Riley shook his head. "I haven’t gotten over the fear of holding him yet. Next time around, I’ll think about peeking under the blanket."

"Dinner’s almost ready," she told him, taking Samuel out of his arms. She disappeared for a moment and returned with a fresh diaper. Placing Samuel inside the bassinet, she laid open his blanket. The ease with which she changed the infant’s diaper astonished Riley. He supposed that in time, he’d work his way up to that, as well.

"I’ll feed Sam first," Hannah explained, gently lifting him into her arms, "then put him down to sleep. Hopefully we can have an uninterrupted meal."

She settled in the rocking chair and, mesmerized, Riley watched as she pulled up her blouse, released her bra and pressed her extended nipple into his son’s mouth. With an eagerness Riley could appreciate, Sam latched on to the nipple and sucked greedily. Tiny white bubbles appeared at the corners of his mouth.

"Does it hurt…you know?" Riley asked selfconsciously. "Nursing?"

Hannah tottered gently in the padded rocker. "It felt strange at first, a little uncomfortable. But gradually we learned to work together. We’ve gotten to be real handy at this, haven’t we, Sam?" Using her index finger, she brushed a wisp of dark hair from their son’s brow.

"What about labor?" It was a question that had stayed fixed in his mind for over a month. The thought of Hannah in pain did funny things to Riley’s heart. He’d hated not being with her and had often dwelled on what it had cost her to bring Sam into the world. Each time he contemplated her labor, he suffered a multitude of worries. A part of him – a damn small part of him – was grateful he hadn’t been with her, fearing he would have been more of a hindrance than a help.

"Labor was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done," she answered after a few silent moments. "It wouldn’t be fair to play it down. I honestly thought I was prepared. Cheryl and I attended every birthing class. I had the breathing down to an art form and faithfully exercised every day, but when the time came it seemed impossible to focus my attention on anything but the pain."

Riley noted that her eyes dulled at the memory; then she looked up and it vanished under the radiance of her smile. Riley wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything like what he saw in Hannah. It was as though the curtain to her soul had been drawn open and he’d been granted a rare privilege. In those few fleeting moments, Riley caught a glimpse of the core of goodness and gentleness of this woman who had so thoroughly captured his heart.

"Then Samuel was born, and Riley… I can’t even begin to explain how beautiful the experience was. He was squalling like an angry calf. Then Cheryl started crying and so did I, but not from pain. I felt so incredibly happy. I just couldn’t hold it inside me any longer. It was a contest to see which one of us could cry the loudest. I can just imagine what Dr. Underwood thought."

"I wish I’d been with you." It hurt to know his best friend’s wife had shared these moments with Hannah instead of him.

The sweetest smile touched her eyes. "I know. Next time we’ll try to plan the pregnancy so you can be with me."

Next time. Riley’s heart came to a sudden standstill. He stood and walked over to the window, staring blindly at the street in front of their home. That Hannah would be willing to bear him another child, after everything she’d endured, wreaked havoc with his mind and his senses.

Considering her health, considering the pain she’d suffered delivering Sam, Riley found it incredible she’d even consider the possibility. As far as he was concerned, one pregnancy was enough. He didn’t know if his heart could withstand another.

Dinner was as delicious as the spicy aroma coming from the kitchen had promised. Riley enjoyed these uninterrupted moments with his wife, answering her questions, asking his own. It would forever remain one of the great mysteries of his life that someone like Hannah could be married to him, Riley mused as he stood an hour later, wanting to help her with the dishes.

He couldn’t stop studying Hannah, noting once more the subtle changes he found in her – the fullness of her beauty, the radiance of her goodness, the love for their son that shone so brilliantly in her dove-gray eyes each time she mentioned him.

As hard as he tried to turn his mind to other matters, it was difficult to forget the kisses they’d shared on Delta Pier. Her lips had been soft and sweet and so damn tempting. Even now, hours later, he had to regulate his breathing in order to restrain the mounting desire building within him. He felt the raw, hungry need eating away at him, and repeatedly cursed himself for his weakness.

Hannah set the last of their dishes in the dishwasher, then turned her back to the kitchen counter, her hands braced against the edge. Her elbows weren’t the only part of her anatomy that was extended. Riley’s stomach pitched unevenly at the way her pear-shaped breasts captured his attention. It was improbable, unlikely, but they seemed to be pouting, demanding his attention It was all he could do to look elsewhere. Yet again and again, he found his eyes drawn back to her front.

"Did you really miss me?" she asked him softly.

"You know I did," he answered gruffly, reaching for the dishrag so he could wipe off the stove. That was his first mistake in a series he was doomed to commit if he didn’t do something quick. As he extended his arm, his forearm inadvertently brushed against a hardening nipple. His breath caught in his throat. Riley felt as though he’d scorched his arm. He froze, his mission forgotten.

