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  Dr. Barnes seemed relatively unfazed by her escalating outbursts. In fact, he seemed sympathetic.

  “Mrs. Reigns…” His eyes were soft, caring.

  For some reason, the doctor’s complacency seemed to only infuriate Arielle further. She could even feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

  It was suddenly hot, too hot, in the doctor’s small office. It was hot and stifling, and she could feel the walls closing in on her.

  Arielle was starting to get tunnel vision.

  “I understand what you are going through. I think—”

  The doctor’s words all melded together, fueling her rage.

  Just as she was about to explode, Martin stood and wrapped his arms around her. This time she let him hold her.

  You understand nothing, Dr. Barnes! I want a baby and you are a useless fucking tit. Fucking drippy-nosed, goofy-eared, bald fucking quack!

  Arielle closed her eyes tightly, trying desperately to control her emotions.

  Seven years; for seven years I have been trying to conceive. Seven fucking years.

  For the next several moments, all Arielle heard was the sound of blood rushing in her ears and her own heavy breathing.

  Calm.

  After what felt like minutes, but couldn’t possibly have been more than twenty seconds, her anger subsided to a dull throb—it receded just enough to allow embarrassment to creep in.

  The doctor is just trying to help, she scolded herself. Just trying to do his job.

  A moment later, she felt Martin’s grip on her shoulders relax.

  Calm, Arielle; Dr. Barnes is just trying to help.

  The doctor reached up and scratched at the stubble at the back of his head again.

  “Just one more question, Mrs. Reigns: have you ever been pregnant before?”

  Arielle’s eyes snapped open and she lunged at Dr. Barnes, her hands balling into tight fists.

  Chapter 2

  Neither Martin nor Arielle spoke for the first fifteen minutes of the car ride home. Several times, Martin had cleared his throat as if he intended to say something, but he had refrained. For the most part, this was just fine for Arielle. Staring out the window at the trees as they made their way home was just perfectly fine with her. What wasn’t fine, however, was what had happened in the doctor’s office.

  The next time Martin cleared his throat, whatever had previously held his tongue had disappeared. And what came out of his mouth, somewhat predictably, was a joke. Leave it to Martin to joke at a time like this… at any time, regardless of the situation.

  It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

  “You know, that’s a mean right hook you’ve got there.”

  Arielle had been staring at the raw knuckles on her right hand when Martin had started to speak, but now she turned to look at him. When their eyes met, he pulled a hand off of the wheel and pretended to cower against the door.

  She couldn’t help but smirk.

  “Please, Masa, no mo’! I can’t take it no mo’!”

  Arielle tried her best not to laugh, but she lost the battle. A fountain of giggles came out of her in a spurt.

  It wasn’t that funny, not really, and it might have even been offensive, but she just couldn’t help it. The torrid mix of emotions had bubbled over, and now it was impossible to keep them inside.

  After nearly a full minute of laughing, she was left gasping for air with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  The next time Martin spoke, his voice was more serious, even if the twinkle in his eye remained.

  “Seriously Arielle, that was messed up.”

  Arielle nodded slowly. Of course it was messed up.

  “We are lucky that Dr. Barnes is such a—”

  Arielle turned to him and opened her mouth to say something, to defend herself, but Martin cut her off.

  “Let me finish,” he urged.

  She closed her mouth.

  “We are lucky that Dr. Barnes is such a nice guy. Woodward wouldn’t have recommended him if he weren’t. And he helped them conceive Thomas.”

  Arielle’s thoughts turned to their mutual friends, Officer Tony Woodward and his wife, Charlene. And of course she couldn’t help think of their beautiful young boy, Thomas. Thomas, with the golden blond hair and cherub-like cheeks adorned with not two but three dimples.

  “I know,” Arielle said softly.

  She didn’t doubt what her husband was saying. And Dr. Barnes seemed like he was actually a nice guy… it was just… just…

  “And I’m pretty such that if it weren’t for the fact that both we and Dr. Barnes are friends with the Woodwards, he would be pressing charges by now.”

  Arielle stared at her husband as he spoke, and despite the condemning nature of his words—this was as aggressive or scolding as the man ever got—she found herself admiring the way he managed to keep his cool even under the most extreme circumstances.

  Martin Reigns was undeniably handsome, with a strong jaw adorned with light brown stubble, which was only a shade or two darker than the neatly cropped hair atop his head. There were flecks of gray in the beginnings of his beard and more at his temples. And even though Martin often complained about the gray—my hair is as white as Charlize Theron’s ass—his hair had just the right amount of it; it had just enough to make him look wiser and not older. Which, in her estimation, not only made him more attractive, but likely helped solidify his spot one of the best real estate brokers in all of South Carolina. A little gray, just enough to show that he had experience, but not enough to suggest that he was too old to compete with the young guns.

  “I know it’s hard for you, babe.”

  Martin ran a hand through his hair. It fell back in place, landing exactly the way it had been before. For the hundredth time, Arielle found herself wondering how it did that. With her golden locks, a simple fart in the wind could give her a cowlick for a month.

  “I know it’s really hard for you, but clearly—clearly—blowing up at the doctor is not the solution.”

