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Love is fragile and precious and should never be thrown away.
The two women held each other s hand tightly. Claire was crying openly.
She looked at Suzanne in dismay. What am I going to do? she whispered. I
can t go forward and I can t go back. I can t go back to things the way they were,
but I can t stand the thought of never seeing Bud again.
Suzanne squeezed her hand. Don t worry, sweetie. I have a feeling it will all
work out.
* * * * *
January 5th 437 Rose Street Late evening
Suzanne smiled as she heard the living room door close. Her husband, John,
was finally back from his business trip. She was seated at her bedroom vanity,
combing her hair, in her brand new, very pretty, very sexy peach silk nightgown.
Hearing the door close was a new thing, quite an achievement for her. John
was a former commando, a warrior. He d been trained to move stealthily,
without noise. It was eerie how a man as big and heavy as he was could move
with such silence. He d frightened the life out of her more than once as he
suddenly appeared before her, like a big, dark, powerful wraith. He was under
strict instructions now to make a noise when he came home or entered a room she
was in.
There he was at the door and she watched his reflection in her vanity mirror,
heart pounding. Everything about her husband excited her and her heart still
soared whenever she saw him suddenly.
Maybe the excitement would wear down eventually, as time went on.
Though she doubted it.
He met her eyes in the mirror, gaze dark and intent. Silence reigned in her
pretty bedroom. John only slept here, and hadn t made his mark. Luckily, he was
neat and tidy, a relic of his navy days, she supposed. The four big rooms across
the hallway where he worked were bold and masculine, imprinted with his
personality, but her rooms, where they lived, were pretty and feminine. John
seemed to find the contrast amusing and, at times, exciting.
Welcome back, she said softly, watching him in the mirror as he moved
toward her with his lithe walk. I missed you.
Nice nightgown, he replied, his voice a deep growl. He had a look in his
gunmetal eyes that she had come to know very, very well. I missed you, too.
Deep inside her body she was already opening for him, already excited by
his mere presence. But before he made love to her and she forgot her own name,
they needed to talk.
Suzanne swiveled in her chair, rose and moved toward the window. She had
to be out of his physical grasp. One touch and she d go up in flames. She held up
her hand and he stopped obediently, eyes gleaming.
John, I need to ask a favor of you.
You got it, darlin . His eyelids lowered. Anythin you want, you can have.
Jus name it.
Oh, God. Suzanne locked her knees before they buckled. When he used that
smoky tone with the faint Southern accent, she knew mind-blowing sex wasn t
far behind. She usually heard that tone rumbling in her ear as he was making
love to her, thrusting hard and fast and for hours. She had to concentrate here or
she d be on her back before she knew it.
You know how miserable Bud looked the other night when we had dinner
together?
John froze. Suzanne could almost see the wheels whirring in his handsome
head. Was this a trick question? Was this a trick question that involved emotions?
Yeah? he said warily.
Well, I had lunch with Claire and she was looking just as miserable. They re
both going to stay miserable on either side of the fence they ve erected between
them, the idiots, unless someone does something. Both of them have heads as
hard as concrete and neither of them are willing to give in first, so they ll both be
miserable forever. John, we have a responsibility, here.
No we don t. John held his big hands up, palms out. No way. Bud s
having a hard time, yeah, I can see that, and I m sorry if Claire isn t happy, but
that doesn t have anything to do with us.
Of course it does, Suzanne said sharply. John was amazingly intelligent
about a lot of things, but absurdly obtuse about others. Bud and Claire are our
friends. Their happiness is absolutely our concern.
John blinked at the idea. He opened his mouth to object when Suzanne
continued.
Their paths don t cross, ever. How could they? Bud s a police officer and
Claire works for an ad agency. Unless someone throws them together, they re
just going to stay quietly miserable forever. And Bud s beard will reach his chest-
bone. That won t
do. She smiled persuasively at her husband. But I ve got a plan.
John wisely kept his mouth shut. Still, she recognized that mulish cast to his
jaw.
Suzanne gave her husband her most winning smile. You know the opening
of the show at the Parks Foundation we re invited to on the 15th? The Jewels of
the Czars ? The one where you keep complaining about having to wear a tux?
Fuck, yeah, John said, then winced. Sorry. But I hate formal dos, you
know that. Plus you insist that Kowalski and I have to attend unarmed. John
looked aggrieved. What s with that? I ll feel naked.
Well, you have to attend because I designed the jewelry display cases and
they re brilliant if I do say so myself. And you and Douglas will be unarmed
because the idea of carrying guns into the Parks Foundation is ridiculous.
Nothing violent could ever happen there.
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