transition from bride to wife.

She had the limo driver take them through midtown so she could show Drew

the lights, the people, the majestic tree in Rockefeller Center, the

carnival of Times Square.

It delighted her to arrive at the loft knowing she was alone. Finally

alone, with no Sweeney in residence downstairs.

"It feels like years since I've been here." She knew Marianne's father

had complained bitterly over their refusal to sublet, but she was glad,

so glad to know that no one had lived there in her absence.

"Well?" She combed her fingers through her damp hair. "What do you

think?"

"It's quite a s.p.a.ce." He skimmed over the plaster walls, the bare

floors, the kitschy china owl Emma had discovered in a neighborhood

thrift shop. "A bit ... spartan."

"Wait until I start decorating for Christmas. Marianne and I collected

some truly awful decorations." She fumbled in her bag for a tip when the

driver deposited their luggage with a discreet cough. "Thank you."

He pocketed the twenty. "Thank you, ma'am. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." She tossed off her coat and raced to the windows.

"Drew, come look at the view. It's better from Marianne's studio, but I

get dizzy."

"Very nice." He saw a dirty street and a maddening crush of traffic.

"'Emma, I wonder why you never moved into something more upscale."

"I never wanted to."

"Well, this is certainly charming, and I'm sure it was fine for two

college girls. But we'll have to do some rethinking." When she turned,

he reached out to brush a hand over her hair. "After all, we don't want

to share our living quarters with Marianne, however delightful she is."

"I hadn't thought ... She won't be back for a couple of months

yet."

"You'd better start thinking." He took the sting out of the words by

kissing her brow. Pretty face and slow wits, he thought, and patted her

cheek. "From what I've heard it takes a great deal of time, money, and

energy to find a place in New York. Since you want to divide our time

between here and London, we'll need the right kind of accommodations.

Jesus Christ, it's cold in here."

"I had the agent keep the heat back while we were gone." She hurried

over to turn it up.

"Always practical, aren't you, love?" There was a sneer in his voice,

but he was smiling when he turned back to her. "I'm sure we'll enjoy

ourselves here for a couple of weeks. After all, a honeymoon, even a

delayed one, doesn't require much more than a bed." He laughed when she

blushed, then walked over to sweep her up in a long, l.u.s.ty kiss. "We do

have a bed, don't we, Emma?"

"Yes." She held him close. "Right through there. It needs fresh

linens."

"We'll worry about the linens later." He pulled her through the doorway,

tugging at her sweater.

She knew it would be quick, not fierce and painful as it had been on her

wedding night, but speedy and soon over. She didn't know how to ask for