White Lace and Promises by Debbie Macomber Page A

night together. He had held her as if he were dying of thirst and she was a cool shimmering pool in an oasis.
    Gathering her resolve, Maggie clenched her teeth. By heaven, the way her thoughts were going, she’d lean over and kiss him any minute. Her hand rested on her abdomen and Maggie felt bare skin. Her pajamas might be sexless, but they also conveniently buttoned up the front, so he had easy access to her if he wanted. Again, she recalled how good their lovemaking had beenand how she had thrilled to his hands and mouth on her. Her eyes drooped shut, and with a start she forced them open. Lying completely still, she listened, and after several long moments she discovered that Glenn had turned away from her and was sound asleep.
    An unexpected rush of disappointment filled her. He hadn’t even tried to make love to her. Without a thought, he had turned onto his side and gone to sleep! Bunching up her pillow, Maggie rolled onto her stomach, feeling such frustration that she could have cried. He didn’t want her, and as unreasonable as it sounded, Maggie felt discouraged and depressed. Her last thought as she turned out her light was that if Glenn reached for her in the night she would give him what he wanted … what she wanted.

    Sometime in the middle of the night Maggie woke. She was sleeping on her side, but had moved to the middle of the bed. Her eyes fluttered open, and she wondered what had caused her to wake when she felt so warm and comfortable. Glenn’s even breathing sounded close to her ear, and she realized that he was asleep, cuddling his body to hers. Contented and secure, she closed her eyes, and a moment later a male hand slid over her ribs, just below her breasts. When he pulled her close, fitting his body to hers, Maggie’s lashes fluttered open. Not for the first time, she was amazed at how perfectly their bodies fit together. Releasing a contented breath, Maggie shut her eyes and wandered back to sleep.
    Glenn woke in the first light of dawn with a serenity that had escaped him for months. That morning he didn’t mistake the warm body he was holding close. Maggie was responsible for his tranquillity of spirit, Glenn realized. He needed Maggie. During the night, her pajama top had ridden up and the urge to move his hand and trace the soft, womanly curves was almost overpowering. Maggie was all the woman he would ever want. She was everything he had ever hoped to find in a wife—a passionate, irresistible mistress with an intriguing mind and delectable body, who surrendered herself willingly. Her passion had surprised and pleased him. She hadn’t been shy, or embarrassed, abandoning herself to him with an eagerness that thrilled him every time he thought about it. She was more woman than he’d dared hope for, and he ached to take her again.
    In her sleep, Maggie shifted, and her breasts sprang free of the confining top. For an eternity he lay completely still. In his mind he pictured turning her onto her back and kissing her until her lips opened eagerly to his. With inhuman patience he would look into those dark, beautiful eyes and wait until she told him how much she wanted him.
    Groaning, he released her and rolled onto his back, taking deep breaths to control his frantic frustration. He had no idea how long it would be before he would have the opportunity to make love to his wife again. Two weeks, at least, maybe longer. Almost as overwhelming as the urge to make love to her was the one to cherish and protect her. She needed reassurance, and he knew she needed time. Throwing back the blankets, he marched into the bathroom and turned on the cold water.
    Maggie woke at the sound of the shower running. Stirring, she turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling as the last dregs of sleep drained from her mind. She had been having the most pleasant erotic dream. One that caused her to blush from the roots of her dark hair to the ends of her toenails. Indecent dreams, maybe, but excruciatingly