Free Infamous by Irene Preston

families on the screen and made train wrecks of their personal lives.
    By the time Kinsey had retreated to her room, Jessica’s nerves were screaming. Morgan was still on the far end of the sofa. He had switched the T.V. to the news channel and appeared engrossed in the day’s events. The sofa seemed to have shrunk to half its actual size. Without Kinsey, the only thing separating her from Morgan was a few feet of empty air. Her eyes started their stealthy trip from his feet to his ankles again. The sound of the newscaster’s voice disappeared beneath the drum of her own heart.
    She jumped to her feet and gathered up her glass and the empty popcorn bowl. Keeping her eyes averted, she carried them both into the kitchen. Standing at the sink, she took a deep steadying breath. She could do this, she could. This is where she wanted to be and damned if she would run. She might not be June Cleaver, but she was here. It was more than could be said of her own mother. It would have to be enough until she figured out the rest.
    When she turned around, Morgan was standing in the doorway. She hadn’t heard his bare feet on the tile floor.
    “Going to bed so early?” He padded the rest of the way into the room and set his glass in the sink next to hers.
    She leaned a hip against the counter and tried to look nonchalant.
    “Not so much nightlife out here; lots of things to do at ungodly hours of the morning. Is it really necessary for the swim team to meet at 8 A.M. ?”
    “They use the outside pool most days; I think it’s to beat the heat.”
    “They’re in the pool . It’s where you go when it gets hot.”
    “Huh, you’re right.” He shrugged. “No idea, then.”
    They were standing so close, but they might as well be on different continents. They had talked and laughed all evening. They hadn’t said one significant thing. They were talking now, and all she could think was how much she wanted to reach out and touch him.
    She turned toward the door.
    “I’m off, then. Are you going to finish the news?”
    “Just the next segment — I’ll be right behind you.”
    She fled into the bedroom. In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, brushed her hair, then dithered over what to wear.
    It was stupid.
    She was nervous.
    She was nervous like an inexperienced girl, like it was their first time together.
    She clenched her hands into fists until she could feel the nails biting into her palms. She was Jessica Sinclair, and this was not her first date. She refused to be intimidated by sharing a bed with her husband.
    When Morgan came into the bedroom fifteen minutes later, only the lamp on her nightstand was on. She was sitting up against the pillows with a magazine across her lap. She had opted for conservative — a short silk babydoll. She knew the deep purple suited her and it was sexy without being obvious. When the door opened she smiled and leaned over to fold back the sheets on Morgan’s side of the bed.
    Morgan was already pulling off his shirt as he crossed the room. He didn’t speak as he stood by the bed and unfastened his jeans. In the glow of the lamp, his skin gleamed. She caught her breath. Of all the sexy men she knew, only Morgan could make her feel like this just by looking at him.
    He looked so calm. Did the sight of her in his bed do nothing for him? Then he shucked down the jeans. When he straightened, she was looking directly at the part of him that said, yes indeed, she was having an effect.
    She let her gaze wander up his body until her eyes met his. He was still silent, in control, but there was a faint flush along his cheekbones as he slid between the sheets. He didn’t hesitate. One strong arm reached out and pulled her against him so that she was lying under him. She lifted her arms around his neck and looked up. She wanted to see his eyes, to puzzle out what he was thinking. Instead his mouth came down on hers and coherent thought ceased.
    His kisses were wine and candy. She was drunk and