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"What is going on in here?"
"We're taking a bath."
"You're making a mess."
"It's Trent's fault. He's a splasher."
"And who taught him how to splash?"
From the door of the bathroom Jenny smiled at her husband and son, who were both in the bathtub. Seven-month-old Trent was sitting in the crook of his father's lap, his back against Cage's thighs, his chubby feet on Cage's stomach.
"Is he getting clean?"
"Who, Trent? Sure. He's positively squeaky."
Jenny moved into the room and knelt down at the side of the bathtub. Trent, recognizing his mother, smiled droolingly, proudly showing off his two front teeth. He pointed at her and cooed.
"My sentiments exactly, son," Cage said. "She's a knock out, isn't she?"
"She's going to be knocking heads together if you don't get out and mop up this water." Jenny tried to sound stern, but she was laughing as she bent down and lifted Trent from the tub. When she raised him up, she saw the pinkish scar on Cage's abdomen. It never failed to sober her, at least long enough to wing a prayer of thanksgiving heavenward.
"Watch him, he's as slippery as an eel," Cage said, emerging from the bath. Water streamed down his hard, lean body. Jenny had come to learn that he was completely immodest, a trait she relished.
"How well I know." Jenny was trying to hold on to her squirming son while she wrapped a towel around him. She had given up on keeping herself dry. Trent's sturdy little body had already dampened the front of her robe.
She carried the baby into his nursery, which was across the wide hall from the master suite. She had converted one of the bedrooms of the old house into a picture-book nursery for him. Following her instructions, Cage had done most of the actual labor on weekends. They were well pleased with the results.
She was so adroit at handling her wriggling son that by the time Cage joined them, dried and wrapped in a terry robe, Trent was diaper and pajama clad.
"Tell Daddy good night." Jenny held Trent up to receive Cage's kiss. Cage took him from her, hugged him close, and kissed him soundly on the cheek.
"Good night, son. I love you." He hugged the baby to him while Jenny gazed on lovingly. Trent was tired. His head, with its cluster of dusty blond ringlets, dropped onto Cage's shoulder and he yawned broadly.
"He was ready for bed," Jenny said later as they crossed the hall into their own bedroom after seeing that Trent was safely tucked in. "And so am I." She spread her arms out to her sides and fell backward onto the bed. "The two of you wear me out."
"Oh, yeah?" Cage's eyes roamed over her reclining form, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, which dangled just above the floor. Her robe had fallen open, revealing a beguiling length of smooth, tan thigh. Her breasts looked both wanton and vulnerable with her arms widespread. Without compunction he unknotted the belt of his robe, shrugged it off, let it slide soundlessly to the carpeted floor, and lay down on top of her. His knees wedged hers apart.
"You've got to overcome your shyness, Cage."
"Smart ass." He chuckled as his lips toyed with her ear. She had bathed just before him and Trent, and her skin was warm and fragrant. Beneath the robe she was wearing nothing but a rosy glow. "Why fool around with preliminaries? I believe in going after what I want."
"And you want me?"
"Hm." He pecked innocent kisses on her neck. "I always have. The longest two months of my life were those after Trent was born."
"Don't forget the weeks before he was born."
"I haven't forgotten," he snarled. "I still say that doctor put the restriction on us earlier than necessary. He was getting back at me for something."
"What?"
"Nothing."
She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled on it until he raised his head. "What?"
"Ouch!"