The breath is trapped between my ribs. I can’t draw in enough air to make my lungs work. There’s something about Gregor Malan. His face is not Gabriel’s and his walk is different, but he has a limp, albeit slight, and his build is the same. Everything about him screams Gabriel. If Gabriel himself didn’t tell me he couldn’t risk more plastic surgery, I would’ve bet my life the man who bumped into me is my husband. Either that or the angels had pity on me and sent me a lookalike to relieve the burning pain always present in my chest. Only, no substitute will ever do. If I can’t have Gabriel, I don’t want anyone. My love for him is too complete. Too perfect. I guess he finally broke me. Ruined me. For everyone but him. Yes, I’m damaged beyond repair, the broken toy destined for the garbage dump, but I’m his toy, and broken or not, he will take me back. As soon as I can find him.

“Everything all right?” Kris asks when we get back to her and Charlie.

My smile is automatic. “Fine.”

“We’ll put the stuff in the car,” Rhett says. “Come on, Charlie, give us a hand.”

The men walk off with our shopping and Connor, considerately leaving Kris and I alone.

“Out with it,” she says, pulling me down in the chair next to her. “I know that look.”

“What look?”

“You’re brooding.”

I clutch my hands together. “I just saw someone who reminded me a lot of Gabriel.”

Caution flickers in her gaze. “Val, don’t go looking for him in another man, because you’ll only end up disappointed. No two people are the same.”

“Exactly. I can’t be with anyone but him.”

She cups my hand. “It’s only been ten months. Give it time. Someone else will come along.”

“My mind feels screwed up. The things Gabriel did to me, I hated him for them, and now I crave the pain that brought me pleasure. What other man in his right mind will understand what I need?” I rub a finger over my amputated thumb. “My body is mutilated and my stomach scarred with the stretch marks of his baby. Don’t you see, Kris? I’m damaged in every possible way. No one else can ever want me. Gabriel was my monster, and he made me imperfect and broken in his image. We’re perfect for each other.”

“Don’t talk like this.” She pats my hand. “You fell in love with him. It’s natural for you to feel this strongly about him, even if what he did was wrong.”

“I didn’t fall in love with him. I’m addicted to him, but if––when––I find him, I’m planning on falling head over heels for him like I couldn’t the first time. This time, there’ll be no holding back.”

“Oh, Val.” Her look is concerned. “You need to see a psychologist who can prescribe antidepressants to help you cope. There’s no shame in relying on medication. You don’t have to get through this on strength and willpower alone.”

“I don’t need a doctor.” I push out my chin. “What I need is a date.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want anyone else.”

“I don’t.”

Her eyebrows pinch together. “I don’t understand.”

“I need a date with the man I met here.”

“No, no, no. You’re not going on a witch-hunt for a Gabriel incarnation. That’s just plain unhealthy.”

“Told you I’m damaged. There’s not a healthy thought left in my head.”

“I don’t know what you see when you look at yourself, but I see a beautiful, strong, generous, and loving woman, a woman who’ll unselfishly do anything for her brother and child.”

Quincy calls from across the field. “Val, let’s go.”

I give Kris a quick hug. “You’re a good friend. Have I told you how much I appreciate you?”

“All the time.”

Quincy comes jogging toward us. “I changed Connor’s diaper and gave him his bottle, but he’s starting to complain.”

“It’s his nap time. He must be tired.” I get to my feet. “Thanks for meeting us, Kris.”

“See you Saturday?”

“Sure. Come over for dinner and a board game in the week.”

Walking back to the car, my step is lighter than what it has been in ten months as a plan takes shape in my head.

* * *

Tracking Mr. Malan is easy. From what I can find on the internet, he runs a one-man, obscure insurance company specializing in high-valued gemstones. It’s a risky business, but with only a handful of topnotch clients such as De Beers and Anglo American he must be making a good living. According to his social media profile, he grew up in central South Africa, near Kimberley, which, on paper, explains his connection to the diamond industry. I have my doubts about the bland and straight-lined history mapped out on my computer screen. Mr. Malan obtained a business degree from the University of Bloemfontein, after which he ran a small jewelry manufacturing business that dissolved with the owner’s death, hence his new project. There’s only one way to find out if my suspicion is founded.

Closing the office door for privacy, I balance Connor on my lap and dial the number listed for Dimension Insurance.

