LITMIR.BIZ

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agrees. Still, he reaches for my body as I move off the bed. He grins at me, then settles back on his pillow.

      “I guess we should go out for breakfast,” he says. “Eat something to build our strength up.”

      “For more sex?” I ask, twisting my lips in mock reproof.

      “No, actually. There’s something I want to show you.”

      My eyebrows shoot up. “Show me? What could you want to show me?”

      “It’s a surprise.”

      “A surprise?” I plop back down on the bed beside him. “Come on, Glenn. You know how I am with surprises. Just tell me what it is.”

      “You go get your shower. Or we’ll never get out of here.”

      “Glenn…”

      He pushes my leg. “Go.”

      I glare at him before scooting off the bed. I’m kidding, of course. I bluff a good game but I don’t really want him to tell me what the surprise is. I love surprises.

      “Hurry,” he tells me. “Or it might not be today.”

      “All right, I’m going.” I grin all the way to the bathroom.

      “You can’t possibly want more food?” I say to Glenn a couple hours later, when we’re sipping coffees at a Denny’s fifteen minutes from my house. I’m not a big fan of the Denny’s chain, but most anyplace can do breakfast right.

      Glenn peruses the plastic-encased lunch menu in the center of the table. “I don’t know. I could have a burger.”

      “You could not, so let’s just settle the bill and leave already.”

      “Impatient for that surprise, are you?”

      I smile sweetly at him.

      “Can I order dessert?”

      “No dessert!” I laugh. “Boy, you know how to tease a girl.”

      “So I’m told.”

      Something catches in my chest. I know we’re both joking here, but it hits me instantly that I’ve never asked Glenn about his past. We’ve been too busy getting reac-quainted in bed, and the subject hasn’t come up.

      “I bet you have been, haven’t you?” Before he can answer, I continue. “Tell me what your life has been like over the years. You said you’ve never been married, but there had to be someone serious. Maybe a few women you were serious with?”

      Glenn sips his coffee. “You don’t really want to talk about this, do you?”

      “I do. At first I thought I didn’t want to know, but I realize now that I was lying to myself.”

      “All right. There was someone serious. Only one since you and I have been apart. A couple quasi-serious relationships, but the last one was the most intense.”

      My gut tightens. Can you believe I’m jealous? “How long ago?” I ask. “And how serious?”

      “How long ago?” He thinks for a moment. “I guess about fourteen months.”

      “Wow. That’s pretty recent.”

      “I know.”

      “Don’t leave me hanging. Tell me what happened.”

      “We dated for about two years. Yeah, two years,” he says, seeing my surprised look. “I’d popped the question, and we were going to get married.”

      “Really?” I’m stunned. I know I didn’t ask before now, but isn’t this information Glenn should have volunteered? Or am I being too sensitive over the matter?

      “Yeah.” He rolls his eyes slightly. “But it didn’t work out.”

      “Oh, no no no. You don’t just tell me you asked a woman to marry you—barely over a year ago—then tell me it didn’t work out. What happened—and do I have to worry that she’s going to come back into your life at any moment?”

      “No chance of that, since she decided to get back together with her ex-husband. She broke down and told me that my proposal made her realize she had unresolved issues with her ex—you really want to hear this?”

      I nod.

      “I proposed to her. She didn’t answer, said she needed time. Three days later, she gave me some lame story about the sacredness of marital vows and how she shouldn’t promise the same thing to another man that she’d promised to her husband. She said she wanted to give him another chance.” Glenn shrugs. “As far as I know, they got back together, and they’re married again.”

      I am feeling much, much better. Well, maybe not that much better. “So she broke your heart.”

      “I’m not still hung up on her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

      “Are you sure? You were going to marry the woman.”

      “Yeah, I’m sure. Because I’m hung up on someone else.” He gives me a pointed look. “Always was, if you want to know the truth, even though we’d gone our separate ways. Plus, I don’t think things were really meant to be with Tess. She had a couple kids—”

      “Tess?”

      “—and she didn’t want more. I’d be forcing it with her to make it work. I know that now. Believe me, everything’s worked out for the best. Especially now that I have you back in my life.”

      I search Glenn’s eyes. They seem sincere. Truthful. There’s really no reason for me to be making an issue out of this.

      But still I ask, “How did you two connect in bed?”

      “Nowhere near the way we do,” Glenn answers without hesitation. Then he reaches across the table and strokes his thumb across my palm.

      “So I don’t need to spend the rest of my life hating her?” I joke.

      “It’d be a waste of energy.”

      “I know. You’re right. What matters is here and now. Us.”

      “I couldn’t agree more.” Glenn reaches for his wallet in the back of his pants and pulls out some money. He drops it onto the table on top of the bill. Then he asks, “Ready for your surprise?”

      “I can’t wait.”

      My excitement mounts when Glenn and I arrive in Duluth, one of Atlanta’s upscale and beautiful suburbs. The houses are large here, with sprawling, well-manicured lawns, neatly trimmed shrubs, colorful flowers and winding driveways that stretch for at least a couple hundred feet.

      My heart is beating a mile a minute. What on earth could Glenn be doing taking me to a spot like this?

      He’s holding my hand, something that feels so comfortable. It makes me smile. It’s nice to know that despite how well Glenn and I connect in the bedroom, there’s more to our relationship than that.

      “I’m dying here, babe. When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

      “You’ll see…”

      I continue to survey the area as Glenn makes a series of turns. At last, we pull into the driveway of a gray stucco house with a For Sale sign on the lawn. The interlocking brick driveway veers to the right, where there’s enough space for eight or so cars.

      My eyes whip to Glenn’s. He doesn’t say a word. Simply grins at me like a fool as he pulls his cell phone out of the holder on his belt.

      He dials a number. Then I hear him say, “Hey, Sandra. It’s Glenn Baxter. I’m in front of the house. Great, see you shortly.”

      “Who was that?” I ask Glenn, although I know who it had to be. At least I think I know who it had to be.

      “That

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