But he’d been too weak – or too kind, not wanting to hurt the girl’s feelings – and as a result had condemned himself to the hell of having to see his golden girl every day and know she was not his to claim.

Ian was usually able to keep his attraction towards Tessa well under wraps, never betraying even a hint of it to anyone. But today he’d come perilously close to letting her know just how much he desired her, to dragging her into his arms and kissing her senseless. For starters.

She was wearing one of his favorite dresses today – the pale peach one with tiny white polka dots. The silky fabric clung lovingly to her ripe breasts, the belt nipping in at her small waist, and the skirt draping softly over her gently curving hips. The color flattered her creamy skin and golden hair, and she looked as delicious as a sweet, juicy peach. Tessa didn’t wear perfume – probably because she couldn’t afford such an indulgence – but he could still recall the light floral scent that clung to her dewy skin, probably her soap or body lotion. He had wanted nothing more than to bury his face against the side of her neck, inhaling that sweet, fleeting scent, before exploring other, more intimate parts of her lush body.

Under normal circumstances, he would have maintained the very formal, impersonal air that he always did in her presence. Acting the role of a stuffy, pompous ass was Ian’s way of ensuring that Tessa never suspected his overwhelming attraction for her. But it wasn’t often that he found himself entirely alone with her, without a half dozen or more people in the same room, and he’d eased up on his cool, distant behavior for a few precious minutes. She’d been nearly impossible to resist, so sweet and shy and vulnerable, and he’d found himself speaking to her gently, smiling at her reassuringly.

His traitorous thoughts refused to let go of the memory of how it had felt – albeit very briefly – to have her lush body pressed up against his earlier today. His arm still burned from where one round, firm breast had been crushed against it. If he closed his eyes he could still feel the warm, silky skin of her arm where his hand had wrapped around it to steady her. He’d been close enough to notice the charming blush on her cheeks, the wide roundness of her china blue eyes, and the way that decadently full mouth had trembled slightly. He didn’t know if she was physically attracted to him, or simply terrified, but she had definitely been aware. And the knowledge of her reaction to him had given him a least a small measure of satisfaction.

‘What an ass you are, mate,’ he chastised himself. ‘So pathetically grateful for any imagined little response from her. You’re ten times worse than a schoolgirl with a mad crush on her favorite movie star. And just as hopeless.’

The feeling that something bad was going to happen had gradually subsided as the day went on, and by the time Tessa got off the bus two blocks from her apartment, she was very nearly convinced that her premonitions had been all wrong. This was in spite of the fact that she hadn’t received any sort of text or phone message from Peter confirming that he’d arrived home safely. She had reasoned that omission away by assuring herself that he was undoubtedly exhausted after such a long flight, and had probably fallen asleep as soon as he’d walked in the door.

And then any worries she might have still been harboring flew away the moment she walked through the door of their apartment. The sound of one of Peter’s favorite songs – Hemorrhage by Fuel – greeted her as she dropped her purse and slipped out of her shoes, leaving them by the tiny entryway table as was her norm.

“Hey, Tess.”

Tessa smiled broadly and rushed to give her husband an eager hug. “Hey, yourself. I was starting to worry when I didn’t hear from you. What time did you get in?”

Peter gave her a quick hug in return and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I actually arrived in early this morning. We probably just missed each other.”

Her smile faded rapidly as he gently disengaged her arms from about his neck. “What? I had no idea you were getting in so early. Why didn’t you let me know?”

He shrugged, the shaggy, uneven ends of his light brown hair now long enough to reach his shoulders. “I was flying standby and literally didn’t get on the flight until the last minute, so no time to text you before I left. And then when I got here I was pretty wiped out, I guess, plus I had some stuff to take care of. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” she assured him. “It’s just – I’ve been a little unsettled today. I woke up with one of those weird premonitions – you know, it is a Wednesday after all. And I always worry when you have a long flight home from some of those places you travel to.”

Peter gave her hand a squeeze. “Well, I’m okay, as you can see. Come on, I ordered pizza and it just arrived. Let’s eat while it’s hot.”

Tessa frowned as she removed her cardigan and hung it on a wall peg in the entryway. “I had already defrosted some chicken – thought I’d make that tortilla casserole you like. Are you sure getting pizza was a good idea? Things are a little tight for a few more days until I get paid.”

He was already taking plates from one of their very few kitchen cabinets. “It’s fine, Tess. Three of my stories from the last trip all sold and I deposited the check today. The chicken will keep. Sit down and take it easy.”

Reassured, she sat across from him at their tiny table for two and eagerly reached for a slice of the mushroom and olive pizza that was her favorite. “Thanks, it looks delicious. It was really nice of you to order it.”

Peter chucked her gently on the chin. “You deserve it. I know how hard you work, Tess, and how seldom you treat yourself to anything. And it’s just a pizza, for God’s sake.”

She took a bite, savoring the warm melted cheese and thin crispy crust. “Mmm, it’s awesome. Much better than chicken.”

“Yeah, I admit I’ve been craving it myself. Too many weeks of one form or another of noodles and vegetables. But that’s what comes from traveling through Asia as often as I do.”

He told her about his most recent trip while they ate, and she listed as always with rapt attention. Peter was a master storyteller, whether in written or oral context, and she loved to hear his numerous tales. If she couldn’t travel to these far-off, exotic places herself, then hearing his stories and reading his reports almost made her feel as though she was there herself.