He answers with a short-breathed, “Yes?”

Everything about that voice makes me go still inside. The way the deep baritone vibrates through my body sends sparks to my nerve endings. Every follicle contracts. Every hair stands erect.

“Hello?”

I jerk back to life. “It’s Valentina Louw. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

The pause on the other end of the line lasts only a millisecond, but it’s enough to notice. “No. I was just working out.”

I can hear the uncertainty, the questions, and the hunger in his voice. We’re too much in tune, the nuances too clear for me to imagine them all. “I can call back later.”

“That won’t be necessary. What can I do for you?”

“I looked you up on the internet.”

He utters a dry chuckle. “I gathered.” More caution. “Why?”

“You run an insurance company.”

“That’s right.”

It sounds as if he’s opening the fridge. A can pops. The sound is followed by soft swallowing. My imagination does wicked things to me, putting images in my mind of Gabriel leaning against the counter, drinking beer. His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows. All the while he watches me with the sexual intent that tells me he’s going to bend me over the counter and take what he wants, but not without giving me what I crave, first.

“Mrs. Louw?” I swear there’s a cocky grin behind the carefulness in his tone.

I fan myself with a piece of paper from my desk. “I have business for you.”

“What kind of business?”

“Diamonds. I prefer we meet to discuss this in person rather than over the phone.”

“I…” His sigh is filled with regret. “I’m not the right man for the job.”

His words can’t be further from the truth. “I’ll be the judge of that. Tomorrow, four o’clock?” I close my eyes and hold my breath.

“I work from home.” He makes it sound like a protest.

“Not a problem. I have your address.”

“Of course you do.” This time, he sounds downright amused, but then his tone changes, again. “Mrs. Louw, I––”

“See you at four tomorrow, then.”

I hang up before he has time to conjure a reason why I shouldn’t knock on his door. If Gregor is Gabriel, I plan to expose him. He better be ready. I’ll barge through his door like he once did through mine, swinging a weapon much more powerful than a gun.

* * *

All through the next day, I have a lump of concrete in my stomach. Since we’re fumigating the office, we have to close early––the perfect excuse to go home and get ready. While Connor naps, I shower and change. My hands shake when I apply make-up and dry my hair. Even the weather plays along for ambience with a powerful thunderstorm, probably one of the last before the dry winter spell. The thunder wakes Connor. I feed and change him, and get in some quality cuddle time. At three-thirty, I button up my trench coat and grab an umbrella. Connor should be good for a couple of hours. Carrying him downstairs, I go in search of the guys and find them playing poker in the kitchen.

Rhett gives a wolf whistle when he sees me. “Wow. You cleaned up nicely.”

“It’s only make-up.” I shift Connor to the other hip, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Have I gone overboard?

“Pre–pretty.”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

Quincy’s gaze runs over me. “Stockings and heels? I didn’t know we’re going out.”

“Ou–out.” Charlie looks at the window where thunder lights up the sky. “It’s rai–raining.”

“We’re not going out. I am.”

“Uh-uh.” Quincy pulls his mouth in an obstinate line. “You’re not going anywhere without one of us.” He pushes back his chair. “I’ll come.”

“You can’t come.”

He gives me a baffled look. “Why not?”

“I’m going out.”

Rhett stops stuffing his mouth with potato chips to look at me. “Out as in on a date?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

“Oh. Wow. Yes. Okay.” Quincy and Rhett exchange a look. “Great.”

“That’s cool.” Rhett says. “I’ll drive you.”

“Rhett.” I lift my brow.

“What?”

“I’m not going to relax knowing you’re sitting outside in the car.”

He scrunches his forehead and rubs his lips together, as if he’s thinking. “It’s dangerous, out there.”

“You taught me how to handle myself, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but––”

“Don’t you have confidence in my ability to defend myself?”

“You’re mean with those tiny fists and a gun, but…” He rubs the back of his head. “I don’t know.”

“I appreciate how well you’re looking after me, guys, really I do, but if you want me to go out and meet people, you’ve got to give me a bit of freedom.”

“She’s right,” Quincy says on a sigh. “We can’t chaperone her on a date.”

“I’ll be out a couple of hours, max.”

“All right.” Rhett seems simultaneously happy and uncomfortable with the words. “Call us if you’re running late.”

“Do you mind watching Connor? I would’ve asked Kris, but she’s working.”

