Hannah chose the soft pink dress Riley had given her for Christmas to wear to Cheryl and Steve’s for cards a week later. With a patience she hadn’t expected, Riley had spent the better part of two evenings going over the fundamentals of pinochle with her. She’d never played cards much, but she was willing to learn, and Riley was tolerant with her lack of skill.

"You look… beautiful," he said, coming out of the bedroom. He stopped as though he couldn’t take his eyes off her; but if that was the case, then he shouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her, either. That certainly didn’t seem to be a problem of late. They might as well not be married for all the good it did them. Riley was scheduled to ship out sometime early the following week, and they’d yet to make love.

Not from lack of trying, at least on Hannah’s part.

Sometimes Hannah suspected he was playing a cruel game with her, but if that was the case, he was the one who was suffering.

Not once in the week since she’d moved into his bedroom had they managed to go to bed at the same time. Inevitably Riley came up with some nonsensical excuse to linger several minutes, and oftentimes hours after she was already in bed. Although she tried to wait up for him, she almost always fell asleep.

She found it uncanny that he would know just when she would be sleeping before he’d join her. Only once had he woken her, but when she’d tried to talk to him, he’d pretended to be exhausted, had rolled away from her and gone directly to sleep.

Pretended. Hannah was sure he was as wide-awake as she was.

In every other way, other than the physical aspect of their marriage, he was a model husband. With the exception of the first night she’d moved into his bedroom, they hadn’t so much as cuddled, at least not that Hannah was aware.

"I’m going out to start the car," Riley said, turning away from her. He’d taken to doing that lately – making sure it was warm and cozy inside before he came for her, not wanting to chance her catching a chill.

Hannah had been looking forward to this evening with Cheryl and Steve, even if it did involve playing cards. She was grateful for the friendship of the other Navy wives she’d met through Steve’s wife.

Riley’s hand was on her shoulder as they stood at the front door and rang the Morgans’ doorbell.

"They must be making this a round-robin," he murmured.

"Round robin?" Hannah asked.

"That’s Lenny’s car across the street. And I noticed Floyd’s one block over."

The door opened just then and Cheryl stepped forward, grinning from ear to ear. Standing between them, she took Riley’s arm and then Hannah’s, leading them into the living room.

Pink and blue strands of crepe paper were draped across the ceiling and the table was set with a large lace tablecloth and a pretty bouquet of pink and blue carnations.

"Surprise!" Cheryl cried, laughing and throwing her arms into the air.

Immediately people started popping out from every corner. Four jumped up from behind the davenport. Three came from the kitchen and as many more from the coat closet.

"What’s going on here?" Riley asked, clearly perplexed.

"Don’t you recognize a baby shower when you see one?" Cheryl chided.

"A baby what?" Riley asked again, scratching his head. He looked to Hannah for an explanation.

"It’s a party for the baby," Hannah told him, smiling. She recognized several of the wives and a couple of the husbands.

"Here, ‘ol buddy," Steve said, handing Riley a cold can of soda. "Sit down and we’ll explain everything." Riley cast a dumbfounded look over his shoulder as Steve led him toward the front of the room and sat him down. Next, Riley’s friend escorted Hannah to the second chair and then placed a paper crown from a fast-food restaurant on top of each of their heads.

"I thought only women had parties for babies," Riley muttered under his breath.

"I did, too," she whispered back.

Cheryl dragged out a card table stacked high with gifts.

Hannah couldn’t remember a time when she’d had more fun. Jenny Blackwell, Floyd’s wife, had baked a cake in the shape of a stork delivering the baby and had done an incredible job. It was almost too beautiful to eat. Riley, however, had no such qualms. He sliced off huge pieces and passed them around to his friends, then wolfed down two slices himself.

When it came time to open the gifts, everyone gathered around. Hannah was self-conscious about being the center of attention as she carefully pried away the paper. Each gift touched her heart. There were so many things, big and small, they needed yet for the baby, and it meant so much to her that Riley’s friends would do this for them.

"Is this the gal?" Floyd Blackwell asked, claiming the empty chair beside Riley while the others chatted around them. He had a kind, round face, and a bald spot was beginning to form on the crown of his head.

"Yes," Riley replied stiffly, glancing anxiously toward Hannah.

"I thought it must be." He laughed and took a generous bite of the cake his wife had baked. "I’ll tell you right now," he said to Hannah, "you certainly sent Riley on a merry goose chase. He spent the entire month of August looking for you." He turned to Riley, disregarding the deep scowl. "Did that private detective ever turn up anything?"

"Floyd," Riley prompted meaningfully between clenched teeth, "don’t I hear Jenny calling you?"

"Jenny. Naw, she’s across the room talking to Cheryl. Oh… Oh, right. Yes, well, it was nice meeting you, Hannah," he finished, rushing to his feet.

"What was Floyd talking about?" Hannah asked her husband a few minutes later.

