Getting Some

After we make love, Dominic and I take a quick shower together. He has to head off to his office, and I…well, I don’t know what I’ll do. Ever since the news broke about Charles, my business has dropped to practically nil. Even some people who’d already booked photography sessions with me canceled. I was ready to refund all of their initial deposits, but Dominic told me that wasn’t a smart business practice, and if people were going to fire me because of my husband’s actions, they were far too judgmental and didn’t deserve their money back. I followed Dominic’s advice, even if I have mixed emotions about it. It’s not in my nature to be so hard-nosed when it comes to business—which is likely why I haven’t been more successful.

At least Dominic’s brother, Sebastian, has hired me for his September wedding, and he and his fiancée have booked a great package. But I need more business than that.

Maybe I’m crazy, but I’m not nearly as stressed about the demise of my business as I should be. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that crying about something will get you nowhere. I’ve decided to take a moment in my life to pause and reflect before moving on. Oh, I have every intention of making my business the success I’ve always wanted it to be. But I need money to do that—to advertise, especially—and right now I can barely afford to pay the property’s rent.

It could be because of my religious upbringing, but I’m going to have faith that everything will work out.

As Dominic dresses, I slip into a silk robe. I lie on the bed and watch him. I like to watch him. And not just because he’s got the body of a god, but because I take immense pleasure in watching him do the simple things he does every morning when he gets ready for work.

It gives me a sense of security, I suppose. And the sense of intimacy I so craved with my ex.

“Whoo, you are looking hot!” I exclaim. He’s dressed in a neatly pressed white shirt, open at the collar, and a pair of black slacks. He looks as amazing with his clothes on as he does with them off.

He smiles softly at me, meets me at the bed, then lowers his head to mine and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. When he pulls away, I moan.

“You know I have to get going,” he says.

“I know. That doesn’t mean I want you to.”

Normally Dominic and I would engage in a bit more sexual flirtation, but today, he eases himself off the bed, gives my hand a kiss, then heads out of the bedroom.

Hmm. Odd.

I scramble off the bed and follow Dominic to the front door. I give him a big, openmouthed kiss that promises there’s plenty more where that came from. But Dominic doesn’t respond the way I expected, with the usual growl from his throat, the one that tells me he hates having to leave me when what he wants most to do is get me flat on my back.

Now I really have to wonder what’s going on.

“Dom?” I step back to fully look at him. “Honey, is something wrong?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you sure? You don’t seem…yourself.”

“I’m just wondering about the future.”

Panic stirs inside me. “Meaning?”

“If you’ll still love me as much in a couple months as you do right now.”

Now I laugh. Is he actually insecure about my feelings for him? I move toward him, take one of his hands in mine, and slip it beneath my robe. Then I force his fingers to touch my naked pussy. “Ask me again if you think I won’t love you as much in a couple months.”

“Seriously, Annelise. Things will be coming to a head soon. With me testifying against Charles.”

“Oh. That.” I wave a hand, as if to dismiss his concern. “I couldn’t care less what you do to Charles in the courtroom. The son of a bitch deserves it.”

“You say that now, but when you see me on the stand—”

“I wasn’t planning to be in the courtroom, if that makes you feel any better.”

“I guess a little.”

Every time I’m around Dominic, I want to touch him. Literally, I can’t get enough of him. I’m like a teenager in heat.

I run my hands through his black hair. “I know something else that would make you feel way better.” I wink at him. “But I’d have to get down on my knees, right here in the doorway. The neighbors might talk. But, hey, I’m game.”

Dominic shakes his head as he looks at me, a smile playing on his lips. “You’re a total nymphomaniac.”

Am I? I certainly am not the same woman I was when I was married to Charles. But almost a year and a half of no sex will make any woman a sex-crazed maniac.

Of course, a guy like Dominic does wonders for a woman’s libido, as well.

Dominic gives me a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll be here.”

* * *

For about a minute after Dominic leaves, I wonder if he’s being truthful. Or if he’s keeping something from me that I need to know. Then I brush those thoughts aside.

“Don’t bring your baggage from your marriage to this relationship,” I tell myself, thinking of the advice the Oprahs and Dr. Phils of the world would dole out. The truth is, Charles did a number on my self-esteem when he didn’t touch me for nearly a year and a half. But just because Charles was a liar doesn’t mean Dominic is. I have to take what Dominic tells me at face value, not start questioning anything unless there’s a real reason to.

I busy myself with household duties like dusting, laundry and cleaning the toilets. And as I do, a smile creeps onto my face. No, I’m not trying to set the feminist movement back forty years. I’m just saying that it feels right, being in Dominic’s home, doing housework like we’ve been together forever.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what’s at the heart of my insecurity with Dominic. I don’t know him well enough to know all his quirks and nuances. The two weeks we’ve officially been a couple is hardly enough time to discover all that.

And not enough time for me to be totally secure about where our relationship will head, no matter how much I know I’m totally into him.

“You know he’s into you,” I assure myself as I head to a large, leafy plant with a duster. There haven’t been any middle-of-the-night calls, any hushed whispers as Dominic talks to a mysterious person on the phone. And perhaps more important, I haven’t had any hang-ups when I’ve answered the phone.

The telephone rings and I jump, then chuckle at the coincidence of having thought about telephone calls before it actually rang. I hurry across the living room to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Annelise?”

“Yes,” I answer, somewhat guarded.

“Annelise, it’s Nick Foster.”

“Oh, hello.” I settle into a leather armchair, wondering what my divorce lawyer has to tell me.

“Do you have any time to come and see me today? Say in a couple hours?”

“Sure,” I answer. “You have news?”

“I think it’s best if we talk in person.”

I can’t imagine what my lawyer wants to tell me, but already I’ve got a bad feeling. The fact that he wants to see me in person probably means that he’s got bad news for me.