“Of course not.” Quincy holds out his hands. “Come here, big guy. Uncle Charlie is going to teach you how to play poker, and Uncle Quincy is going to teach you how to win.”

“Be careful on the road with the rain,” Rhett says, his expression worried.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for Connor.”

“Don’t mention it.” Quincy winks. “Go on. Have fun.”

“There’s a bottle in the fridge if Connor gets hungry before I’m back. If he gets difficult, call me.”

“We know how to handle a baby.” Quincy balances Connor on his knee and shoos me away with one hand. “Off you go.”

“You guys are the best. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“You’re making me all emotional now,” Rhett complains.

“Later, Charlie.” I blow him a kiss and leave before my nerves fail me.

On the drive to Gregor’s place, I contemplate the outcome. If he’s not Gabriel, he may not appreciate my approach, but I’m certain it’s him. I can’t help but feel sure of myself.

Gregor’s house is in a neat, raw-brick security complex. I have to sign in at the gate, and the guard has to call his unit for permission to let me through, which warns him of my arrival. Gregor may still refuse me, but after talking on the intercom system, the guard pushes a button that lifts the boom.

As I take the long driveway up to his house, the electronic gates open. I drive in and park in front of the garage. The front door opens before I’m out of the car. Gabriel––Gregor––stands in the frame, dressed in dark slacks and a fitted shirt. The sight of him takes my breath away. This new model of Gabriel has a shorter beard and hair, but the color is the same. His face is strikingly handsome, throwing me somewhat off kilter and adding the spark that fuels my doubt. Beneath the clothes, I can guess the lines that define his muscles.

His stance is casual, but his shoulders are tense. He watches my approach with a boredom that’s feigned, because his eyes miss nothing. They look at me in the way Gabriel first looked at me in Napoli’s and the way he did when he broke into my flat. Like that first time, he tears open my soul and looks right through me, but there is one difference. The roles are reversed. This time, I’m coming to him as the hunter, and he’s the vulnerable prey.

He doesn’t speak until I’m right in front of him. “Mrs. Louw.”

“Mr. Malan.”

His green eyes scrutinize me. The color is disconcerting, not the iced blue I’m looking for, but he’s wearing contact lenses.

“I think this is a mistake. Whatever you think my company––”

I climb onto the step, putting my body flush against his. “I’ll have a glass of water, please.”

The sharp intake of his breath is all I get before he backs away, giving me clear entry into his house. Prowling around, I take in his domain. The lounge, dining room, and kitchen are open-plan. The space is furnished with nothing but a reclining leather chair and a fridge.

He regards me from hooded eyes as he walks to the fridge and retrieves a bottle of mineral water. Taking a glass from the cupboard, he pours the water and hands it to me.

“Thank you.” I make sure our fingers brush when I take the glass.

His eyelashes flutter. “About your business––”

“So, you’re from Bloemfontein.”

His eyes narrow, and his lips twitch. He doesn’t like it when I defy him by interrupting and controlling the conversation, but he lets it slide.

“What else did you read about me?”

I take a sip of the water. “Everything I could find.”

For a second his gaze fixes on my lips as I drink, but then he drags it away.

“How about you, Mr. Malan? Did you read everything about me?”

“I didn’t have to.”

I take another sip. “How so?”

“You’re a known figure in this town.”

“I am?”

He walks around the island counter, stopping short of me. “You said you had business. I did my homework, too. Your specialty is high-risk investments. I didn’t see diamonds in your portfolio.”

I lift my left hand and show him my wedding ring. “I’d like to insure this. It’s very valuable to me.”

He stares at it. “I don’t deal in personal insurance. For that, you’ll have to call Auto and General.”

Leaving the glass on the counter, I place my palm on his chest and slide it down his rock-hard stomach to his even harder erection. When I cup his length, he remains motionless, regarding me with expressionless eyes, but his cock twitches in my hand.

“And for this?” I whisper. “Do I have to call someone else for this, too?”

His green eyes darken at my words, but he doesn’t take the bait.

Gently, he removes my hand and puts a step between us. “As there seems to be nothing I can help you with, I think it’s better that you leave.”

“Nothing?” I start to unbutton my coat. “It’s been a long time. Ten months, to be exact.”

A vein pulses in his throat as he follows my actions. “You don’t want to do that, not with a man like me.”