"Nothing. He was just blowing some hot air."

Hannah didn’t believe that for a moment, and was left to ponder Floyd’s words. Had Riley tried to find her after that night? It certainly sounded like it. The knowledge did funny things to her heart. He had cared even then.

It was after eleven by the time they arrived back home. Riley unloaded the gifts from the car while Hannah carried in leftover cake. The night had been such fun, and Hannah had enjoyed every minute of it. Even Riley seemed to be in an extra-good mood.

To Hannah’s way of thinking, the time to strike was while the iron was hot, an old client she’d often heard her father use.

While she was in changing for bed, Riley sat out in the living room, reading the newspaper.

He didn’t look up when she entered the room, and she noticed that he’d brewed himself a cup of coffee as though he intended to stay up a while longer. His hand held a pen as if he planned on working through the crossword puzzle.

She was determined to see that that didn’t happen.

"Riley, come to bed."

"I will in a few minutes," he replied, studying the paper, still not glancing toward her.

"Not tonight."

"I beg your pardon." He looked up, and Hannah could have kissed him for the reaction he gave. She’d combed her hair, spreading it across her shoulders like a giant fan. The peach silk gown clung to her, and she reached for its satin tie, releasing the front.

"It’s time to come to bed. Now," she said, holding her hand out to him.

Chapter Twelve

Riley‘s heart sank all the way to the soles of his feet. Never in all his life had he seen a woman more beautiful than Hannah in this silky peach gown, her thick shiny hair as rich looking as velvet.

His heart rebounded just enough for him to breathe. Just enough for the overwhelming physical attraction to bombard his stomach. Nothing seemed real anymore. He felt as though he were sitting in a thick fog, a haze of remorse. Riley had the feeling that if he were to find the strength to stand, he’d crumple to the carpet like a rag doll.

"Hannah," he managed to say, although his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, "what is this?"

"You mean you don’t know?"

The hell if Riley knew how someone so innocent in the ways of seduction could be so damned provocative. She sashayed toward him, swaying her hips with the right amount of allure. A stripteaser couldn’t have walked as enticingly; Riley was convinced of that. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, feasting on the outline of her swollen breasts and the way the silk seemed to wrap its way around her thighs. His thoughts were in a muddle as he scrambled for some excuse, something to say or do that would help him to gently turn her away.

"It’s time for bed," she announced, her smile so sweet it was all he could do not to go into a deep trance just looking at her.

He sat numb, unable to move or think. "I… ah… I’m not quite ready yet. You go on ahead without me."

"Not tonight, Riley." She continued smiling down on him as she removed the pen from his lifeless fingers and tugged the newspaper free from his grasp. Like a man lost in a stupor, he allowed her to do both without offering the least bit of resistance.

She hesitated when he didn’t rise from the recliner and mindlessly follow her into the bedroom. It seemed to take her a few seconds to regroup, but she did so with amazing dexterity. She smiled once again and nestled herself into his lap with a childlike eagerness. Only there wasn’t anything childish about the look in her eyes, or the captivating way the corners of her mouth tilted upward.

Her gaze continued to hold his as her fingers expertly unfastened the buttons of his shirt. She wasn’t satisfied until she had peeled it open and could press her hands fully against his heaving chest. At the feel of her fingers against him, Riley’s breath escaped on a ragged sigh. Encouraged by her success, she sighed, too, and her smile deepened.

"Hannah… I don’t think…" He didn’t finish. His wife bent forward and pressed her soft, sweet mouth against the side of his neck. Her touch – velvet gentle, satin smooth – went through him like a hunting knife. Her breath was as hot as fire. Hotter than a raging inferno. Using the moist tip of her tongue, she seared a trail of moist kisses against his throat.

Riley’s head fell back and he closed his eyes.

Despite his pleading, Hannah continued to work her mouth across his face. She paused at his earlobe, taking it into her mouth and sucking lightly, flickering her tongue around the outer edges and gently probing inside. Riley moaned, willing his hands not to touch her, clenching them into tight fists at his sides. The minute he experienced for himself her incredible softness, he’d be lost, and he knew it.

Her splayed fingers slid upward until they’d linked at his nape. Slowly she released his ear, continuing her journey downward, sliding her tongue over the muscular cords of his neck, pausing at the hollow of his throat. Unexpectedly she paused, altering the course of her lips, moving upward, along the underside of his chin and the sharp angles of his jaw, journeying toward his mouth.

"Hannah…oh, God…no." His hands locked around her wrists, his grip viselike. He pushed her away from him and held her there. His eyes burned into hers while his chest heaved with the overwhelming effort of resisting her.

"Yes," she countered softly, apparently not understanding. She was soft and warm and so beautiful. Every part of him throbbed with the need to give her what she was asking for. Come morning, however, he would regret it. Riley knew it as surely as he knew he loved her. He was protecting her, protecting their child.