Smooth Talking Stranger

EPILOGUE

Jack picks me up at the airport after my conference in Colorado, where I attended some workshops, pitched ideas to magazine editors, and sold a freelance piece tentatively titled, "Six Strategies for Finding and Keeping Happiness." It was a good conference, but I'm more than ready to go home.

After nearly a year of marriage, these four days have been the longest separation Jack and I have ever gone through. I have called him frequently, told him about the people I've met, the things I've learned, my ideas for future articles and columns. In turn, Jack has told me about the dinner he had with Hardy and Haven, and that Carrington just got her braces on, and Joe's checkup went well. Every night, Jack gives me a detailed account of Luke's day, and I am hungry for every bit of news.

My breath catches as I see my husband waiting for me at baggage claim. He is handsome and sinfully sexy, the kind of man who attracts female gazes without trying, but he is oblivious to everything except me. As he sees me walking toward him, he reaches me in three strides, and his warm mouth crushes mine. His body is hard and sheltering. And although I don't regret having gone to the conference, I realize I haven't felt this good since I left him.

"How is Luke?" is the first thing I ask, and Jack entertains me with a story of how he was spoon-feeding applesauce to the baby, and how Luke took a handful and smeared it into his own hair.

We collect my luggage, and Jack drives me back to our apartment at 1800 Main. We can't seem to stop talking, even though we've talked every day we've been apart. I keep my hand on Jack's arm the whole way, and I notice that his bicep feels huge. When I ask him if he's been working out harder than usual, he says it was the only way to deal with his pent-up sexual frustration. He says I'm going to be busy for a while, making it up to him, which I say is just fine.

I stand on my toes and kiss him during the entire elevator ride, and he kisses me back until I can hardly breathe.

"Ella," he murmurs, holding my flushed face in his hands, "four days without you, and it felt like four months. All I could think was, how did I make it for so long before I met you?"

"You went out with a lot of placeholders," I tell him.

A grin crosses his face before he kisses me again. "I didn't know what I was missing."

While Jack carries my suitcases, I hurry down the hallway to our apartment, my heart beating in anticipation. I ring the bell, and the nanny opens the door just as Jack catches up with me.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Travis," she exclaims.

"Thank you. It's good to be back. Where is Luke?"

"In the nursery. We were playing with his trains. He's been a good boy while you were gone."

Dropping my purse beside the door, tossing my suit jacket onto the sofa, I go to the doorway of the nursery. The room is painted in pale shades of blue and green, one wall a mural of cars and trucks with cheerful faces, and a rug printed with roads and train tracks.

My son is sitting up by himself, gripping a wooden train engine in his hands, trying to spin the wheels with his fingers.

"Luke," I said softly, not wanting to startle him. "Mommy's home. I'm here. Oh, I missed you, sweet boy."

Luke looks at me with round blue eyes and drops the truck, his small hands remaining suspended in midair. A wide grin spreads across his face, revealing one pearly tooth. He lifts his arms to me.

"Mama," he says.

I thrill to the word. And I go to him.