“You wanted to find me. Didn’t you come looking for me at the market?”

His eyes snap back to mine. “What do you mean?”

“Divine intervention. It’s as if we were destined to meet.”

“You don’t believe that, beautiful.”

“My husband used to call me beautiful.”

He blanches a little. “Look, I––”

When my coat falls open, so does his mouth. The words he was going to say drop off the tip of his tongue and dissolve in the thick air between us. Heat burns hot in his eyes as they settle on my attire––sinful pink and black underwear with thigh high, lace-trimmed stockings and killer heels. The bra makes my breasts spill over the cups, and my nipples are visible through the sheer lace. His hands clench at his sides as he looks me up and down. His chest moves rapidly. His nostrils flare. If his cock could get any harder, it just did. The outline is clearly visible under the fabric of his trousers. He swallows and meets my eyes. His are smoldering with desire. He wants me. Crap, if I’m wrong, I’m going to have sex with a stranger in his kitchen.

Please, don’t let me be wrong.

When his hands reach for me, I almost falter, but I have to know, and there’s only one, sure way to discover the truth. One thing a man like Gabriel can’t alter or fake is the way he fucks my body. Strengthening my resolve, I lift my chin and push out my breasts.

His expression twists with raw agony. Grabbing my arms, he turns me toward the door. “Leave. Now.”

I lean back, cushioning his groin with my ass. He offers no resistance when I rub against him. The dip of his knees and the ragged groan that tears from his chest as I drag my ass over his hard-on tells me I won. His reaction makes me confident enough to walk to the island counter and hop onto it. I don’t have to say a word. All I have to do is spread my legs.

He charges like a lion. There’s a growl on his lips when he twists my hair around his fingers and pulls to the side, exposing my neck. Like a predator, he locks his teeth on the soft spot where my neck and shoulder meet. He doesn’t bite down, just holds me in place as he sucks on my skin, marking me. When he lets go, I’m sporting a love bite. Satisfaction washes into his expression when he stares at the mark. Gently, he drags his tongue over it, moaning as he tastes my skin. He runs his nose up the length of my neck to my jaw, inhaling deeply.

Using my hair to keep me in place, he kisses and nips his way down from my ear to my shoulder. Each kiss turns more frantic than the next. He wedges between my legs and lets go of my hair to catch my face. Holding my cheeks between his palms, he plunders my mouth with the pent-up fever of a man who’s been denied for too long. Our tongues tangle as he explores the depth of my mouth and the shape of my lips. He eats me as if I’m his last meal.

I can count the times Gabriel kissed me without total control on one hand. His seductions were well thought out and executed. This man is kissing me without an ounce of constraint, like Gabriel kissed me when I told him I didn’t want Michael. He’s kissing me like Gabriel did the day he married me against my will. I moan into his mouth, my body preparing itself for his possession by growing warm and slick.

He tears his mouth from mine and jerks his shirt from his pants. “Tell me how badly you want this.”

My gaze drops to his pants. “I want to taste you.”

His fingers reach for the buttons of his shirt. One by one, he pops them with shaky hands. “You can have my cock anywhere you want it.”

When the edges of the shirt fall open, he pushes our upper bodies together, skin against skin. It feels familiar. It feels right. He flips down the cups of my bra, letting the curves spill over, and takes a nipple in his mouth. His tongue is heaven and hell. He sucks on the tip, sending a spasm straight to my clit, and then he follows it up with a white-hot arrow of pain when he bites down. A few repetitions and my core is a melted puddle of arousal. He doesn’t let up until he’s given the other breast the same treatment. I’m panting and boneless, unable to support my weight when he lifts his broad hand from the small of my back. With his fingers curled around my neck, he pushes me down on the counter. The touch is dominant and possessive, just like I remember.

I gasp when he pushes the elastic of my panties aside and draws a finger over my slit.

He bends over me and hums his approval against my lips. “So wet.”

When he parts me with one digit, I cry out harder.

“Is this what you want?” He works his finger inside up to the second joint.

“Yes, oh, God.”

“I’m going to give you what you came for.”

