His eyes lifted to the wall of silence between them and met hers. She arched a brow in response to his deepening frown. Her handsome executive husband stood there with absolute disapproval of her attire: A white tank, a pair of khaki capris, her hair set in rod rollers under her favorite scarf. She'd been home several hours and since dinner was done, so was she.

"Why aren't you dressed? I told you we were going to dinner."

"Because we aren't going to dinner. I did fix you something to eat though." She gave him a smart smile.

"What?" He looked to the kitchen. His nostrils flinched as if just picking up on the aroma. Simone opened the magazine once more. She fell back against the chaise and leafed through the pages of models in the latest summer fashions. "You're having liver smothered in onion gravy with brown rice and squash. Oh, and I baked some rolls."

"I don't like liver. I hate squash. Why would you cook?"

"Then a ham sandwich, your choice?" When he didn't respond, her eyes flipped up and met him with a serious stare. "You can fix it yourself."

"What the h.e.l.l is going on?" he demanded.

"I beg your pardon? I'm being a wife. The wife you deserve."

"You heard me, Simone. We were going to dinner. I told you to wear something nice. I come home and you're...acting funny."

She glared for several long minutes. The old anger and frustration from that morning resurfaced. Oh she was ready. But was he? "You didn't get the memo, Keith? I'm sorry. Let me give you an executive update. Effective immediately, your wife is no longer a silent partner in this marriage. In fact, you must invest equal shares to reap any of those special benefits you so enjoy."

"Simone."

"You don't dictate anything to me. I told you to let it go, to drop the therapist talk, and you once again-"

"I don't want to hear this s.h.i.t!" He turned to leave.

"Too bad!" she shouted at him. Keith stopped. He looked back over his shoulder at her. Simone nodded that she had indeed raised her voice intentionally. She was feeling her anger and it wasn't what the therapist said. It was a healthy whole feeling of being in touch with herself again. She was ent.i.tled to it, and that was that. "Don't you ever call your mother on me, Keith Montgomery Livingston. Don't you think for one minute that I'm going to sit back and let you bully me through her again, through therapy, through guilt, any of it. That's it. I'm serious on this one. I'm not putting up with it anymore."

"You sound crazy. Bully? My mother loves you."

"No, Keith, this is me being angry. You sound like a man that will be sleeping on the sofa tonight."

She turned on the chaise and set her feet down, removing the cotton from between her toes. She heard him approaching. She ignored him. It was becoming a habit of hers. Ignoring him.

"I don't understand. Mother wanted to know how you were. She called me. I didn't call her. I told her that I felt disconnected with you. And that's evidently true, since we are constantly fighting."

"Who's fighting?" Simone shrugged.

"I needed you last night. I need you now. When did that become a bad thing? I'm doing this for you."

Simone put her hand up like a traffic cop. "Don't go there. Castle Rock, Andrew Hollingsworth, none of it is for me. When did you become a bad guy? Do you really want me to answer that question?"

"The affair is over. Our future is now, baby."

"Don't baby me. This isn't about the affair. I forgave you and I meant it. This is about how you treat me. I can't put up with it anymore. I won't," she snapped. Rising, she was stopped by the gentle pull of his hand to her wrist.

"Sit, please."

She did.

Keith turned to face her. "Look at me." He touched her chin, turning her face to his. "Look at me. I love you. This is me loving you. I'm trying. I'm working hard to do this all for us."

"Fine, it's for us. Can we not talk about it anymore?" she sighed. "I'm so sick of talking about it. I'm beginning to resent..." She stopped herself.

"Say it."

"Resent us. You have no idea, Keith, the things that are going through my head lately."

"I know, and I know why. I've done it wrong, all of it. I can get this right and get us right again. Here's the plan. I'm starting with taking my wife out on the town. You and I will sit down to a nice dinner." He put his hand to her knee and started rubbing. "We'll talk about anything you want and focus on us, on you." His hand started rubbing up her thigh, "Maybe even a little dancing? You up for it?"

She sighed.

"Must I beg?" His head dropped, his eyes searching her face for an answer.

"Fine, dinner, we'll go."

"That's my girl." He leaned in to kiss her but she turned her face. "Let me get dressed."

When she stood so did he. Again his hand found hers and he drew her close. He took both her arms and put them around his neck to hold him, then grasped her waist. A soft kiss to her cheek had her weakening. "I'm still the man you married. You're still the girl I couldn't get enough of. Until death do us part, right?"

She swallowed. The words didn't form though she thought they would. Instead, she stared into his eyes. He brought her into a hug, his face snuggling the crook of her neck. When his head finally did lift, he paused. "What's that?"

