Back in Her Husband's Bed

“Damn.”

She spun in her stocking feet to find Nate in the doorway. Annie was topless but didn’t even bother covering herself. She wasn’t the most modest person in the world. She had as many body issues as any woman, but she didn’t waste the energy worrying about them. Besides, he’d already seen it all and touched a lot of it less than an hour ago.

Letting Nate see what she was wearing—or not wearing in this case—under the dress would make him just that much more miserable tonight.

Probably about as miserable as she would be. Nate looked fabulous. He’d upgraded his suit for a tuxedo. Instead of a tie, he wore a collarless ivory shirt with a shiny black button at his throat. He had a matching ivory handkerchief in his lapel pocket. The suit was custom, of that she was certain. He was not average by any means, and the fit was like a glove.

She wanted to press her bare breasts against the cotton of his shirt and knot her fingers into the curls at his neck. Her nipples tightened at the mere thought of scratching against his suit coat. That, however, would sidetrack the entire evening. Nate had to be at the party. He was throwing it.

Feigning disinterest to disguise her growing desire, she turned and walked into the closet. “Ever hear of knocking?” she asked.

“It’s my place. I don’t have to knock.”

Annie knelt to pick up the heels, slipped the dress from the hanger and draped it over her arm. When she returned to the bedroom he was still there, his hands buried in his pockets, his dark gaze silently appreciative of everything he saw.

“Do you like it?” she asked, holding the dress out for him to see. The dress was short, jewel-blue and had a halter collar with tiny silver studs that wrapped around her throat. The reverse was wide open, draping below the small of her back. It was decadent and sexy, a completely unexpected detail, so she didn’t share that with him. She’d let that be a surprise.

“Very much.” His voice was slightly strained. “It matches your eyes.”

Annie draped the dress over the bedspread. She’d thought the same thing when she bought it. “Are you going to watch me dress?”

Nate thought for a moment, his lips puckered in amusement, his eyes still drinking in every inch of her. He let his gaze dart to the curve of her backside peeking out beneath the lacy panties. “No...I just wanted to let you know I was going down to the reception to make sure everything is set up.”

Annie nodded. “I’ll meet you there in a bit.”

Nate eyed his watch. “Shall I order you a drink?”

“A diet soda this time.” Annie smiled. “Thank you.” The last thing she needed was a repeat of the champagne incident.

Nate returned the smile, clearly following her thoughts. His gaze slowly traveled over her once more, then he turned and disappeared down the hall.

Annie had to take a moment to sit on the edge of the bed. He’d looked at her so intently she could almost feel it like a caress. The heat of it traveled over her body, making her breasts ache and her skin tighten. A deep throb of longing echoed in her core, acknowledging the connection between them that she denied. Perhaps tonight was the night.

A half hour later, she was downstairs and heading toward the Sapphire Lounge. The slinky bar was usually packed with tourists and locals alike for mingling and dancing to the sounds of the talented jazz singer and pianist who played there.

Tonight it was reserved for those registered in the tournament and the bigwigs from the sponsors. A quick look around the room confirmed that many of the players had brought their wives. That would cut down on how many of them would ask her to dance. She was relieved.

It was a male-dominated sport, and wives didn’t always follow their men along from game to game. Nate had gone out of his way to schedule several events at this year’s tournament to include them. Tonight was the reception, of course, but over the next week there was also a poker widows’ luncheon and an excursion to Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon. Nate was good with the details.

As Annie stepped into the lounge, she was greeted warmly by several friends. Benny the Shark hollered, “The Barracuda!” and before she knew it, the Captain was clasping her in a musty bear hug and Eli was trying to buy her a drink.

She declined, trying to disentangle herself, but got stuck chitchatting. They were boisterous and loud, going on and on as though they hadn’t all seen each other in Atlantic City a month ago. The Captain was wearing his best Hawaiian shirt—it was a special occasion, after all—but most of the others had forgone their jeans and polo shirts for suits and ties. It was a nice change. She almost didn’t recognize Rodney Chan, he cleaned up so well.