The promise is more beautiful than erotic, because what I really came for is him. He doesn’t give me more time to think, because he starts moving his finger at a maddening slow pace. I push up on my elbows to look down at the sight, and he eases the pressure of his palm on my throat to let me. I want to see him claim me. As if sensing my need, he rips off the panties and drops them on the floor, staring intently at the wicked work of his finger.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

My clit tingles when he presses the pad of his thumb on the bundle of nerves. Gathering my wetness, he starts a slow and gentle massage that has my toes curl.

“Stop.” I grab his wrist. “I’m going to come.”

His smile is calculated. “That’s the idea, beautiful.”

“I want you inside me when I come.”

His eyes widen a fraction. His jaw flexes the way Gabriel’s used to when he fought for control. “You will.”

Using the V of his fingers of one hand to open me wider, he adds a second finger to the first. My muscles clench around him.

“Fuck, yes.”

His thumb goes back to my clit while his fingers prepares my channel for his cock. Gabriel is long and thick. This is something he’d do. A few hard thrusts combined with the relentless, circular movements of his thumb and I come with a fierce orgasm, crying out my pleasure. I’m still riding the wave when his mouth is on my pussy, his tongue taking over from his fingers. He feels so good. He knows exactly how I like it. He alternates gentle licks and sucks with nips of his teeth. Like Gabriel trained me, I come again quickly, this time in his mouth. He sucks me through the shockwaves until my body is a quivering mess.

“Good girl,” he praises, planting a kiss on my mound.

I turn even wetter when his hands go for his belt. At the same time my heart throbs in my throat. This is about more than lust. This is about a gamble. The belt falls away. The button of his slacks pops. Thank God for the hasty way he pulls down the zipper, because my nerves can’t handle the suspense. Taking my hands, he pulls me into a sitting position before gripping my hips and lowering me to the ground. He doesn’t have to ask. I go down on my knees, like I did countless times with Gabriel, bringing the elastic of his briefs with me. When his cock jumps free, I sit back on my heels. He’s thick and long with manly veins, the head broad and smooth. I almost cry with relief and thankfulness. He’s exactly like I remember.

He’s Gabriel.

Whether he knows that I know isn’t clear. The moment is too consumed with his need. His desire is the sole focus of his attention as he drags his fingers through my hair and waits. Knowing my history of abuse, Gabriel never pushed himself into my mouth. My soul soars as I cup his balls and pull him closer. When my lips fold around him, I get back the pieces of myself I left in the debris of the explosion. Flicking my tongue over the slit, I lap up the pre-cum he spilled for me, reveling in the taste that is uniquely Gabriel. My heart flutters with joy too powerful to contain as I take him deep. Sucking Gabriel off has always been one of my biggest turn-ons. I love the way he groans when my tongue swirls around his thickness and traces the vein on the underside to his balls. I revel in the way his knees buckle and his hips jerk, knowing I’m the cause of his pleasure. Having him in my mouth is like a homecoming. It’s the truth, the only truth I know. He lets me take him how deep I want, and he doesn’t hold back. He comes quickly and hard, spilling his seed down my throat. I savor every drop, feeling the same interconnectedness I felt during oral sex with Gabriel.

He’s Gabriel.

I stare at him, my soul bursting in wonder, as he rides his pleasure to the end. When his body goes still, he pulls his cock from the suction of my mouth. Without breaking our frantic chase for each other’s pleasure, he grips my arms and drags me to my feet, crushing our mouths together briefly before bending me over the counter.

He positions my arms so I’m stretched out with my fingers touching the edges. “Hold on, beautiful.”

Grabbing the cold granite for leverage, I brace myself, knowing when Gabriel takes me from behind it will be hard. Exactly how I want. His fingers play over my folds, gathering moisture and lubricating me. The broad head of his cock nudges at my opening. He’s already hard again. One hand is guiding his shaft, the other gripping my hip. Seeing that it’s been a while, he enters me slowly, as considerately as only Gabriel can be. After every inch he stops, giving me time to adjust while playing with my clit. By the time he’s fully lodged inside, we’re both panting. I don’t have to tell him I need more. He knows my body inside and out. He knows my needs better than I know them myself.

When he starts moving, it’s with the grueling pace I need to push me toward another climax. He slams into me, pivoting our groins together, and shifting my body up and down over the smooth surface. My need climbs high and fierce. When my inner muscles clench around him, he rolls my clit between his deft fingers, taking me over the edge. Coming around his cock, I scream out my pleasure.

He covers my body with his, putting his chest against my back. “Fuck, yes. You’re beautiful when you come.”