They separated. Simone followed his line of vision. Near the closed terrace doors were two bags of compost and a couple of packs of seedlings on top. Keith started toward it. She nervously ran her hands down the side of her hips, thinking of the answer. Wonder what he'd think of her lunch date. Well, it wasn't a date. N That's what it was, a lunch meeting.

"You hired a gardener?"

"Yes, no, um, remember I told you. When Cain was here yesterday, he gave me pointers and-"

"Ah, yes. Good, babe, good for you. I think the ladies around here garden. It's a good way for you to relate to them."

Simone shook her head. "I'm doing it for me, not for the ladies in this neighborhood."

He smiled, removing his tie. "I think I might shower for dinner too. Want to join me?"

"No. I've already showered," she said turning.

"Hey, we don't actually have to take a shower." Simone sighed. He caught up with her, wrapping his arm around her waist. "C'mon, babe, come play with me. Daddy wants some p.u.s.s.y."

He swept her up in his arms before she could object and carried her toward the stairs. As he climbed, she studied his face. She almost told him about Cain how much fun they had and how much she enjoyed it. Could he feel jealousy? Would he even pause to consider what those feelings meant? His eyes slipped over to her. "I've been wanting you baby, all day."

Simone forced a smile. "I love you Keith."

"Cain? I'm talking to you."

He looked up from the half eaten lobster. Had he been ignoring her? He hadn't realized. Maryanne and her pouting was so routine he just didn't care to notice. Though tonight was different. She'd been walking on clouds after the s.e.x they had the night prior. Her mood was light, and her attention focused more on him. Dinner out had been her idea.

She, of course ,looked the part of the perfect wife. Her dark blue slimming dress had sequined st.i.tching around the bodice, helping to highlight the low cut cleavage. The maitre d' stumbled over himself when he escorted them through the web of tables to the private dining area for the Hollingsworths. Yes, dinner was her idea. She met him at the door with kisses and sweet promises of a night just for them. After the day he had, he welcomed a chance to clear his confusion. He recalled Keith Livingston's espionage, Simone Livingston, the cheese from her slice of pizza on her chin and his actions since he met her. f.u.c.k, he saw her nude in her bathroom window; all of it was f.u.c.king with his head.

"Sweetheart, they're playing our song. Aww, this is perfect."

Cain looked out to the pianist and then away. His eyes focused on the night beyond them, covering the wall of windows that circled the diners. He heard the Frank Sinatra tune they danced to at the wedding but only remembered the contract that he tore up in front of Andrew Hollingsworth. He was so arrogant and thought he could marry Maryanne and be his own man. How wrong he was.

"Let's dance."

"Not right now," he grumbled.

She kicked his foot under the table. His eyes lifted and she gave him a 'play-with-me' smile. Running her fingers up and down the long stem of her wine gla.s.s, her eyes never left his. Cain picked up his wine and wished he'd ordered a bullet-neat instead.

"Okay, grouch, how was your day?"

"Good. Yours?"

"Why thank you for asking, husband dear," Maryanne said. "I had the party planners over. It's going to be Friday night. The party that is."

"Right. The party."

"Cain, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Maryanne."

"There is. I thought it would be nice if we went out for dinner. You've been so intense lately. It's almost like you don't want to be here. I just thought it would be good to get out."

He nodded. "Like I said, nothing's wrong." He let his eyes sweep the restaurant. There were a few couples scattered in Le Fleur, one swaying on the small dance floor next to the pianist. The music and dim lighting set the mood, or tried to.

"I'm trying, Cain."

"Fine. It's Joseph, okay?"

Maryanne gave that tolerant sigh he expected whenever he mentioned his family. "Not this again."

"It's not about The Keys."

"Oh?" she perked up. "That's right. You said he and his wife were coming up here. Looks like the Fourth will be an event. Mother is complaining that Daddy is making it about work. Did you know he invited the Livingstons?"

Maryanne sipped her wine. A light of awareness lit her eyes. She lowered the gla.s.s slowly. "Cain, you have told Joseph about your mother, haven't you?"

"No."

"Why not? It's past time? What are you waiting on?"

"I didn't, okay?"

"But."

"I didn't."

Maryanne shook her head and looked away. The trip to the Keys was the plan. He had it all worked out with them at sea, just him and his little brother battling the elements and talking over old times. It was reminiscent of times when they had a mother who would garden and tuck them in at night and they were just allowed to be kids. He'd pa.s.s him a beer and say; hey, mom's alive and you won't believe where I put her.