  Martin made a popping sound with his tongue, reminiscent of the sound her fist had made when it had connected with Dr. Barnes’s jaw.

  Having completed his speech, Martin finally turned to look at her again. His lips were pressed together with only the corners slightly upturned.

  This was as close as Martin got to frowning.

  “What do you think?”

  Arielle tried not to smile.

  I think you are one handsome bastard.

  “It is hard,” she admitted at last. “But I don’t want any tests—you know that. I don’t… I don’t like being prodded, poked, and scraped like some sort of animal before slaughter.”

  Now it was Martin’s turn to laugh, but unlike her giggles, his exclamation was a throaty, bellowing sound that reverberated throughout the cabin.

  Arielle frowned.

  “No, seriously, Martin. You know how I feel about that.”

  Martin stopped laughing.

  “I’ve told you before, you’re more than enough woman for me.”

  Arielle felt herself nodding despite herself. For some reason, his words still seemed to soothe her, even though she had heard them many, many times before.

  The first time he had said them to her, only about six months after they had started trying, and failing, to conceive, she had been enraged.

  ‘You don’t want kids? You don’t want to have a child with me?’

  But Martin had remained calm during her outburst, and she had soon realized that this was not at all what he’d meant. Martin did want a child, she was sure of it. And he wanted one with her. This was just his way of saying, ‘If we can’t, then c’est la vie; I love you, and you are enough to complete me.’

  Arielle just wished she could feel the same.

  Her eyes drifted back to her throbbing knuckles.

  What was I thinking? Punching a doctor? For what? For suggesting that I take a test? For asking if I had been pregnant before?

  But the
answer to that was simple: nothing—she hadn’t been thinking at all.

  He thinks he knows everything. But he doesn’t.

  “Imagine we had a girl?”

  Arielle’s eyes shot up.

  “How could one man deal with two women with Floyd Mayweather right hooks?”

  Arielle didn’t smile, not because she wasn’t completely sure who Floyd Mayweather was—she knew enough to get the joke—but because she was immediately preoccupied by the idea of having a girl.

  If they had a girl, she would probably have a square jaw like her father, but she would have Arielle’s blond hair and green eyes. And hopefully Martin’s sense of humor.

  “But, seriously, Arielle, why don’t we get some tests done? I will stay with you the whole time, and if you feel at all uncomfortable, we can stop immediately.”

  I feel uncomfortable right now talking about this.

  “And I’ll get tested too, of course.”

  Arielle scoffed at this.

  “Oh, yeah, easy for you to say. All you have to do is watch some porn and jizz in a cup.”

  Martin laughed again, this time even louder than before.

  “Yeah, they call it Sunday,” he added, but Arielle ignored the comment.

  “You just jizz in a cup, but I have to be fingered by a stranger. Think about it: a stranger is going to jam his fingers inside me and then use a spoon to scrape my insides.”

  Martin cringed.

  “Jesus, Arielle, that’s sick.”

  “Well?”

  “Well, let’s say you do get pregnant—you are going to have to be inspected then. You know that, right?”

  Arielle nodded.

  “Sure. But that’s different.”

  “How is that different?” Martin challenged.

  Arielle turned her gaze back to the window before answering. As the question hung in the air, Martin pulled up to the long, winding driveway that led to their large stone house. The sun was still high in the sky, and its rays reflected off the many glass windows, creating a sparkling effect. At nearly three thousand square feet and constructed of bleached gray and white stone, their house was beautiful. But with the sun glinting the way that it was? It was surreal—a sparkling beacon signifying home.

  She loved their house and she loved Martin.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Not for her.

  “Because then we would be having a child, Martin,” she replied as Martin shifted the car into park. “And I’ve always wanted a child.”

  Chapter 3

  With the shades drawn, it was hot in the bedroom; hot and humid. It was so hot and humid, in fact, that Arielle felt her forehead break out into a sheen of sweat.

  The fact that her heart was racing wasn’t helping anything, but that wasn’t related to the heat. At least not directly.

  “When’s the last time we were home at this hour together, babe?”

  Arielle ignored her husband and stepped out of the bathroom. Eyes closed, she reached down and grabbed ahold of either side of her t-shirt and forced it downward. It was Martin’s t-shirt, an old cotton V-neck that had worn thin, and even when she pushed it down it barely covered her bare ass. A quick shake of her head and her hair fell in front of her face, and she opened her eyes again. Staring through the strands of blond hair, she saw that Martin was still sitting on the side of the bed, magazine in his lap.

  He hadn’t noticed her yet.

  Arielle gently swayed back and forth as she made her way toward the bed, imaginary music playing in her head, the iconic words of ‘Lost Together’ by Blue Rodeo driving her deeper into the trance.

  “Ari—”

  Martin swallowed the rest of the word.

  Even through the blond hair that still hung in front of her face, Arielle knew that he had finally noticed her. His hands, which had been fiddling with the knot of his tie, froze in midair.

  She took another step toward him and pulled the bottom of the t-shirt up slightly, rubbing it back and forth, giving Martin a brief glance of the inside of her thighs.

