“I’m not worried, Mama.”

Ariel ignored her. “Here’s what I want you to do. First, treat Hunter John extra special. Call more attention to yourself. I’m going to throw you a party at your house next weekend. Invite all your closest friends. Everyone will see how wonderful you are, how special. Hunter John will see how envied you are. We’ll go shopping on Monday and buy you a dress. Red is your best color, and Hunter John loves you in red. Speaking of dresses, why did you wear black? You look better in white.”

“Mama, I’m not worried about Sydney being back.”

Ariel cupped Emma’s face with both her hands. “Oh, sugar, you should be worried. First loves are powerful loves. But if you keep reminding your husband why he chose you, you won’t have a problem.”

Late that night, Emma couldn’t wait to get Hunter John in bed, with a fervency she assured herself had nothing to do with Sydney being back. Once they arrived home, she checked on their boys, asleep in their rooms, and said a distracted good night to the nanny. She started undressing the moment she entered the master suite, then stood naked except for her heels and the pearl necklace Hunter John had given her for her twenty-seventh birthday last year.

Hunter John entered a few minutes later with a sandwich and a beer. “Ball food,” as he called it, always left him hungry. He did this every time they came home from a function, and while Emma didn’t particularly care for the habit, it wasn’t worth arguing over. He did, after all, come up to bed to be with her and eat instead of doing it alone in the kitchen.

He didn’t seem surprised to find her naked. Emma wondered when that had happened, when he’d begun to expect it instead of desire it. But he smiled as she sauntered up to him and took the beer bottle and the sandwich plate out of his hands. She put them on the table by the door and pulled him toward the bed, tugging at his dinner jacket and shirt as they went.

He laughed and let her push him onto the mattress.

“So what brought this on?” he asked as she pulled down his zipper.

She straddled him, looking down at his face. She paused for a moment, not meaning to incite his anticipation. But he expected such skill from her that he naturally assumed it was for his pleasure, and that excited him. His hands tried to coax her hips down and he began to move under her, but she remained motionless.

She enjoyed sex, and she knew she had a gift, a skill in bed. But was her mother right? Was this all she had? If she didn’t have this, would he still be here? Should she be worried that Sydney was back? “Hunter John,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him, “do you love me?”

His laugh ended in a groan as he got himself worked up by what he thought was foreplay. “Okay, what did you do?”