"Sweetheart, don't get upset. I don't understand why this is so hard for you. It's been five years. Daddy has done everything to make sure she's comfortable. Your brother will be happy about the sacrifices you've made."

"Let's move on to something else."

She withdrew. He glanced up to see the shadow of irritation harden her features. But even Maryanne knew he had limits. Her eyes flipped away and an evil smirk slipped over her lips. "Well, well, look who has decided to come out of Mulberry Heights. This should be interesting."

Cain frowned. His head slowly turned to look back over his shoulder. He knew it was Simone before he saw her. She and her husband stood at the entrance of the restaurant. She again was exceptionally radiant and this time on purpose. She was all dolled up in a way he hadn't yet seen her. She wore her long dark hair swept upward in pin curls that fell over her brow and framed the side of her face. He laid witness to her slender neck with a solitaire diamond that sparkled like the studs in her ear, and her delicate shoulders uncovered by the strapless green dress looked smooth to the touch. The dress with a heart shaped bodice and tight corset waist with a revealing high hemline made her legs go on forever. Even her feet were prettily draped in matching heels. Cain couldn't look away. Simone stood close to her husband as he spoke with the maitre d', unaware of the affect she had him on him.

"Right, interesting," he said.

Simone would have preferred they'd stayed in. But after allowing him to make love to her, he wanted to celebrate. He was in an unusually pleasant mood, despite the fight and the threats she'd made. Maybe that meant things were changing. That he was listening. Maybe tonight she could loosen up and they could get back on track. She was so tired of fighting.

The inside cove of the restaurant was a dark mahogany and the floors were polished with a mirrored shine. She felt like she was walking on nothing. They emerged into the dining area. Above them hung the only true source of light, a chandelier fit for an opera house. The flickering flames in the candle centerpieces also set the luminance for the diners. Tablecloths were a creamy white with royal blue trim. The cutlery was gold plated.

To complete the setting, a pianist was in the center of the dining hall with a small dance floor of three couples swaying to his music. She looked over at them and smiled. The maitre d', a short stocky man with a fat mustache that covered his top lip, led them inside.

"Simone, look who's here," Keith said.

Her eyes lifted simultaneously to meet with Cain's. He and Maryanne were seated, watching them both. "Let's go say hi," said her husband.

"No," she said to sharply.

Keith looked at her confused.

"Uh, let's not disturb them." She pulled back on his hand. She wasn't too keen on sitting across the table from Cain and breaking bread, especially when she was focusing on her husband. How was she to do that when the highlight of the day was this man?

"Nonsense, they're waving us over."

Reluctantly, she was pulled behind him. Cain rose. He had that same charming smile and devious glint to his eye. Simone couldn't tear hers away. He had changed. He looked even more handsome. With smooth dark hair so neatly groomed away from his face, it was as if he had gotten a haircut since she last saw him. When he spoke, she felt those girlish flutters in the pit of her stomach. They were the same flutters she felt when he playfully joked about the shoes she wore to grocery shop-but turned around and talked about how cute her toes were. They were the flutters she got when he wiped at the cheese from her chin and winked like it was the most natural act between them. This was bad. She had just made love to Keith, but she was burning inside just to hear him speak. Just to be near him. What was wrong with her?

"Simone, Keith," he said.

"Cain." Keith shook his hand. He dropped Simone's and reached for Maryanne's, which she extended for a gentleman's kiss. Cain winked at Simone behind their spouses' backs. She shot him a look and he shrugged. She was trapped and he was enjoying it.

"Simone isn't this just delicious!" Maryanne chirped, "I suggested we surprise our boys with lunch. How about dinner?" Maryanne's eyes slipped over to Keith. "Join us, please."

"We couldn't." Simone interjected. "We shouldn't impose on you, I mean. It looks like you're halfway through with your meal."

"No imposition," Cain said, drawing out a chair for her. "At the very least, have a drink with us."

Simone looked to Keith, expecting him to back her up. After all, this was their night and she remembered how he kept repeating the ways he would make it up to her when he was f.u.c.king her against the shower wall. He had jabbered about dancing tonight if she wanted to and making the evening all about them. Surely he wouldn't want to break that promise this early in the evening.

He did.

Keith took a seat as if another man offering her a chair was of no consequence. What choice did she have but to sit? What choices did she ever have? Her posture, stiff as her smile of thanks, she graciously sat, allowing Cain to push her chair in. He took a seat to her left, his eyes glued to her. The maitre d' signaled for place settings and pa.s.sed out the menus.

"Simone, did you tell Keith the good news?"

"No, maybe you should," Simone answered.