of her own volition. He'd left the door open and a lamp on at one end of the massive bedroom.
He didn't want to be subtle. He wanted to have some of the greatest sex he'd ever had in his life. Again.
But she hadn't approached him. Their contract had stipulated that they could continue to live largely separate lives, so she went to school and he went to work. The few meals they shared were quietly miserable.
She seemed ashamed and that made Michaela's theory seem even more valid.
Rolling over in bed, Cameron punched his pillow and lay back down, determined to sleep. But he knew it was going to be another long, lonely night.
And in a brief, petty moment, he wondered why the woman he'd had the most incredible sex of his life with couldn't be going through the same total hell he was experiencing.
* * *
She was. Oh, she was.
Michaela glared at the luminous numbers on the clock by her bed—4:18 a.m.
Four-eighteen in the morning and all she could think of was Cameron.
This whole thing was getting out of control. She'd resolved, after that one session of pseudo counseling in his office, that she was never, ever, ever going to do anything as dumb again. L'affaire de Freud had joined L'affaire de le Stoopid, they were both right up there at the top of life's most regrettable moments.
He'd called her at her office one more time about Nancy. And Michaela had absolved part of her guilt by telling him to take time, be tender with her, buy her little presents and delight her, listen to her worries and her thoughts about school.
To even take her away for a romantic weekend. Paris. Rome. London.
To simply be there for her.
Hell, by the time they finally got back into bed with each other, they'd probably be in love. And the power of suggestion was a wonderful thing. Cameron would almost certainly think he was having wonderful sex, he'd be so worked up after almost a month of celibacy.
And that would be that. And she would quietly quit the law firm, enter a convent and get on with her life...
She rolled over in bed, disturbing both Gomez and Morticia, then punched her pillow and lay back down among the covers, determined to sleep.
Instead, she watched the sun rise.
* * *
''You look terrible, Mike.''
"I don't feel so good."
They were sitting in a little French bistro having lunch. Michaela had just completed another complicated contract for Teddy's Toys and Cameron had insisted on taking her out to lunch.
He seemed all smiles today. Michaela could guess the reason.
Nancy's fertile period was coming up. Within days. And Cameron looked like life was treating him very well, indeed.
He looked heartbreakingly beautiful to her on that Thursday afternoon. They were sitting by the large front window of the restaurant. Bright spring sunshine made his dark hair shine. His brilliant blue eyes seemed so alive. Her fingers ached to touch the slight cleft in his chin.
They'd just finished their soup when he confided in her.
"Your advice made a great deal of difference. I think Nancy is enjoying our arrangement a lot more these days."
This is my penance for what I've done, Michaela thought. To listen to Cameron and realize how happy he is with Nancy. And that's as it should be, for she can give him a child.
Her father had raised her within the strictures of the Catholic church, thus guilt was her constant companion.
But if their relationship was going well, then that was what was important, wasn't it? She'd stumbled and fallen once, gotten back up and dusted herself off. Surely she could forgive herself. They could all move forward from this time. She would never confide in anyone about what had actually happened.
She'd thought of going to confession during one of her blacker moments but realized the priest would probably have a coronary. Besides, she knew him, he knew his congregation, and she had no desire to share this particular sexual fiasco with anyone.
A chicken dish followed the soup, then an exquisite
He didn't want to be subtle. He wanted to have some of the greatest sex he'd ever had in his life. Again.
But she hadn't approached him. Their contract had stipulated that they could continue to live largely separate lives, so she went to school and he went to work. The few meals they shared were quietly miserable.
She seemed ashamed and that made Michaela's theory seem even more valid.
Rolling over in bed, Cameron punched his pillow and lay back down, determined to sleep. But he knew it was going to be another long, lonely night.
And in a brief, petty moment, he wondered why the woman he'd had the most incredible sex of his life with couldn't be going through the same total hell he was experiencing.
* * *
She was. Oh, she was.
Michaela glared at the luminous numbers on the clock by her bed—4:18 a.m.
Four-eighteen in the morning and all she could think of was Cameron.
This whole thing was getting out of control. She'd resolved, after that one session of pseudo counseling in his office, that she was never, ever, ever going to do anything as dumb again. L'affaire de Freud had joined L'affaire de le Stoopid, they were both right up there at the top of life's most regrettable moments.
He'd called her at her office one more time about Nancy. And Michaela had absolved part of her guilt by telling him to take time, be tender with her, buy her little presents and delight her, listen to her worries and her thoughts about school.
To even take her away for a romantic weekend. Paris. Rome. London.
To simply be there for her.
Hell, by the time they finally got back into bed with each other, they'd probably be in love. And the power of suggestion was a wonderful thing. Cameron would almost certainly think he was having wonderful sex, he'd be so worked up after almost a month of celibacy.
And that would be that. And she would quietly quit the law firm, enter a convent and get on with her life...
She rolled over in bed, disturbing both Gomez and Morticia, then punched her pillow and lay back down among the covers, determined to sleep.
Instead, she watched the sun rise.
* * *
''You look terrible, Mike.''
"I don't feel so good."
They were sitting in a little French bistro having lunch. Michaela had just completed another complicated contract for Teddy's Toys and Cameron had insisted on taking her out to lunch.
He seemed all smiles today. Michaela could guess the reason.
Nancy's fertile period was coming up. Within days. And Cameron looked like life was treating him very well, indeed.
He looked heartbreakingly beautiful to her on that Thursday afternoon. They were sitting by the large front window of the restaurant. Bright spring sunshine made his dark hair shine. His brilliant blue eyes seemed so alive. Her fingers ached to touch the slight cleft in his chin.
They'd just finished their soup when he confided in her.
"Your advice made a great deal of difference. I think Nancy is enjoying our arrangement a lot more these days."
This is my penance for what I've done, Michaela thought. To listen to Cameron and realize how happy he is with Nancy. And that's as it should be, for she can give him a child.
Her father had raised her within the strictures of the Catholic church, thus guilt was her constant companion.
But if their relationship was going well, then that was what was important, wasn't it? She'd stumbled and fallen once, gotten back up and dusted herself off. Surely she could forgive herself. They could all move forward from this time. She would never confide in anyone about what had actually happened.
She'd thought of going to confession during one of her blacker moments but realized the priest would probably have a coronary. Besides, she knew him, he knew his congregation, and she had no desire to share this particular sexual fiasco with anyone.
A chicken dish followed the soup, then an exquisite
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