Valentine's Fantasy. Janice Sims

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      After a marathon of hot and sweaty sex, Edie and Seth curled into a nice spoon while they waited to catch their next wind.

      “God, you’re beautiful,” Seth panted, peppering his wife’s back with butterfly kisses.

      “You just make sure you don’t forget it,” Edie purred and wiggled her rump against his growing erection.

      Seth laughed but reached over and snatched a white Kleenex, a surrender flag, from the nightstand and waved it in front of his wife. “I give up. I can’t go on without the aid of a medic.”

      Edie groaned and then inched out of their beloved spoon to roll over and face him. “You know if you keep conking out on me, I just might have to get myself a younger man.”

      “Then I’ll just have to get myself an older woman. Someone who knows how to roll over and go to sleep after four rounds.”

      “Better not.” Edie giggled before she laid another long, hot kiss on him. When she pulled away, she gazed deep into his eyes. “Promise me that we’ll always be like this.”

      “I promise that we’ll always be like this.”

      “Even when I grow old and my skin gets all wrinkly?”

      “Even then.”

      “Even when my hair turns all gray and I’ll have to put my teeth in a glass next to the bed?”

      “Ooh, no teeth, huh? That could come in handy.”

      Edie popped him on the arm. “Promise.”

      Seth chuckled and drew her soft body close. “I promise to love you until my dying breath.” He kissed her upturned nose.

      Edie released a long sigh and tried to relax against him.

      “Something else is on your mind. Out with it.”

      “Oh,” she said disconsolately. “It’s nothing.”

      “It sure doesn’t sound like nothing.”

      She hesitated a moment, kissed his firm chest, and then tilted her head back so that she met his gaze in the dimly lit room. “Did you talk to Matthew today?”

      It was Seth’s turn to sigh wearily. “Yeah, I guess you can say that.”

      “I take it you ran into the same brick wall I did with Chanté?”

      “Unfortunately.” He rolled onto his back, but kept Edie locked in his arm. “I think they’re worse off than I originally thought.”

      “What do you mean?”

      Seth relayed his suspicions about Matt’s potentially straying eye and waited for the eruptions he knew that would follow. Edie and Chanté were best friends, after all. Jumping to her girl’s defense was only natural.

      But she said nothing.

      In a way, the quiet was more unsettling than any explosion.

      “Baby?”

      “Do you think he’ll have an affair?”

      Seth drew in a deep breath while he replayed what he’d seen in Matt’s dressing room and what he knew of his friend’s character. He wanted to say “no, absolutely not,” but something kept the words from falling from his lips.

      Edie sat up. When their eyes met again, Seth read the sadness she felt for her friend. It had nothing to do with book sales or public image.

      “We have to try harder,” she whispered. “Everyone knows they’re soul mates.”

      “That doesn’t mean anything, if they don’t know they’re soul mates,” he reasoned, caressing her arm. “We can lead deer to water, but we can’t make them drink.”

      With a slow nod, she turned toward the window. As she gazed out at the full moon, Seth watched as a smile crept across her face.

      “We’re going to have to do more than just lead them to the water,” she said.

      Seth frowned, lost on her meaning.

      Edie faced him again. “We’re going to have to throw them in.”

      Chapter 6

      Somewhere around two a.m., Matthew began to worry. Would this be the night Chanté decided not to come home? He held his breath as his eyes scanned the dimly lit property. For the last five months he tried to prepare himself for such an occasion, but at this moment he realized he could never truly be prepared for that.

      Day after day, he taught and counseled couples on how to rebuild a broken marriage, but he was absolutely clueless on how to fix his own. The sudden beam of a car’s headlights piercing the night made Matthew’s shoulders deflate with relief.

      His marriage would see another day. Break out the champagne.

      Matthew moved away from the window and returned to the sofa. He opened his laptop and spread out a folder of paperwork around him. When the door opened, his heartbeat sped up while he questioned if his wife would buy his “working late” act.

      The door closed and he heard the locks engage. Soon their nightly script of light bantering would ensue.

      Juvenile—yes. Necessary—absolutely.

      However, at the sound of Chanté’s heels clicking up the stairs, Matthew realized there was an unexpected change in the script. He removed the computer from his lap and rushed to the living room’s archway.

      “I’m glad to see that you remembered our address,” he quipped, crossing his arms. He mentally berated himself for saying the words with blatant concern. He was supposed to sound aloof and nonchalant.

      Chanté stopped halfway up the stairs and turned to face him. “Can we not do this tonight? I’m really tired.”

      Matthew moved from the archway, instantly concerned about the overwhelming sadness in her eyes and her slumped posture.

      “Is there...?” He stopped himself at her sudden flash of anger.

      “I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”

      He had no response for the soft reprimand. All he could do was watch her turn and climb the rest of her stairs. Exactly one minute later, her high scream filled the entire house.

      Matt’s heart leaped into the center of his chest as he flew up the stairs. When he rounded the corner to Chanté’s room, he quickly skidded to a stop while his eyes grew wide as silver dollars.

      The entire room looked as if a tornado had hit. Curtains were pulled from their rods, paper, cotton and goose feathers were spawned across the floor—along with most of the bedding.

      “What the hell happened in here?” Matthew asked, though the moment the question was out of his mouth, he suspected the answer.

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