Lone Star Twins

“What else could you possibly need to know?” Poppy asked, only half joking, getting to her feet.

Mitzy slid everything in her work bag. “Well, for one thing, we need to revisit your individual family histories.”

“We did that before,” Poppy pointed out.

“Individually. Not together. Now that you are married we have to make sure there has been full disclosure between the two of you and that there are no underlying issues there, either.”

“Sounds like a test,” Trace grumbled.

That Cheshire smile again. “It is, in a way,” Mitzy said. “So, if there’s anything you haven’t told each other—and should—now is probably the time.”

* * *

TRACE WAS ABOUT to say there was nothing he and Poppy hadn’t told each other when he caught the fleeting glimpse of unhappiness in his new wife’s eyes and realized maybe there was. What it could be, though, he had no idea.

He waited until they had showed the social worker out before voicing his concern. He cupped Poppy by the shoulders and looked down at her. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

Poppy extricated herself deftly, swirled, lifted the skirt of her wedding dress in both hands and headed up the stairs. “Didn’t you see the way she was looking at us?” She was fuming.

He caught sight of the layers of petticoat beneath the satin skirt. And couldn’t help wondering what was beneath that.

Casually, he caught up with her in the short hall that ran the length of the second floor of the bungalow. “Like a social worker doing her job?”

Poppy stormed into the bedroom, still in her stocking feet. Reaching behind her for the zipper, she pouted. “She thinks our marriage is a sham.”

Trace stepped in to gallantly unhook the fastening at the nape of her gown. Once that was free, the zipper came down easily. “Why?” he countered huskily. “Because she obviously figured out you and I didn’t consummate our marriage last night?”

She shivered when his fingertips grazed her bare skin. “Please don’t say it that way.”

Hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “Since when have we parsed words or dealt with something other than the truth?”

Poppy raked her teeth across the delectable plumpness of her lower lip. “Never.”

“So what’s the problem, then?”

She stared at the open collar of his shirt. “The fact we didn’t make love makes us—our whole union—look suspect.”

“Well, then,” Trace drawled, taking her in his arms and doing what he should have done the night before, would have done if she hadn’t been so skittish and he hadn’t been so damned jet-lagged. “There is only one way to fix that.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_1bd7e0ca-4f96-5d5c-b891-674d33ab520f)

Poppy knew she and Trace would eventually make love as a married couple. She had just convinced herself it wouldn’t be until she felt emotionally ready.

She splayed her hands across the hardness of his chest and ducked her head to the side. “You can’t kiss me.”

He chuckled, stroking one hand down her back, molding the other around the nape of her neck. “Actually, darlin’...” He left a trail of light kisses across the top of her head, down her temple, along the curve of her cheekbone, to the ultrasensitive place just behind her ear. “I think I’m supposed to...”

“Not yet.” Not until her sentiments were in order, her heart secure.

“Then how about I help you out of this dress,” he said.

She moaned as his tongue swept the shell of her ear. “Trace, I—”

“Unless you’re really going to wear your wedding dress all day.”

Gently, he eased the unzipped gown from her shoulders.

Poppy caught it, one hand to her chest.

His brow lifted. “Something you don’t want me to see?”

Actually yes. “My sisters...”

He waited.

“Well, they got me this, um...”

As always, he knew where she was going almost before she did. “Lingerie?”

“As a joke.”

His husky laughter filled the room. Devilry sparkled in his hazel eyes. “Then I really have to see it.”

Letting her go, he removed his jacket and the tie still loose around his neck and unbuttoned a few more buttons on his shirt. That came off, too. Leaving only a white cotton military-issue T-shirt and uniform dress pants.

With a sweep of his arm, he cleared a place on the side of the bed where she’d been sleeping and sat, propped against the headboard, both hands clasped behind his head.

Her heart pounding, she stammered, “Y-you really expect me to give you a show?”

“Well...since you’ve outlawed the romantic approach I was intending...having a little fun seems like the way to proceed. Unless—” he dared her with a wolfish smile “—the Poppy I know no longer exists?”

Poppy planted both hands on her hips, forgetting for a moment she’d been holding up the front of her dress. The bodice tumbled down, revealing the ridiculously sheer and tight-fitting, low-cut bustier that laced up the front.

His grin widened even more as she decided, against her better judgment, to just leave it where it fell, draped low across her waist. “You know, married or not, I am just the same.”

“Ah...” He undid his belt then his zipper. “Then prove it.”

Her gaze followed his hand.

The bulge she saw pressing against his fly made her mouth water.

“Unless,” he said, going back to simply watching her, his eyes dark and seductive. “You don’t want to give me something to fantasize about when I am far, far away?”

* * *

TRACE HAD MEANT the remark as a jest. Incentive to forget the tumultuous pressure of the past five days and return to their usual horsing around. But the reminder of an eventual departure had set the time clock that always surrounded their reunions running.

“All right, Lieutenant,” she said.