Page 2 of Touch Me

“That’s a myth.”

“No, it’s true. I saw a sleeping toddler once. I’m prettysure it was the top story on the news.”

I hit him with my best deadpan stare. “You’re not asadorable as you think you are.”

“Oh, but I am,” he says, his expression pure sin.

The den is right off the kitchen, and I grab my mug off theside table and head that direction, direly in need of more caffeine. Ryanfollows, and once we both have our refills, we sit at the island where we havea view of David’s back and the cartoon characters dancing on the screen.

“As for adorable…you have to admit the kid’s got it goingon.”

I sip my coffee, then swivel on the stool to face my husbanddirectly. “We’re not ready.”

I watch his face—a face I know so damn well. He wants toargue. That’s obvious enough. But what’s also painfully, screamingly obvious isthat this conversation is different from all the others.

We’re no longer tossing around those shiny soap bubbles wecan pop and forget. The mantra I’d taken so much comfort in—we’re not ready—hasbecome a total fallacy, and now I’m left with my uterus hanging out there.

Because Ryan is ready.

He has been, I think, for a very long time.

Well, shit.

I take a long slug of coffee, hoping that will make my braincells process all of this faster. Then I wave my hand as if clearing the air ofour entire conversation. “I have a toddler to entertain. And you, mister, needto get to work.”

I start to slide off the stool, but he puts his hand on mythigh. There’s barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough to keep me firmly inplace. “Ryan—”

“We have to talk about this sometime.”

“Clearly. But it doesn’t have to be now.”

“Kitten.”

That’s all he says. Just that one word. But it’s enough tomake me snap. “No. We do not have to talk about this now. I’m not evensure I can think about it now.” I’ve dropped my voice, as if this conversationmight somehow scar our very pre-pubescent house guest.

“My career’s just now taking off,” I continue. “And oncefilming begins on Dead Certain things are going to get even morecrazy.”

“Jamie—”

I slide off the stool and put up my hand as if that willblock whatever he’s going to say. Somehow, magically, it does.

“Please, just hear me. I can’t do my job and be pregnant.And not just because a baby bump isn’t part of the character descriptions. Imean, I saw how exhausted Nikki was with every one of her kids. Are you reallyready for our sex life to come to a screeching halt?”

I can’t even remember a weekend when we haven’t made love.Hell, I’m not sure I can remember a Thursday.

Sex may not be the defining quality of our marriage, butlike every relationship counselor says, it’s good for a couple to share ahobby. And stamp collecting just doesn’t do it for me.

There’s both amusement and heat in his eyes when he says,“Do you really think our sex life will ever come to a screeching halt?”

Dear god, I hope not.

I cross my arms and try to stare him down. “Babies areexhausting. Toddlers, too. Maybe when the kid starts school we’ll have time tosqueeze in a fast fuck, but—”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” he says, shaking his headin what is clearly only mock agreement. “It’s a damn shame that Nikki andDamien have three kids. I’m pretty sure they haven’t had sex in years andyears.”

He has me there. “Nikki’s always been moreorganized than me.”

His mouth twitches. “If it comes down to it, we’ll get a DayPlanner just for sex.”