MIRROR IMAGE

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Mandy insisted on substituting her nightgown for the t-shirt Tate gave her, even though it was long after midnight and closer to breakfast than bedtime.

"Now you're an honorary Dallas Cowboys cheerleader," he said as he slipped it over her head.

She admired the gaudy silver lettering on the front of her new shirt, then smiled up at him beguilingly. "Thank you, Daddy." Yawning hugely, she retrieved Pooh Bear and dropped back onto her pillow.

"She's learning to be a woman, all right."

"Exactly what does that comment imply?" Avery asked him as they went into their bedroom on the other side of the parlor.

"She took the goods, but didn't come across with a hug or a kiss."

Avery propped her hands on her hips. "Should I warn the female voters that behind your public feminist stand on issues, you're nothing but a rotten chauvinist at heart?"

"Please don't. I need all the votes I can get."

"I thought it went very well tonight."

"Once I got there, you mean."

"And before, too." Her confidential inflection brought his head up. "Thank you for defending my honor, Tate."

"You don't have to thank me for that."

They exchanged a long gaze before Avery turned away and began removing her clothes. She slipped into the bathroom, took a quick shower, put on a negligee, then relinquished the bathroom to Tate.

Lying in bed, Avery listened to the water running as he brushed his teeth. From sharing other hotel suites, she knew that he never replaced the towel on the bar, but always left it wadded in a damp heap beside the sink.

When he emerged from the bathroom, she turned her head, intending to tease him about that bad habit. The words were never voiced.

He was naked. His hand was on the light switch, but he was looking at her. She rose to a sitting position, an unspoken question in her eyes.

"In the past," he said in a hoarse whisper, "I could block you out of my mind. I can't anymore. I don't know why. I don't know what you're doing now that you didn't do before, or what you're not doing that you once did, but I'm unable to ignore you and pretend that you don't exist. I'll never forgive you for that abortion, or for lying to me about it, but things like what happened tonight in the car make it easier to forget.

"Ever since that night in Dallas, I'm like an addict who's discovered a new drug. I want you a lot, and I want you constantly. Fighting it is making me crazy and nearly impossible to live with. The last few weeks haven't been fun for me or for anybody around me.

"So, as long as you're my wife, I'm going to exercise my conjugal rights." He paused momentarily. "Is there anything you have to say about that?''

''Yes.''

"Well?"

"Turn out the light."

The tension ebbed from his splendid body. A grin tugged at one corner of his lips. He switched out the light, then slid into bed and pulled her into his arms.

Her nightgown seemed to vaporize beneath his caressing hands. Before Avery had time to prepare herself for it, she was lying naked beneath him, and he was stroking her skin with his fingertips. Occasionally his lips left hers to sample a taste of throat, breast, shoulder, belly.

Desire rivered through her, a constant ebbing and flowing of sensation until even her extremities were pulsing. Her body was sensitized to each nuance of his—from the strands of hair that fell over his brow and dusted her skin each time he dipped his head for a kiss, to the power in his lean thighs that entwined with hers before gradually separating them.