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2:41 a.m.
Delores Parker Hunt entered the master bedroom and was dismayed to find her husband lying on the bed outside the covers, dressed except for his shoes. There was a pillow beneath his head, but he was wide awake.
As she approached him, she said, “I envy your ability to relax.”
“Relax? Hardly. I only yielded the pacing contest to you. You were doing enough for both of us, wearing a path in the carpet while wearing me out just watching you.”
Nudging his hip with hers, she sat down on the edge of the bed. “This should rejuvenate you. Goliad called a few minutes ago.”
“Why you and not me?”
“He did call you. You left your phone in the sitting room. I took the liberty of answering it, knowing you would want to hear the latest right away.”
“Well?”
She clasped his hand and squeezed it. “The package arrived. Fog or no fog, we’ll receive it well ahead of the deadline.”
His expression remained fixed, but his relief was evidenced by a long exhale through his nose. Only she would have detected that giveaway.
“The doctor took delivery,” she continued. “Goliad is there to make certain she returns to Atlanta with it immediately.”
Despite her parting shot to Goliad, she had no intention of telling Richard about the plane crash, the pilot, et cetera. These unanticipated bothers would only anger him, and she was angry enough for both of them. Seeing that he was about to say or ask something, she laid her index finger vertically against his lips. “Don’t worry.”
“Why would I worry? What could possibly go wrong?”
“I’ll ignore your sarcasm, if you’ll entrust me to take care of everything as you asked me to.” She laid her hand on his chest and leaned down until their faces were close. “You know I’m up to the task. I would move heaven and earth.”
“I don’t doubt it for a moment. On my behalf, you’ve already made a pact
with the devil.”
“No,” she said, stretching out the word, “I gave God the night off.”
He gave her an arch look. “Del, only you would speak so cavalierly about taking over for the Almighty.”
“Only I. And you.”
Laughing, he said, “True enough.” He reached up and tangled his fingers in her well-maintained, streaked blond hair. “My lioness.”
“You had better believe it, mister.” She pulled his hand to her mouth, growled against his palm, then nipped it with her teeth. “Claws, sharp teeth, and all.”
Five minutes after being introduced to the handsome, charming, and recently divorced Richard Hunt at a charity gala, Delores had resolved to become the second Mrs. Hunt. By the end of the evening, she had abandoned her date and engaged in hot and urgent sex with Richard in the hotel elevator.
Six months to the day of that memorable evening, they were honeymooning in the Seychelles. Every day since, Delores had devoted herself to being his fiercest advocate, adoring wife, and ardent lover. He loved and trusted her above anyone else, and she made damn sure he continued to.
“I can retract my claws long enough to give you a back rub.”
“Not now.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders. “You’re tense. I feel it.”
“Of course I’m tense. There’s a lot at stake here. For both of us, but especially for me.”
“I don’t dispute that, Richard.”
A vertical line appeared between his thick brows, which were threaded with gray. She smoothed it with her fingertip, but she doubted he even felt it. His mind was elsewhere. “As soon as you get an ETA from Goliad, I want to know.”
“Naturally.”
