut me a little slack. I’m trying my best.”

      “So am I!” Simone argued, her voice raising despite her attempt to keep it under control. “It isn’t easy keeping on top of the chores and taking care of the boys alone, you know.”

      “Then ask the housekeeper to work a few more days a week. Better yet, make her full-time. You know that girl loves to bust some suds!”

      Marcus chuckled at his own joke, but when he saw the terse expression on his wife’s face, he stopped. Simone didn’t laugh, didn’t even crack a smile. He frowned, wondered what that was all about. She always laughed at his jokes, even the corny ones, and usually fired back a witty retort or two.

      Marcus thought of telling Simone about his upcoming business trip to Manchester—the one he was hoping she’d accompany him on—but he sensed he should hold off. He’d tell her when she was in a better mood. Like tomorrow during breakfast, or the next time they cuddled in bed. With two kids, a demanding business and a large extended family, finding one-on-one time was rare, but he was going to make time this weekend to hang out with his wife. Who knows? Marcus thought, his gaze clinging to her soft, moist lips. Maybe we can get started on baby number three.

      “I hate to see you stressed out, so if you need more help around here just ask the staffing agency to send over a maid.” Pleased that he’d found a solution to her problem, he moved closer. He touched her cheek, stroked her flesh ever so softly. “Hire a nanny to help you with the boys, Simone. That will free you up to do more things in the afternoon. Like coming to see me at the office.”

      “I don’t need a nanny, Marcus. I need you to help me raise the boys and spend quality time with us every day. Is that too much to ask?”

      “No, of course not, but sometimes my schedule just doesn’t allow it.”

      A shiver rippled through her, but Simone steeled herself against his caress. “Why can’t you be home for dinner? Or take weekends off like everybody else?”

      “I will, baby,