"Yes," I said, leaning back in. She pushed at my shoulders.

"No," she said more firmly. I groaned, rolling to the side. She stood quickly, pulling her dress up, looking as if she was having trouble making her legs cooperate. My body pulsed painfully with unspent lust. God, I wanted her. She made a concerted effort to appear unaffected. "I should get to bed."

My arm shot out and I grabbed her hand before she could run.

"I meant what I said, Kira. There's no reason we have to sleep alone. We could . . . consummate this marriage. You feel what we have between us as much as I do." I gave her my most charming smile, but she looked away and pulled her hand free of mine, the lines of her body tense, her eyes confused and slightly pained.

"Did you tell me that story so this," she moved her hand back and forth between the two of us, "would happen?"

Confusion made me pause. "What story?"

"About the puppy."

"The puppy? What? No." Did she think I had told her about that to manipulate her into kissing me? I pressed my lips together.

She studied me for a moment and then let out a sharp breath. "I told you, Grayson, I'm not interested in that . . . in this." She gestured between her and me once again. "It would only complicate an already complicated situation. This wasn't our deal."

"Deals change all the time." I sat up and brought my leg over the chair and stood up to face her. I took a lock of her hair between my fingers, testing its silky texture, wishing the moon brought out its fiery highlights the way the sun did. But in this light, its fire was shadowed. When I made love to her, I wanted it always to be in light so I could see the flames in her hair, the glow of her emerald eyes. I wanted to see all the ways in which her body proclaimed she was life itself, full of heat and passion. My body throbbed again, still hard at the very thought of making love to her . . . for hours and hours. Or, hell, even just once . . . "It can be temporary, Kira. Just like our marriage."

She blinked at me and brought her hands to her cheeks as if they were warm. I couldn't tell in this light whether that was the case, though, or not. "It wouldn’t work. Just trust me." She turned toward the stone staircase up to the house. I called her name, but she didn't turn around and she didn't look back. I sat back down on the lounge chair, letting out a long, sexually frustrated sigh, trying to figure out what had just happened. I had no idea how to handle my own wife. Women had always come easily to me. Keeping them . . . well, Vanessa had proven that might be a different matter. But Kira and I had already established our relationship would be temporary so, with her, that wasn't an issue. I’d never experienced being turned down for sex, though, especially when I turned on my charm. I wasn't being arrogant—it was just the truth. Did I actually know how to seduce a woman? An unwilling one? How ironic that the first woman I had to work for was my very own wife.

**********

"See you on Monday, Charlotte," I said, leaning forward and kissing her soft cheek. It was Friday morning, and she and Walter were taking a weekend trip to San Francisco to visit friends.

"There are several casseroles in the freezer, with instructions written right on top," she said. "Oh, and I baked a batch of those citrus butter cookies you like. They're in tin foil in—"

"Charlotte," I chuckled, "I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself for the weekend."

She smiled, shaking her head, and pinching my cheek affectionately. "I like taking care of you. Just let me dote. Oh! And please tell Kira I baked her the brown sugar oatmeal cookies she likes. Where is she anyway? I thought she'd come up to the house to say goodbye."

"We were out late last night. She's probably sleeping in," I said, picturing her tangled in her sheets in her little cottage, that glorious hair splayed all—

Charlotte eyed me as if she could read my thoughts. "How are things going with you two now that you're actually married?" She'd wanted to come with us to the ceremony, but I'd told her absolutely no. At the time, I hadn't wanted anything that would make the ceremony more awkward than it already was. Charlotte's presence there would have only served to make us feel more uncomfortable . . . and make me feel guilty. I couldn't deny that.

I sighed. "I don't know. It's hard to say with her. I barely know what she's going to do from moment to moment, much less what she's thinking." Except that she's resisting me, which is most likely why I want her so badly.

"Hmm," she hummed, looking thoughtful. "Yes, not many match that one for spirit, I'll say that. Except maybe you." She winked at me. "I'm glad you two went to dinner last night. It's a good start." She smiled, and before I could address that comment or tell her not to get any grand ideas, she continued, "Tell her to have a nice weekend. Oh! And tell her I got her list about the party. What a splendid idea! I'm not sure what the big rush is, or why she was emailing me at two in the morning, but Walter and I will stop in town this morning and order the invitations—I know a place that will print them right away. I still have Jessica's address label list of who's who in Napa and can email that to the printer once I've had a few minutes to go through it." Kira had been up in the middle of the night? Why? Had she, too, been unable to sleep after what we'd done on the patio? Had she been tossing and turning, remembering the feel of—

"Tell Kira they'll go out in the mail Monday," Charlotte continued, interrupting my thoughts.