"Ella—"

"I'm on the pill, by the way," I said.

Before he could reply, I closed the door firmly in his face.

"Hi, Ella," the babysitter, Teena, said cheerfully. "How'd your meetin' go?"

"Just fine. How's Luke?"

"All clean and fed. I just put him in the crib."

The mobile was playing gently, bears and honeypots turning in a lazy circle.

"Any problems while I was gone?" I asked.

"Well, he was a little fussy right after you left, but then he calmed down." Teena laughed. "Boys never like to see Mommy go off without 'em."

My heart skipped a beat. Mommy. I thought about correcting her, but it didn't seem worth the effort. I gave Teena some cash, let her out of the apartment, and I went to take a shower.

The hot water soothed and relaxed me, easing my aches and twinges. It did nothing for my guilt, however. For the first time I experienced the two-pronged remorse of having cheated on someone . . . remorse for having done it in the first place, and also for having enjoyed it so much.

Sighing, I wrapped a towel around my hair, put on a robe, and went to check on Luke. The mobile had stopped, and everything was quiet.

Tiptoeing to the side of the crib, I peeked in, expecting to see the baby sleeping. But he was staring up at me in that somber way of his.

"Aren't you asleep yet, Luke?" I asked softly. "What are you waiting for?"

The second he saw me, he moved and kicked, and his mouth curled in a baby-grin. His first smile.

It startled me, that spontaneous reaction to seeing me. It's you. I've been waiting for you. And I felt a lovely ache that went right down to my soul, and I forgot everything except that moment. I had earned that smile. I wanted to earn a million more from him. Without thinking I reached for Luke and lifted him from the crib, exuberantly kissing his warm little face, his smiling mouth. I inhaled his powdery, diapery, innocent smell.

I had never known such happiness.

"Look at you," I murmured, nuzzling into his neck. "Look at that smile. Oh, you are the sweetest boy, the sweetest baby . . ."

My boy. My Luke.

FIFTEEN

"Wow," Dane said when he walked into the apartment, after a prolonged hug at the door. He glanced at the designer decorating, the big windows and show-off view, and gave an appreciative whistle.

"It is pretty cool, isn't it?" I asked with a grin.

Dane was the same as always, warm and easygoing and handsome. He was shorter and leaner than Jack, with the result being that we fit together perfectly when we hugged. Seeing him reminded me instantly of all the reasons I had gotten together with him in the first place. He was the man who knew me better than anyone, who never set me off-balance. It was rare to find people in life you knew were never going to hurt you, or screw you over with moral manipulations. Dane was one of them.

I showed Luke to him, and he admired the baby dutifully, watching as I settled Luke into his baby bouncer. I attached a hoop of interesting toys for Luke to look at, and sat next to Dane on the sofa.

"I had no idea you were so good with babies," Dane said.

"I'm not." I took Luke's hand and showed him how to push a plastic puppy from one side of the hoop to the other. Luke flailed at it with a grunt. "I'm getting pretty good with this one, though. He's training me.

"You look different," Dane observed, settling in the corner of the sofa to get a better vantage.

"Tired," I agreed ruefully. "Dark circles."

"No, not that way. You look great. Kind of . . . bright-eyed."

I laughed. "Thanks. I can't imagine why. Probably because I'm so happy to see you. I've missed you, Dane."

"I missed you, too." He reached out and pulled me over him until I was half-sprawled, my hair falling into his face. The top two buttons of his hemp shirt were undone, revealing his smooth golden chest. I got a familiar clean, acrid whiff of his salt rock deodorant. Affectionately I bent to kiss him, those lips I had kissed so many thousands of times. But the gentle contact didn't bring the same sweetness and comfort it always had. In fact, it produced a strange ticklish aversion.

I lifted my head. Dane pulled me closer, and that sent a thrill of something unfamiliar and not at all pleasant through me.

How was that possible?

Feeling the way I stiffened, Dane loosened his arms and looked at me quizzically. "What, not in front of the baby?"

I drew away from him in confusion. "I guess. I . . ." My throat had cinched tight. My lashes closed in a few peppery blinks. "I have some stuff to tell you," I said hoarsely.

"Okay." His tone was gently encouraging.

Did I have to tell him what I had done with Jack? How could I explain any of it? Helplessly I sat there and stared at him. It seemed as if every pore in my body went through a quick-freeze and a rapid thaw, drawing out an uncomfortable film of sweat.

Dane's expression changed. "Sweetie, I'm pretty good at reading between the lines. And I can't help but notice that every time you and I talk, someone else's name keeps coming up in the conversation. So let me start this off for you: 'Dane, lately I've been spending a lot of time with Jack Travis. . . "

"Lately I've been spending a lot of time with Jack Travis," I said, and a couple of tears spilled over.

Dane looked patient and unsurprised. He took one of my hands and held it in both of his. "Tell me. I can be your friend, Ella."