“I couldn’t come any sooner. We’ve been having a little chaos. My parents have decided to come out for a quick visit. They’ll be here in a couple of days, and the girls were so excited, I had a hard time getting them to bed. Then we had to—”

“You don’t have to explain to me. Just come here.” He pulled her close and released a portion of frustrated need in one rough kiss. Pressing her back against the doorjamb, he fisted his hands in her hair and released more.

The same, she thought, wrapping herself around him. The same heat, the same rush, the same wonder. When she could breathe again, she kept her clenched hands on his shirt.

“I thought . . .”

“What?”

But she shook her head. “Nothing.” Smiling, she lifted her hands to frame his face. “Hello, Michael.”

“Hello, Laura.” He circled her inside, closed the door with his boot. “I was going to offer you some wine.”

“Oh, thank you. That would be nice.”

“But it’s going to have to wait.” He swung her into his arms.

“Oh. That’s even nicer.”

He did bring her a glass when she was sitting on his rumpled bed wearing his shirt. Not having what he considered her misplaced sense of modesty, he sat across from her naked, knee to knee.

“I’m kind of celebrating,” he told her, and tapped the glasses together.

She felt so loose she was certain she could slide right into the sheets. “What are you kind of celebrating?”

“I sold two horses today. One to your brother-in-law.”

“Byron?” Surprised, she sipped, recognized the rich tang of a good Templeton Chardonnay. “Funny, Kate never mentioned that they were buying a horse.”

“I guess he hadn’t told her yet.”

“Oh . . . uh-oh.”

“Does Kate have a problem with horses?”

“No, but it’s quite a commitment. I’m surprised they didn’t discuss it first. I’m sure she will be, too.”

“I’d say he can handle her.”

“It’s not a matter of handling, one way or the other. Marriage is a partnership, and decisions require discussion and mutual agreement. And what are you grinning at?”

“You look cute, sitting there all mussed up from sex and lecturing me on relationship ethics.”

“I wasn’t lecturing.” She took a small, cool sip from her glass. “I was simply stating. Don’t you believe in relationship ethics?”

“Yep.” His hand wandered up her thigh. “But I figure like in any partnership, sometimes one end makes a decision on its own, and ethics get bent a little. I like this little birthmark way up here.” His fingers skimmed high on her thigh over a small crescent shape. “Looks like a moon. Sexier than a tattoo.”

“You’re trying to distract me.”