Jason barreled through the front door and halted. His instincts told him to stop her. He was reasonably certain he could coax her mood back to romance with her favorite dessert and a stroll through the gardens, but her words had him wondering about his past choices when it came to relationships.
In the deepening twilight, a full harvest moon, robust and orange from the sunset, crested the trees. A lovers’ moon. Pity it would go to waste on them.
Jason dug his fingers into the door as Ming turned her car around. Was giving her time to think a good idea? He was gambling that eventually she’d remember that she needed him to get pregnant.
Five
M ing hadn’t been able to sleep on the red-eye from San Francisco to Houston. The minute her car had reached the Mendocino city limits, she’d begun to feel the full weight of her mistake. She had three choices: convince Jason to use a clinic for her conception, give up on him being her child’s father or stop behaving like a ninny and have sex with him. Because it was her nature to do so, she spent the flight home making pro and con lists for each choice. Then she weighted each item and analyzed her results.
Logic told her to head for the nearest sperm bank. Instead, as soon as the wheels of the plane hit the runway, she texted him an apology and asked him to call as soon as he was able.
The cab from the airport dropped her off at nine in the morning. She entered her house and felt buffeted by its emptiness. With Lily in Portland and Muffin spending the weekend with Ming’s parents, she had the place to herself. The prospect depressed her, but she was too exhausted to fetch the active Yorkshire terrier.
Closing the curtains in her room, she slid between the sheets but didn’t fall asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She tortured herself with thoughts of making love with Jason. Imagined his strong body moving against her, igniting her passion. Her body pulsed with need. If she hadn’t panicked, she wouldn’t feel like a runaway freight train. She’d be sated and sleepy instead of wide awake and horny.
Ming buried her face in the pillow and screamed her frustration until her throat burned. That drained enough of her energy to allow her to sleep. She awakened some hours later, disoriented by the dark room, and checked the clock. It was almost five. She pushed to a sitting position and raked her long hair away from her face. Despite sleeping for six hours, she was far from rested. Turbulent dreams of Jason returned her to that unfulfilled state that had plagued her earlier.
If not for the evocative scents of cooking, she might have spent what remained of the day in bed, but her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t had anything to eat except the power bar she’d bought at the airport. She got dressed and went to the kitchen to investigate.
“Something smells great.” Ming stepped off the back stairs and into her kitchen, surprising her sister.
The oven door closed with a bang as she spun to face Ming. “You’re home.” Lily’s cheeks bore a rosy flush, probably put there by whatever simmered on the stove.
Even though both girls had learned to cook from their mother, only Lily had inherited their mother’s passion for food. Ming knew enough to keep from starving, but for her cooking was more of a necessity than an infatuation.
“You’re cooking.”
“I was craving lamb.”
“Craving it?” The dish was a signature item Lily prepared when she was trying to impress a guy. It had been over a year since she’d made it. “I thought you were going to be house hunting in Portland this weekend.”
“I changed my mind about spending the weekend.”
“Does this mean you’re changing your mind about moving?” Ming quizzed, unable to contain the hope in her voice.
“No.” Lily pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and dug in a drawer for the corkscrew. “How come you’re home so early? I thought you were gone all weekend.”
Ming