  This was not her, this was someone else; someone had somehow transported themselves into Arielle and turned her into a sexy nymph.

  She wasn’t entirely sure what had gotten into her. Maybe she felt guilty about the way she had behaved in the doctor’s office—I’ve been a bad girl—or maybe she was rewarding Martin for keeping his cool, for putting up with her outbursts.

  Maybe she liked it.

  Martin definitely liked it.

  The man swallowed hard and his hands dropped to his sides as Arielle approached, the dangling knot of his tie long forgotten.

  “Where’s Arielle and what have you done with my wife?” His words came out hoarse, and Arielle had to resist the urge to giggle.

  She was within three feet of him now, and she paused to lift her shirt a little higher, revealing more than just her thighs this time.

  Martin’s breath was coming out in short bursts, and his obvious arousal added to her own. She felt her nipples harden, and when she twisted the shirt again, the fabric rubbed against them and she gasped.

  Martin reached for her—nearly lunged at her—but Arielle hopped backward just in time and his arms fell short.

  “Lie down,” she instructed, her own throat suddenly parched.

  A look of confusion crossed Martin’s face, so Arielle repeated the order more forcefully.

  Martin nodded and obliged.

  Arielle’s eyes drifted to his khaki slacks.

  Now, lying on his back, his arms spread above his head, his arousal was more than palpable—it was plainly obvious.

  The tingling that started as sweat on her forehead spread first to her full breasts, then to between her legs. Soon, her entire body was thrumming, their combined sexual energy charging not just the space between them, but their bodies as well.

  Arielle pushed her hands downward, driving the t-shirt nearly to her knees. Then, in one smooth motion, she hoisted it completely off her body, revealing herself in all her naked glory. She gave Martin but a second to take it all in before she leapt onto him.

  His hands were on her instantly, first clutching at her sides, then grabbing her ass, her breasts, and finally her face as she lowered her head and kissed him.

  Arielle felt the hardness of his cock through his pants, and she rubbed her sex up and down it, gliding her body over the whole length of his shaft. Martin nibbled gently at her lower lip, and then his hands were on her hips, driving her onto him.

  After only a few seconds of foreplay, neither of them could take it any longer. Arielle reached back, unzipped his pants, and in an instant Martin slid effortlessly inside her.

  Their lovemaking was hungered, fueled by lust and desire, and also by a need.

  A need of Arielle to conceive.

  When she felt the height of Martin’s arousal, she quickly flipped over, pulling him on top of her, driving him deeper inside of her.

  “In me,” she whispered. “Put a baby in me, Martin.”

  The man’s eyebrows knitted, and he looked shocked by the sudden change of pace, the sudden businesslike nature of the act.

  He looked shocked and a little hurt.

  At first, Arielle feared that she had ruined the moment, but Martin had passed the point of no return. As he grunted into the final climactic moments of ecstasy, Arielle’s words echoed in her own head.

  Put a baby in me, Martin. Please, please put a baby in me.

  * * *

  “Where in God’s name did that come from?”

  Arielle was lying nude on the bed, her knees pulled up to her chin. She had been positioned this way ever since they had finished making love.

  She was not so consumed with her need that she was oblivious to the fact that the view she was presently giving Martin was far from flattering.

  But it wasn’t about him anymore. His role was over.

  Now it was up to her, and goddamn it if she wasn’t going to use every wives’ tale in the book to ensure con
ception. Even if this meant looking like a pale, shell-less turtle waiting on its back to be picked off by an ostentatious buzzard.

  “Martin? Where did you get that?”

  Martin rolled a cigar between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, turning it over to get a better view the cigar band.

  “H. Upmann,” he said with an air of pretentiousness. “Magnum Fifty. From Cuba.”

  Arielle rolled her eyes.

  “I meant who gave it to you?”

  Martin snipped the end off the cigar and brought it to his lips.

  “A client.”

  When she just stared, he continued.

  “Sold the business complex on Park Ave. Got a fat commission check.” He pulled the cigar from his lips and stared at it. “And a fat cigar.”

  Arielle gave him a moment to enjoy his cigar, but when he brought the lighter to within a few inches of it, she spoke up.

  “You aren’t going to light that in here.”

  Martin raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

  “No?”

  He brought the lighter closer, teasing her. The end of the cigar started to darken.

  “And what are you going to do about it, Mrs. Kegel?”

  She attempted to swat the lighter away, but she missed and nearly rolled over. Her hands shot out and she quickly grabbed her knees again.

  Martin chuckled and leaned away from her. He brought the lighter to the end of the cigar.

  “Martin!” she shouted.

  “Just this once,” he said. “Because when we have the baby, I will have to stop smoking altogether.”

  Arielle shook her head and tried to scold him, but a smile found its way on her full lips instead. He knew just what to say to get his way.

  Martin didn’t wait for a response before proceeding to light the end of the cigar.

  It was clear by the expression on his face that he knew he had won. Her smile told him so.

  And she was helpless to conceal it.

  “Just this once,” she affirmed, squeezing her knees close to her chest and holding her breath.

  Just this once… because after this I will be pregnant.