to win his woman back. If he did things right, he’d have her for keeps.
Almost giddy with relief, he started his car and pulled away from the curb. Just you wait, Dr. Khan. You aren’t going to know what hit you.
“Mason?”
Leyla walked into the darkened living room, stumbling over a toy on the ground. When they’d bought this house the week before their marriage, the three bedroom had seemed spacious enough. Less than ten months later, Ash had arrived, bringing a whole bunch of stuff with her. The stuffed duck gave a little jingle as she picked it up and tossed it into the playpen/aka Fisher-Price holding cell.
“Hmmm.”
She moved closer to the couch. “Dishes are done, leftovers put away.” Leyla happily took the kitchen cleanup duties, since it meant Mason handled the cooking. Cooking, her nemesis. “That was a wonderful dinner.”
“Thanks.”
“I feel better after having seen Sasha looking so good, don’t you?” It was like a massive weight had been lifted off her shoulders. From the minute she’d gotten that horrible phone call from Mason, she’d spent the last week worrying over her brother and his injury. Seeing Sasha walking and talking and being himself, even if that meant occasional acts of boneheadedness, relieved her.
Her husband took a swallow from the highball glass he held. “Yeah.”
She cocked her head. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”
“In a minute.”
Relief made her giddy and giddiness made her naughty. Leaning over the back of the couch, she touched her lips to his ear. “I could make it worth your while.”
It always gave her ego a little boost that she could still tempt her husband after two decades of friendship, three years of marriage, and one child. And he was most definitely tempted. She could tell by the slight tightening of his muscles, the inhale of breath.
Normally, he would have tumbled her down onto the sofa with him. Now, though, he remained seated. “I’ll finish my drink first.”
She considered the amber liquid in the glass. “What are you drinking?”
“Whiskey.”
Another oddity. Mason rarely had anything stronger than beer. “Since when do you drink whiskey?”
He considered the glass and then downed the whole thing. “Since I found it in the cupboard.”
“It’s probably from our Christmas party last year. You said it tastes like medicine.”
“It’s not bad. Maybe my tastes are maturing. I am thirty now.”
“And I’m thirty-four,” she said dryly. “Does that mean I need to start drinking hot toddies?”
Instead of laughing, he rested the glass on his knee and stared moodily out the window. “Maybe I’m having a mid-life crisis.”
She frowned. It wasn’t that Mason never sulked or brooded. It was just that it happened so rarely, and she usually had a pretty good inkling of when it would happen. He was sunny by nature, and his easygoing personality helped make their life together…well, easy.
He was under a ton of stress, though, Leyla realized with a pang of regret. As much as she had worried over her brother, he’d had to worry about Sasha in addition to the other patients. “Do you want to talk about anything, Mason?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
This time, he didn’t respond, only grunted. Leyla bit the inside of her cheek. Mason had a tough time concealing anything. It wouldn’t take long to get him to talk.
She straightened and smoothed her hands along his shoulders, beginning a slow massage of taut muscles. Her fingers slipped over the broad planes, the flesh tight and hot under her palms. Amusement vanished. His shoulders were rock hard. She hadn’t realized how tense he was until she laid her hands on him. Poor guy.
She concentrated on working the kinks out of his neck and back, stopping only when he reached behind him, grabbed her hand and drew her around the couch. She slipped easily into his lap, his arm loosely encircling her waist. No one told you about these little bonuses that came
Almost giddy with relief, he started his car and pulled away from the curb. Just you wait, Dr. Khan. You aren’t going to know what hit you.
“Mason?”
Leyla walked into the darkened living room, stumbling over a toy on the ground. When they’d bought this house the week before their marriage, the three bedroom had seemed spacious enough. Less than ten months later, Ash had arrived, bringing a whole bunch of stuff with her. The stuffed duck gave a little jingle as she picked it up and tossed it into the playpen/aka Fisher-Price holding cell.
“Hmmm.”
She moved closer to the couch. “Dishes are done, leftovers put away.” Leyla happily took the kitchen cleanup duties, since it meant Mason handled the cooking. Cooking, her nemesis. “That was a wonderful dinner.”
“Thanks.”
“I feel better after having seen Sasha looking so good, don’t you?” It was like a massive weight had been lifted off her shoulders. From the minute she’d gotten that horrible phone call from Mason, she’d spent the last week worrying over her brother and his injury. Seeing Sasha walking and talking and being himself, even if that meant occasional acts of boneheadedness, relieved her.
Her husband took a swallow from the highball glass he held. “Yeah.”
She cocked her head. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”
“In a minute.”
Relief made her giddy and giddiness made her naughty. Leaning over the back of the couch, she touched her lips to his ear. “I could make it worth your while.”
It always gave her ego a little boost that she could still tempt her husband after two decades of friendship, three years of marriage, and one child. And he was most definitely tempted. She could tell by the slight tightening of his muscles, the inhale of breath.
Normally, he would have tumbled her down onto the sofa with him. Now, though, he remained seated. “I’ll finish my drink first.”
She considered the amber liquid in the glass. “What are you drinking?”
“Whiskey.”
Another oddity. Mason rarely had anything stronger than beer. “Since when do you drink whiskey?”
He considered the glass and then downed the whole thing. “Since I found it in the cupboard.”
“It’s probably from our Christmas party last year. You said it tastes like medicine.”
“It’s not bad. Maybe my tastes are maturing. I am thirty now.”
“And I’m thirty-four,” she said dryly. “Does that mean I need to start drinking hot toddies?”
Instead of laughing, he rested the glass on his knee and stared moodily out the window. “Maybe I’m having a mid-life crisis.”
She frowned. It wasn’t that Mason never sulked or brooded. It was just that it happened so rarely, and she usually had a pretty good inkling of when it would happen. He was sunny by nature, and his easygoing personality helped make their life together…well, easy.
He was under a ton of stress, though, Leyla realized with a pang of regret. As much as she had worried over her brother, he’d had to worry about Sasha in addition to the other patients. “Do you want to talk about anything, Mason?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
This time, he didn’t respond, only grunted. Leyla bit the inside of her cheek. Mason had a tough time concealing anything. It wouldn’t take long to get him to talk.
She straightened and smoothed her hands along his shoulders, beginning a slow massage of taut muscles. Her fingers slipped over the broad planes, the flesh tight and hot under her palms. Amusement vanished. His shoulders were rock hard. She hadn’t realized how tense he was until she laid her hands on him. Poor guy.
She concentrated on working the kinks out of his neck and back, stopping only when he reached behind him, grabbed her hand and drew her around the couch. She slipped easily into his lap, his arm loosely encircling her waist. No one told you about these little bonuses that came
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