LITMIR.BIZ

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      PJ’s eyes widened. “Really?” Patent disbelief.

      “We didn’t spend a lot of time talking about it!” she snapped. “What was there to say? He said he’d heard about my marriage from his brother and I said yes. There was nothing else. He, well, he assumed it was over. And I … said it was.”

      PJ raised an eyebrow.

      “Well, it has been—in everything but the formalities. It never even really got started!”

      “Oh, I think you could say it got started, Al.” The look he gave her reminded her all too well of the night that had been anything but platonic.

      “It was one night!”

      But what a night. Especially for a wedding night that wasn’t supposed to have happened at all.

      Making love with PJ hadn’t been part of the deal—the original deal. She’d never intended to consummate their marriage. And PJ had never mentioned it, either.

      But after the ceremony, when she’d gone home to tell her father she was married, he had just stared at her and, after what seemed an eternity, he said, “You’re married?” Even longer pause. “Really?”

      And long after he’d walked away from her, those two words had still echoed in her head.

      Was it a marriage? Was saying words and scrawling signatures enough to make it a marriage? Or was there more to it than that?

      Of course there was. Ally had always known that.

      She’d seen the deep love of her parents. She’d witnessed the shattering pain her father had felt at her mother’s death. Her marriage to PJ, in that light, was a sham indeed.

      And while she knew ultimately why they had married, she felt compelled by her father’s doubt and, even more, by her own convictions, to want a “real marriage” with PJ Antonides.

      And so that night she had gone to PJ’s apartment.

      She could still remember the incredulity on his face when he had opened the door and found her standing there. “Ally? What’s up?”

      “I …” She’d swallowed hard. “I need another favor.”

      “Yeah, sure, name it.” He’d shrugged, still looking at her strangely because, of course, he hadn’t expected to see her at all.

      Her fingers had twisted together, strangled each other, as she looked up into his eyes. “Could you, um, please make love to me?”

      He’d looked at her, stunned. And for so long, that she’d been tempted to turn tail and run. She’d tried to explain. “I know why you married me. I know you’re doing me a favor, putting your name on a piece of paper, But I … I just want it to be real!”

      He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared.

      “I know making love doesn’t make it ‘real’—not like other marriages,” she said hastily. “And I know it won’t happen again. I just thought—if you wanted …” Her voice trailed off. “Maybe you don’t find me attractive. I understand. I—”

      “Don’t be stupid,” PJ said harshly. He grasped her hand and drew her in.

      And Ally’s breath caught in her throat. “I don’t expect—”

      “Shh,” PJ’s voice was a whisper, a breath—that began on his lips and ended on hers.

      The touch of his mouth, warm and persuasive against hers, made Ally’s legs weak, made her mind spin, made her clutch his arms, then wrap hers around his back and hang on for dear life as he pushed the door shut behind her and steered her to his bed without ever breaking their kiss.

      And then he made love to her.

      Ally had expected it to be quick and uncomfortable and perfunctory—one coupling to make their marriage “real.” And, because she supposed that PJ would enjoy sex, she’d considered that to be the one small thing she could give him.

      As far as she went, as a virgin, Ally had no real experience to draw on. And everything she’d heard had made “first times” sound something to be endured rather than enjoyed.

      On the contrary, PJ had made it the most amazing night of her life.

      Making love with PJ, sharing intimacies with PJ she’d never shared with anyone, had been such an incredible experience that she had never been able to forget it. She hadn’t wanted to.

      There had been nothing quick or perfunctory about it. PJ had been gentle and thorough, touching and caressing her in ways that made her ache with longing for him. His gentleness had made her want to weep at the same time it had made her exult with the joy of finding out what her body was all about.

      And if there had been a bit of discomfort the first time, it was nothing in the face of the concern PJ expressed, his determination to make it good for her, too. And he had. All night he had.

      If she hadn’t been already half in love with PJ Antonides, she certainly would have been by the next morning. Not that she could tell him so. That, too, would have been changing the rules.

      But it didn’t stop her thinking about him. Didn’t stop her loving him from afar. Didn’t stop her reliving those memories. They were memories she’d lived on for years.

      For a long time those memories had made her doubt that she would ever be able to look at another man.

      The fact was, she hadn’t really looked at another man until she’d met Jon.

      And she still had no idea if it would be the same with Jon as it had been with PJ. She hadn’t wanted to find out. She hadn’t made love with Jon.

      “I can’t,” she’d told him firmly when she’d also told him that she was legally still PJ’s wife. “I can’t make love with one man when I’m still married to another.”

      “I admire your scruples,” Jon had muttered. “Get the damn divorce so we can get married, then.”

      And so she was.

      She loved Jon. In his way he was exactly what she wanted and needed—a kind man, a caring man. A man who wanted a wife and a family. A man who was tired of being a workaholic, just as she was.

      “We’re good for each other,” Jon had said not long ago. “We want the same things.”

      They did. Something she and PJ had never done. Would never do. They wanted different things. As soon as the divorce was final, she was going to marry Jon, make a life with him. And she was going to have children with him. She was going to give her father the grandchild he longed for.

      And she would make new memories, wonderful ones that would supercede those of one night in PJ’s arms.

      “It was a deal we made,” she told PJ firmly now. “It was never a real marriage.”

      “It was,” he said. “And you know it.”

      She’d thought so then, but now she shook her head. “I was immature. Marriage is a lot more than one night in bed.”

      “Of course it is. But it’s all we had. You left.”

      “Would you have wanted me to stay?” she challenged. “I don’t think so! You didn’t want a marriage then, PJ, and don’t pretend you did! You wanted to surf and cut class and hang around on the beach. You know that.” She glared at him, defying him to contradict her.

      His lips pressed together. And he didn’t speak for such a long time that Ally found herself sitting on the edge of her chair, wondering if he might actually do that.

      But then he shrugged lightly. “You’re right.”

      She let out a harsh breath, deflated and relieved at the same time. “Of course I’m right.”

      But even knowing that, her gaze locked with

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