smile. She pulled his T-shirt over his head, appreciating the sight of his bare chest in the moonlight. Wearing just jeans, he reminded Anna of the guy from the Old Spice commercial. She pushed him back onto the bed. He let her, cooperating with a widening grin. He watched as she pulled off her suit and shirt and threw them on a chair.
She pushed him back onto the pillows, straddled his waist, and savored the sight of him beneath her, all sinewy muscles and dark copper skin. He seemed to appreciate his view, too, skimming his hands over her thighs as their eyes met. She lowered her face until it was aninch from his. His breath was tinged with the peppermint that grew outside the house.
His lips were soft, his hands confident as they traveled the length of her back. Her whole body warmed and melted. She felt his breathing quicken and his heartbeat accelerate with hers. The rest of their clothes were quickly shucked aside. She stretched herself out on top of him, ran her hands down his body, and guided him inside her. There was no place in the world she’d rather be.
Her mind had been racing all day, processing tragedy and law and strategy and politics. All of that was eclipsed by the sensation of his long body beneath her. She let the analytical side of her brain give way to blissful emotion, the sweet release of feeling without thought.
Monday
8
M ornings were trickier than nights at Jack’s house. At night, Anna and Jack were just a couple, the simplest group in human relations. In the morning, Olivia woke up. Then it was clear that Anna was an addendum to a pre-made family, an addition whose status was uncertain and not necessarily welcome.
Jack’s kitchen was cheerful and sunny, with a colorful tiled back-splash, large windows overlooking a big backyard, and a fridge covered in first-grade artwork. It was a pleasant place to make breakfast, but recently, it had become a battleground of sorts as Anna tried to win the heart and mind of the local population: Jack’s six-year-old daughter.
Anna was standing over a pan of scrambled eggs when Olivia came downstairs. The little girl looked adorable, dressed in a purple T-shirt and khaki shorts embroidered with flowers. She had caramel skin and her father’s green eyes. Her wavy black hair was pulled back into two neat pigtails.
“Good morning!” Anna said. “I made you breakfast.”
Olivia glared into the frying pan. “I hate scrambled eggs.”
Anna had seen the girl devour a cheddar omelette last weekend. “Hm. How about I add cheese?”
“Yuck.”
“I could toast you a waffle?”
“No, thanks.”
“Okay, you name it.”
“I’ll wait for my daddy to make me breakfast.”
Anna kept the smile pasted on her face. She felt a sudden longing for the peace of her own apartment, where she could just listen to Matt Lauer bantering with Ann Curry as she got ready for work. Anna loved curling up with Jack at night. But she wished she had a clue how to win over his stubborn first-grader in the morning.
Things hadn’t always been tense between her and Olivia. When Anna was someone who stopped by occasionally, Olivia seemed to love her. But as Anna’s relationship with Jack grew from friendship to romance, Olivia withdrew. The little girl understood that there was someone who was becoming almost as important to her father as she was. She didn’t like it.
Anna wondered if her transition into the Bailey family had been too fast. The first time she spent the night, Anna snuck in and out of the house so Olivia wouldn’t know she’d slept over. If Anna had a daughter of her own, she wouldn’t want the child to see new men staying the night. But Jack insisted on frankness in his family. If Anna was staying over, he said, Olivia had a right to know. Anna was surprised that he wanted to integrate her so quickly into Olivia’s life. Although Anna loved Jack, she wasn’t confident that the relationship would be permanent. Her own childhood had taught her to be
She pushed him back onto the pillows, straddled his waist, and savored the sight of him beneath her, all sinewy muscles and dark copper skin. He seemed to appreciate his view, too, skimming his hands over her thighs as their eyes met. She lowered her face until it was aninch from his. His breath was tinged with the peppermint that grew outside the house.
His lips were soft, his hands confident as they traveled the length of her back. Her whole body warmed and melted. She felt his breathing quicken and his heartbeat accelerate with hers. The rest of their clothes were quickly shucked aside. She stretched herself out on top of him, ran her hands down his body, and guided him inside her. There was no place in the world she’d rather be.
Her mind had been racing all day, processing tragedy and law and strategy and politics. All of that was eclipsed by the sensation of his long body beneath her. She let the analytical side of her brain give way to blissful emotion, the sweet release of feeling without thought.
Monday
8
M ornings were trickier than nights at Jack’s house. At night, Anna and Jack were just a couple, the simplest group in human relations. In the morning, Olivia woke up. Then it was clear that Anna was an addendum to a pre-made family, an addition whose status was uncertain and not necessarily welcome.
Jack’s kitchen was cheerful and sunny, with a colorful tiled back-splash, large windows overlooking a big backyard, and a fridge covered in first-grade artwork. It was a pleasant place to make breakfast, but recently, it had become a battleground of sorts as Anna tried to win the heart and mind of the local population: Jack’s six-year-old daughter.
Anna was standing over a pan of scrambled eggs when Olivia came downstairs. The little girl looked adorable, dressed in a purple T-shirt and khaki shorts embroidered with flowers. She had caramel skin and her father’s green eyes. Her wavy black hair was pulled back into two neat pigtails.
“Good morning!” Anna said. “I made you breakfast.”
Olivia glared into the frying pan. “I hate scrambled eggs.”
Anna had seen the girl devour a cheddar omelette last weekend. “Hm. How about I add cheese?”
“Yuck.”
“I could toast you a waffle?”
“No, thanks.”
“Okay, you name it.”
“I’ll wait for my daddy to make me breakfast.”
Anna kept the smile pasted on her face. She felt a sudden longing for the peace of her own apartment, where she could just listen to Matt Lauer bantering with Ann Curry as she got ready for work. Anna loved curling up with Jack at night. But she wished she had a clue how to win over his stubborn first-grader in the morning.
Things hadn’t always been tense between her and Olivia. When Anna was someone who stopped by occasionally, Olivia seemed to love her. But as Anna’s relationship with Jack grew from friendship to romance, Olivia withdrew. The little girl understood that there was someone who was becoming almost as important to her father as she was. She didn’t like it.
Anna wondered if her transition into the Bailey family had been too fast. The first time she spent the night, Anna snuck in and out of the house so Olivia wouldn’t know she’d slept over. If Anna had a daughter of her own, she wouldn’t want the child to see new men staying the night. But Jack insisted on frankness in his family. If Anna was staying over, he said, Olivia had a right to know. Anna was surprised that he wanted to integrate her so quickly into Olivia’s life. Although Anna loved Jack, she wasn’t confident that the relationship would be permanent. Her own childhood had taught her to be
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