"You haven’t kissed me since we arrived home," she whispered.

"I haven’t?" Riley was more aware of it than she knew.

"No. Don’t you think we should make up for lost time?"

"Ah… sure."

He kissed her, licking his tongue across the seam of her lips, delving into the corners of her sweet mouth. He trembled then, trembled with a need so powerful his knees went weak; trembled with the shock of how painfully good she felt in his arms – in his life.

Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned in wanton welcome, opening to him. A better man might have been able to resist her, but not Riley. Not now. Not when he was starving for her touch.

"Oh…Riley, I’ve missed you so much," Hannah moaned as if she were feeling everything he was. And more.

They kissed again, too hungry for each other to attempt restraint. Riley felt Hannah’s need. It shuddered through her, reaching him, touching him, continuing to transmit into his own body with devastating results.

He twisted his mouth away from hers, inhaled sharply and buried his face in her neck, praying to God for the strength to stop before he went too far. Before he’d reached the point of no return. Before the hungry ache of his need consumed what remained of his will.

"I think we should stop." From where he found the strength to speak would forever remain an enigma to Riley.

"Stop?"

"It’s too soon," he argued. He stepped away from her, his chest heaving with the effort. Every part of his body protested the action.

"Riley, love, don’t worry. I… talked to the doctor." She blushed as she said it, and lowered her gaze. "It’s not too soon, I promise you."

"I’d be more comfortable if we waited."

"Waited? Really?" She sounded bitterly disappointed.

Hell, she didn’t know the half of it. "Just for a little while," he promised, but he didn’t know whom he was speaking to – Hannah or himself.

"If you insist." She bore the disappointment well, Riley decided. In fact she seemed downright cheerful about it, he reflected later that evening.

Humming softly, she gave Sam a bath, dressed him in his sleeper and nursed him once more. The need to be close to her was overpowering. Riley followed her around like a lost lamb, satisfied with tidbits of her attention.

"I think I’ll take a bath," she announced a little while later, when she was assured Sam was sleeping peacefully.

Riley nodded, deciding to read the evening paper. He could hear the bathwater running and didn’t think much of it until the delicate scent of spring lavender wafted toward him. Lavender and wildflowers.

The fragrance swirled toward him with the seductive appeal of a snake charmer’s music. Hannah and wild-flowers. The two were inseparable in his mind. During the endless, frustrating nights aboard the Atlantis, Riley had often dreamed of Hannah traipsing toward him in a field of blooming flowers, a wicker basket handle draped over her arm. It didn’t take much imagination to envision her in the picture she’d painted that hung above the fireplace.

"I’m tired. Let’s go to bed," Hannah suggested softly. Riley looked up to discover her standing in the doorway to the kitchen, one arm raised above her head, leaning against the frame in a seductive pose. She wore a pale pink gown that clung to her breasts and hips like a second skin. Gone was Sam’s mother and in her stead was Riley’s wife: the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.

He swallowed tightly. She didn’t help his breathing any when she stepped over to the recliner and took his hand. The power to resist her escaped him, and Riley obediently rose out of the chair and followed her into the bedroom.

"I’m…not quite ready for bed yet." He managed somehow to dredge up a token resistance.

"Yes, you are," she returned without a pause. "We both are – if those kisses in the kitchen were any indication."

"Ah…that was a mistake." Riley had rarely felt more tongue-tied in his life.

Hannah’s sweet face clouded. "A mistake?"

"It’s too soon---I think we should wait a few more months until you’re completely healed." That sounded logical. Sensible, even. The type of thing any loving husband would say to his wife after the birth of a child.

"A few months?" Hannah repeated incredulously.

"At least that long."

The air went still, so still it felt like the distinct calm before the storm. It was. Hannah bolted off the bed as though she’d been burned. Stalking past him with a righteous flair of her hips, she stopped just the other side of the door, then slammed it hard enough to break the living-room windows.

He heard another door slam and then another, flinching with each discordant sound.

Riley closed his eyes, then buried his hands in his hair, uncertain what he should do. He could follow her and try to explain, but he didn’t know what he would say. He wasn’t rejecting her; he was protecting her.

Hannah was too angry, too hurt to stand by and do nothing. Slamming doors wasn’t helping, and if she didn’t stop soon, she’d wake Sam.

Riley was impossible. Just when she was convinced he truly loved her, he pulled this stunt. One rejection was bad enough. Twice was unforgivable. She’d leave him; that was what she’d do. But she had nowhere to go. Nowhere she wanted to go, she amended reluctantly.

She didn’t doubt Riley’s love. She’d seen the emotion in his eyes when he’d looked down on Sam for the first time. Surely she hadn’t misread him, and he held some tender spot in his heart for her, as well.