Destiny's Hand

Squinting at the unfamiliar shapes skulking in the shadows, Adam weaved his way toward the entryway. His head felt like the green fuzz on outdated refrigerator leftovers, and his stomach rumbled uneasily.

Swear to God, I’m never drinking another scotch as long as I live.

In the darkness, his shin clipped something.

Pain shot up his leg.

Swearing loudly, he jerked his knee up reflexively. The motion caused him to knock his foot into what he thought might be a sideboard—or it could have been a highboy. He wasn’t real clear on the difference, although Morgan had tried to explain it to him several times.

Either way, it hurt like hell.

He let loose with another string of oaths as he lost his balance completely and fell backward into a grouping of dining room chairs. Amidst the screeching of wooden chair legs being propelled across the cement floor, Adam found himself lying flat on his butt, his head spinning.

Dammit, he should have changed that bulb a week ago when Morgan told him it was out.

At that moment, the side door that led into the house jerked open. Adam blinked at the sudden invasion of light and saw his wife standing in the doorway. Her face was grim and she was wielding his softball bat.

Belatedly he realized he hadn’t told her he’d decided to come home.

Her chin was clenched, fingers curled around the bat, eyes narrowed in a rob-my-house-and-you-die glare. She looked darned tough with the bat cocked over her shoulder, ready to grand slam his head.

She was fierce, his Morgan. She’d defend to the death what was hers.

That’s my girl.

Adam’s heart swelled with pride. Tough yet so delicate you would never suspect she had an inner core of pure iron. If he were stranded on a deserted island, she would always be the one person he wanted with him.

“Adam? Is that you?”

“Honey, I’m home,” he said a bit sheepishly.

“You’re drunk,” she said, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Just a little bit,” he slurred. Adam could count on one hand the number of times he’d been drunk during their ten years together. “Jacobbi and his scotches.”

She glanced at the overturned furniture. “Why didn’t you come in through the back door?”

“I forgot you had the garage booby-trapped with antiques. Are you still planning on beaning me with the Louisville Slugger?”

“What? Oh,” Morgan said and lowered the bat.

“Not saying I don’t deserve it. I acted like an ass tonight.”

Cocking her head, she studied him as if she wanted to agree, but after a couple of seconds she said, “You didn’t act like an ass. It was inappropriate for me to show up dressed like that while you were trying to conduct business.”

“You just caught me off guard,” he said, ignoring the throbbing in his knee.

“That was the point. Spice things up. Do the unexpected.”

“My mind was focused on business, and it’s hard for me to shift gears, that’s all. But you looked so damn hot in those sexy boots. I about swallowed my tongue when I looked up and saw you.”

“Really?” she whispered. She sounded happy.

Adam was startled to realize how long it had been since she’d sounded that way. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“But you seemed mad.”

“On the contrary, I was very horny.”

“Oh, Adam.”

“Why didn’t you mention it sooner?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I guess I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“That you weren’t attracted to me anymore.”

She ducked her head and looked so darn vulnerable that his chest muscles became a tourniquet squeezing off his air. He hated to think that he had made her feel as if he wasn’t attracted to her.

“Aw, sweetheart, don’t ever be afraid of that. I mean, look at you, Morgan. You’re stunning. Any guy would give his right arm to be with you.”

He raked his gaze over her. She’d changed clothes, ditching the sexy outfit for her normal pajamas. He was sorry to see the micromini go, but she still looked very hot.

“I’ve never felt all that pretty. I mean, my mouth is a little crooked and my chin is too firm and I’m too skinny and…”

“And I find you stunningly captivating, idiosyncrasies and all.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“It’s the truth.”

She gazed at him with hope and longing. “I do appreciate you saying it—I know it seems silly to men, but it’s important for a woman to hear.”

“The flowers are for you.” He extended the bouquet toward her. “I know they don’t look like much, but I wanted you to know that I’m sorry for not inviting you to stay at the hotel with me.”

Morgan accepted the flowers with a quick, gentle smile and lifted the droopy bouquet to her nose. “They smell wonderful, Adam. Thank you.”

He could tell she’d already forgiven him and his spirits lifted. He stared into her treacle-brown eyes and suddenly felt so full of emotion he couldn’t speak.

Something deep inside him whispered, Don’t ever let her go.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she said in a gentle voice that went straight to his bones and she reached out to help him up off the floor.

Adam took his wife’s hand.

Backlit by the light spilling in from the living room, her blond hair tumbling over her shoulders, Morgan looked more beautiful than she had on their wedding day.