Tempest in Eden

She gave him a teasing smile. "Please feel free to revive your memory."

His lips were firm and surprisingly warm considering he'd just come in from outside. They parted gently and hers responded, following suit. For a moment they held there, motionless save for the breath that wafted between them. His fingers moved lovingly down her stomach, cupping the place where his child grew in her body.

She felt him shudder as love swept through him. He uttered a low, gratified moan at the instant his tongue entered her mouth in a gentle violation. A welcome marauder, it probed and stroked, rapidly one moment, slowly the next, in ever-changing tempos that captivated her senses.

"Let's go to bed," he said, when at last he sacrificed the nectar of her mouth for the warm, scented skin of her neck.

"What about dinner?" she queried weakly.

"Later."

He carried her up the stairs, their eyes telegraphing a thousand messages of love. They undressed each other with a titillating leisure, watching each other, devouring each other with hungry eyes. Climbing beneath the covers from opposite sides of the bed, they met in the middle.

"Hold me," Shay pleaded, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Hold me."

Their hearts pulsed together, no longer separate but two parts of a whole. His head sheltered hers beneath his chin. From shoulder to toes they touched.

"I behaved just like the stupid, narrow-minded prude you once accused me of being," he confessed. "Why didn't you sock me in the gut the way you did the first time?"

"Don't think I wasn't tempted," she said, smiling and loving the feel of his chest hair against her lips. "I didn't think it through, Ian, or I never would have suggested I pose for Zavala."

"No, no. You were totally justified in wanting to do the job. I should have shared your excitement. I'm proud of your body. Why shouldn't I be elated at the thought of your beauty being exhibited? I was a jackass. I acted just the way I counsel headstrong, possessive husbands not to act. I've always been a proponent of equality in marriage, but when it came to my own, I didn't practice what I preached."

She snuggled closer. "After I got to the studio, I didn't want the job. Your disapproval had taken the joy out of it."

"See?" he exclaimed in self-flagellation. "That's what I mean. I feel like I've cheated you out of something important."

She raised her head to look at him. "You haven't, Ian. I don't want anything in my life that we can't share. Besides, Zavala was a jerk. He cursed me, his camera, his lights, his assistants. He pouted, paced, smoked about six joints, hit—"

Ian bolted upright, his eyes blazing and nostrils flaring. "Joints! Hit? Hit what?"

"Calm down," she said, ruffling his hair affectionately and enjoying his show of temper because it was in her defense. "Hit the wall with his fist. That kind of nonsense I can live without. I told you before that I was particular." She pulled him back down on the pillow, though she kept her hands entwined in his hair. The black strands coiled around her fingers like silk.

"You're not going to retire completely, are you? From this end it sounded like your agent mentioned another job to you."

"Well, yes," she hedged, not sure how he'd take her news.

"Tell me."

"Life magazine is looking for a pregnant lady their cameras can follow through the early stages right up to the day of birth. A medical team will assist with the photography. They want a pictorial document of the pregnancy, growth of the fetus, and the birth."

"You mean my son will be in Life?" Ian beamed.

"So it's okay for your son to be photographed in the nude, but not your wife! And who said it was a son?"

He laughed and hugged her to him. "I rather like the idea of both of you being celebrities. I'd like to talk to the people in charge of the project. I don't want you endangered under any circumstances."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. This should be a family project or not at all."

"I'll never be so uncompromising again, Shay. I swear it. You said you couldn't be stifled. I don't intend to try."

"And I'll never act like a headstrong, spoiled brat again either. I want your opinion on everything I do." She laid her cheek on the hair-roughened skin of his chest. "You were right about me, Ian, from the very beginning. I was playing a role. I wanted to appear flippant and uncaring because I was insecure about the person I really am. My father wanted me to be a rebel. He had a devilish bent that loved for me to pull a prank. He actually encouraged my outrageousness. My mother wanted me to be a lady. She always disapproved of my behavior.

"I was trapped somewhere in between, but it was easier to be naughty and please my father than to be nice and please my mother. I never felt like a real person, but two parts constantly warring with each other. It took your love to bring out the real me."

"I love all the facets of you. I've told you that."

"You're generous with your love. As far as working again, I'm not making any plans. The baby may change my figure completely." Idly she feathered her hand back and forth across the curve of his buttocks. "Besides, I'll have plenty to keep me busy around here with you, the baby, my job in the afternoons at the boutique, and the church."