LITMIR.BIZ

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       “You’re beautiful,” he said sincerely.

       “You don’t have to placate me. I know I look like I swallowed a beach ball.”

       “You look like you’re pregnant—and you’re beautiful.”

       She looked at him then, and their gazes held for a long, lingering moment in the darkness of the night.

       Afterward, he couldn’t have said who made the first move. He only knew that she was suddenly in his arms, and her lips were locked with his in a kiss that was so much hotter than he’d imagined.

       Because yes, there had been occasions since they’d exchanged vows that he’d found himself wondering what it might be like if their marriage was more than a piece of paper. There had been times when their eyes had locked, and he’d thought that maybe she wouldn’t mind if he breached the distance between them to kiss her, that maybe she even wished he would.

      But he’d always held back, because he knew that if he was wrong and the attraction he felt was not reciprocated, their living arrangement would become so much more awkward.

       Neither of them was holding back now.

       She wriggled closer—as close as her belly would allow. He cupped her breasts through the soft cotton nightshirt. His thumbs brushed over the peaks of her already taut nipples, and she gasped. “Oh, yes.” She whispered the words of encouragement against his lips. “Touch me, please.”

       He couldn’t respond, because she was kissing him again.

      And he was touching her, tracing the luscious contours of her body, learning what she liked and what she really liked by the way she arched and sighed.

       Their lips clung as their hands eagerly searched and explored. The encounter was as hot and passionate as it was surprising—and it might have led to more if he hadn’t suddenly remembered that theirs wasn’t a real marriage and recalled that all the baby books he’d been reading talked about how the hormonal changes a woman went through during pregnancy could increase or decrease her sexual appetites. Add to that the forced proximity of their sleeping arrangements and the excitement of the holidays, and he had to wonder how much those factors were influencing her reactions right now.

       But did it matter what was motivating her sudden desire?

       Or did it only matter that she wanted him—as he wanted her?

       Unfortunately, his body and his brain were in disagreement on the answers to those questions.

       And his conscience—reminding him of the deal he’d made with her father—won out.

      Because even if making love was her choice, it couldn’t be an informed choice so long as there were secrets between them. And there was a very big secret between them.

      For the remainder of the holidays, he’d stayed up late every night to ensure Regan was asleep before he slid between the sheets of their shared bed. Thankfully, Deacon returned to Columbia early in the New Year, allowing his brother and sister-in-law to once again retreat to their respective corners. But there was no “back to normal” for Connor, because there was no way he could forget the passionate kiss they’d shared. Or stop wondering what their marriage might be like now if he hadn’t put on the brakes that night.

      And with her sister visiting, he would be forced to share his wife’s bed again.

      Of course, there was no question of anything happening between them only eight days after she’d given birth. But he suspected that knowledge wouldn’t prevent his body from responding to her nearness, and he prepared himself for the sleepless nights ahead that had nothing to do with the demands of their newborn babies.

      * * *

      Regan and Brielle were on the sofa in the living room, each with a baby in her arms, when Connor and Baxter returned from their walk.

      “You weren’t gone very long,” Regan remarked.

      “We did the short route,” Connor said, unhooking the dog’s leash to hang it up again.

      Baxter immediately ran to his bowl for a drink of water.

      “Did you see Mrs. Lopez?” she asked.

      He nodded. “And Baxter got two treats.”

      “Spoiled dog,” she said affectionately. “What about you?” she asked her husband. “Did you get any treats?”

      He shook his head.

      “Well, then it’s lucky you did the short route,” she told him. “Because there are still a couple of cookies left in the bakery box on the counter.”

      “Only a couple out of the dozen that Brie picked up at The Daily Grind?” he teased.

      “How did you know where I got the cookies? And how many?” Brie wondered.

      “Mrs. Lopez was in the café when you stopped by,” he admitted.

      “You’ve been away so long you’ve forgotten the many joys of small-town living,” Regan remarked sardonically.

      “Because having everyone know your business is a joy?” her sister asked skeptically.

      “Having a freezer full of casseroles courtesy of neighbors who want you to be able to focus on your babies is a joy.”

      “I’ll reserve judgment on that—until after dinner,” Brie said. “Just don’t expect me to eat anything called tuna surprise, because I’m not a fan of tuna and I don’t think anyone should ingest something with surprise in the name.”

      “No tuna surprise tonight,” Connor promised. “Celeste dropped off a tray of lasagna, a loaf of garlic bread and a bowl of green salad.”

      Brie gave her sister a sidelong glance. “Now who’s spoiled?”

      Regan just grinned.

      * * *

      Over dinner Brielle entertained them with stories about her job and her life in New York. Though Regan was in regular contact with her sister via telephone and email, she’d missed this in-person connection. Connor seemed content to listen to their spirited conversation while he rubbed Baxter’s belly with his foot beneath the table.

      It seemed a strange coincidence to Regan that her sister and his brother were both currently living in the Big Apple. If their circumstances had been different—and they didn’t have two newborn babies—she might have suggested that they take a trip to New York to visit their respective siblings. But their circumstances weren’t different, and she didn’t envision any joint travel plans anywhere in their immediate future.

      “There’s an Italian restaurant near our place—Nonna’s Kitchen—that my roommate Grace would swear has the best lasagna she’s ever tasted.” Brie dug her fork into her pasta again. “I told her that she only thought it was the best because she’s never had Celeste’s lasagna, but even I’d forgotten how good this really is.”

      “Her chicken cacciatore is even better,” Connor noted.

      “Apples and oranges,” Brie said. “Though I would say they’re both equally delicious.”

      By the time they’d finished eating, Piper was awake and wanting her dinner, so Regan and Brie went to deal with the babies while Connor washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen. He walked into the living room as Regan lifted a hand to her mouth, attempting to stifle a yawn.

      “I’m sorry,” she said to her sister.

      “I should be the one to apologize,” Brielle said. “You just got home from the hospital after giving birth barely more than a week ago—it’s a wonder

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