Hyde returned to the suite of rooms he kept at the Saratoga Trunk, the most exclusive hotel in Martinsburg, PA. I’d been working on the plans for the Martha’s Vineyard commission I’d received from a noted film director, and I jumped up to greet my husband.
“You look tired, love. Too tired?”
“Never too tired for my blue-eyed boy.” He dropped his briefcase and opened his arms.
“Excellent!” I wound my arms around his neck, rubbing up against him shamelessly. There had been a time I would have restrained myself for fear of driving him away, but that was in the past. After exploring his sweet mouth in a ravenous kiss—we were still newlyweds, and it was allowed—I eased his suit jacket off his shoulders and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve missed you.”
“We had lunch together.” He nuzzled an