My reprieve only lasts a few seconds. Aftershocks from the orgasm are still rippling through me when he pulls out and flips me over.

“I want to look into your face.”

So do I. I want to see his eyes when he comes. There was a time he didn’t look at me when we had sex. It was the time he only fucked me from behind, hiding his scarred face and his true person, but I never wanted a different face or another soul. Only him.

He spreads my legs and bends my knees. His expression is tender as he rubs his palms up my inner thighs to the center between my legs. Parting my labia with his thumbs, it’s on my eyes he focuses when he pushes inside. I don’t hesitate to bare my heart. My feelings are etched on my face for him to read. For his eyes only. I show him my ecstasy as he fills me in the only way that makes me complete––with his body and soul. I show him my reverence as he starts pouring everything he has inside of me. Our desires, emotions, dreams, and essence intertwine as we move together. I take what he gives when his thrusts become more powerful, but I also give back in return. For every shove, I clench down on him, dragging him deeper and holding him tighter. My hands travel over his strong arms and his hard chest, tracing the familiar grooves. I adore every part of him, inside and out, and I’m falling harder than I imagined possible. The sensation is wild and vulnerable, beautiful and frightening in its intensity. I need his arms around me.

“Hold me,” I whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate. Without breaking his pace, he laces our fingers together and lifts my arms above my head. His chest presses against mine as he claims my lips in an incredibly soft and lingering kiss. I embrace my feelings, letting the love explode and grow inside of me until there’s nothing but him. He fills my senses. His kiss tells me what I want to know. He cares. He still cares for me and not just as a possession. I’m pinned under his strong body, a damaged being, but I’m here out of my own free will, and that makes me more than a broken toy. I’m more than a vendetta or a debt, and he’s more than The Breaker, because he kisses me like a husband. Right now, he’s only a man who loves a woman, and I’m the woman who loves him back. Falling in love––the giddy kind––after deep and eternal loving may be doing things in reverse, but Gabriel and I have never been the norm. Perhaps we weren’t meant to be the norm. We’re us, and I love us.

“Valentina.”

His whisper brings me back to him, to the sensation where our bodies are connected. It’s too much and too little. I can’t bear more, and I can’t stop. My fingers clench around his as a strangled cry of pleasure leaves my mouth.

“I’ve got you, beautiful.”

He does. He always has. He slows his pace a fraction and tilts his hips, changing the angle of his penetration. There. Oh, God. My lips part on a soundless gasp as he hits the right spot.

“Come with me.”

It’s a plea, not a command, and I obey it more eagerly than I obeyed any of his orders. My vision blurs as my body explodes. He’s right there with me, giving me his all. His back arches, and his hips jerk as he holds my gaze. His eyes are open and his soul exposed as he shows me what I do to him. Our connection is perfect. There are no thoughts about the past or the future in my head. What I feel is too intense to leave space for worries and fear. There’s only this moment. As his arms come around me to cushion my back and hold me close, I allow myself to fall apart, heal, and for the shattered pieces to come together. I weep in the crook of his neck, unabashedly, for the greatness of this gift, for having him again.

Lightning flashes outside, and the storm erupts in full force.

When he lifts on his arms to look at me, his cock slips free. I moan, not wanting to lose him, yet.

“Cold?” He rubs my arm.

“No.”

He kicks his shoes free and removes his pants. I watch with mesmerized fascination as he undresses. There are still scars on his body, but they are different, now. Whatever he did, he underwent severe surgery. I don’t care what he looks like, but I miss the marks I got to know, the ones that defined him. No matter. I’ll get to know his new scars.

Catching my gaze on him, he says in a low voice, “What are you thinking?”

“That my husband had scars like that.”

He doesn’t offer an explanation, and I don’t push. What I don’t want is more lies between us.

“Take this.” He helps me to pull on his shirt. I can’t help but inhale deeply. The clean, spicy smell is from before Gabriel became Gregor.

Lifting me into his arms, he carries me to the reclining chair, settles down with me in his lap, and covers us with a throw from the chair back. Our cocoon is safe and warm. Together, we listen to the sound of the rain on the roof and watch the sky darken through the window.

He strokes my hip under the throw. “Where’s your son?”

“With friends.”

He tenses. “Reliable ones?”

“The guys you met at the market.”

