Infamous by Irene Preston Page A

the past few years. As my wife, you won’t have to worry about hitting your credit limit.”
    She blinked her eyes against the tears. She had married him because she loved him. She had wanted the three of them to be a family. Stupid, but true. She hadn’t even realized until later what he was worth.
    Not that she would admit that, now. She had a little pride left. Let him think that her reasons had been just as cold and practical as whatever his had been.
    “Don’t be an ass, Morgan. I don’t need your money. I have the trust fund for emergencies and my books are selling well.”
    “You’ve done very nicely for yourself,” he said. “But you have expensive tastes. As my wife, you wouldn’t have to work at all if you don’t want to.”
    There was almost a question in his voice, but she ignored it. Maybe she wasn’t winning any Pulitzer prizes, but she enjoyed writing. It was at least one success she had of her own and she had no intention of giving it up.
    “As for the other,” Morgan moved closer behind her and let his hands rest lightly on he shoulders. “I can think of a few compensations for both of us.”
    He lowered his head to nuzzle gently at the base of her neck. She felt the heat of his body soaking into her, warming her in places she hadn’t known were chilled. She let herself lean back against him. Did he guess how much she needed this? Needed his warmth, his stability? She wished she dared pull his arms around her and ask him to hold her.
    It was something the infamous Jessica Sinclair would never do — admit needing to be held, to be loved. It was a weakness she couldn’t afford to expose. She savored the feel of his warm body at her back for another second and then forced herself to step away.
    “Very enticing, darling,” she purred. “As it happens I’ve already given the matter some thought.”
    Was there a flash of tension in his face when she turned to him? She couldn’t be sure and he just dropped his hands to his sides and waited for her reply.
    “You’re right. There’s no reason I need to be here all the time. In fact, things have seemed positively dull lately. Maybe a little distance will be just what I need for a fresh perspective.”
    Morgan blinked. One corner of his mouth kicked up.
    “Make sure you’re up on all your shots, no telling what you might be exposed to in the suburbs.”
    She gave a mock shudder and smiled back.
    “How bad can it be? Like you said, I’ll still be within commuting distance.”
    “Jessica,” he was serious again, “are you sure about this? I’m talking about a permanent move. I won’t have Kinsey upset by you moving out again in a month. I’m willing to give you a fair amount of freedom, but I expect you to make a commitment to providing Kinsey a stable environment for the next few years.”
    She couldn’t believe her ears. He had some nerve lecturing her about commitment. He was the one who had realized he made a mistake four years ago. She would have stayed with him if he had wanted her. Instead, the reality of Jessica Sinclair had been more than he had been willing to accept. The minute her book had hit the shelves, her loving husband had been replaced by a representative from the Moral Majority.
    “That’s so generous of you,” she said. “Just how much freedom do you intend to allow me? Do I need to submit a schedule? Will there be a list of approved acquaintances and activities?”
    He had the decency to flush a little, but he didn’t back down.
    “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m aware that you have different needs socially. I’m just asking for you to use some discretion. I don’t particularly want Kinsey reading any new articles about her stepmother in the tabloids.”
    He made it sound so simple, like she made an effort to get herself mentioned in those sleazy rags. Did he really believe everything they printed about her?
    “So I can keep a few of my boy toys as long as we’re discreet ?” she taunted.
    “No,” he