His tension doesn’t ease. “Can they handle a baby?”

“As good as any mom I know.”

“You sure?”

I can’t resist teasing. “For a first date, you’re very concerned about a single mom’s baby.”

He brushes a stray hair from my face. “He’s cute.” He says it like it explains his interest in Connor. “You said a single mom.” He hesitates. “Are you?”

“Would I have been here if I wasn’t?”

He doesn’t answer.

A part of me wants to dive into this relationship and grab everything with a sweep of my arm, but I remind myself to be patient. I’m not doing this by force or manipulation. This time, it will be out of both our free wills.

I turn his wrist to the light to read the time on his watch. It’s past five. “I have to go, soon.”

His arm tightens around me. “Already?”

“I said I’d be back to feed Connor before bedtime. His bath is at six.”

My heart contracts painfully for the longing that flashes in his eyes. He looks at me for a long time, and when he finally speaks, he pushes the words out, as if they are hard for him to say.

“Valentina, you’re a very desirable woman.”

“But?”

“But this wasn’t a first date.”

“What was it?”

His eyes search mine for something I can’t name. He takes a breath and licks his lips. “A mistake.”

Hurt twists my heart, but I brush it aside. I won’t allow him to derail me. “This may not be a conventional date, but it wasn’t a mistake.”

“You don’t know me, and when you do, you’ll run. This is every kind of wrong.”

“What we just did in your kitchen, did it feel wrong?”

“No. Every bit of it was right, but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Then we’ll just focus on what feels right.”

“No, Valentina.” His voice is harsh. “It won’t work.”

I was so ready to tell him I know the truth, but he’s not ready to hear it. I believe he’s ready for us, or he wouldn’t have come back and looked for me, but if I force things, I may screw this up.

I push on his chest to get up. “I have to go.”

He locks me in a tight embrace. “Not while it’s raining so hard. Too unsafe on the road.”

“Connor––”

“Nothing will happen if you’re thirty minutes late. Call your friends and tell them you’re waiting out the storm.”

Always protective. God knows, I need the extra time with him. “I’ll get my phone.”

“Stay put.” He shifts out from under me and fetches my bag from the kitchen.

I use the opportunity to study him more. If he thought I wouldn’t recognize the chiseled perfection of his ass, he really didn’t know that each part of his body is forever imprinted in my mind. I don’t care what face he wears, scared or handsome, I want the man underneath.

“Here you go.” He hands me my bag and gives me space to make the call.

While I speak to Rhett, the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the space. When I cut the call, he carries a steaming mug to me. Two sugars and milk, just the way I like.

“I would’ve offered you wine, but I don’t want you to drink and drive.”

“Thanks.” I smile at his protectiveness. “That’s very considerate.”

“Would you like something to eat?”

“I’m good.”

For the remainder of the time, we sip our coffee in comfortable silence while he plays with my hair, almost like in the days when I sat at his feet in his study at night. When only a light mist rain remains, he helps me gather my clothes, but shoves my ripped panties in his pocket. He buttons up my coat and walks me to my car, holding my umbrella for me.

His kiss is passionate and desperate, as if he’s saying goodbye. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

He opens my door but grabs my wrist before I can get in. “Valentina.”

I look back at him. “Yes?”

“Thank you for coming.”

“I couldn’t stay away.”

His smile is both sad and tender.

Guilt attacks me on the way home. I feel bad for leaving Connor with the guys so I could have sex with my dead husband. What kind of a mother does that? What if Connor is hungry or feeling cranky? My worries are unfounded. When I get home, I find Connor playing happily in the playpen and Charlie folding the laundry. Rhett and Quincy give me curious looks.

“You look … different,” Rhett says. “It went well, then?”

“Yes.” I smile, but offer nothing more. Things between Gabriel and I have always been complicated, and it’s no less so now. I can’t even define what we have, let alone explain it to my caring partners.

“Someone we know?”

“What he means is,” Quincy says, “is it someone we’ll approve of?”

“I think so.”

“Wait a minute.” Rhett scrutinizes me. “Is it the guy from the market?”

“Yes. Why? Do you approve?”

“I like him,” Quincy says.

“Ditto.”

“Good.”

They’re going to see a lot more of him in the future. I’m determined to make it happen. The question is will Gabriel admit the truth? Will he come back to me as my husband or as a stranger?