From the Heart

popcorn draped and criss-crossed from top to bottom. She grinned, remembering the chaos of the kitchen the evening they had made them. Chaos remained one of her favorite things.
    Bending, she toyed with a box with her name on the tag.
    “Cheating?” Jordan asked from the doorway, and she quickly straightened.
    “Certainly not.” She waited until he had crossed the room and slipped his arms around her. “Just poking. Poking’s not cheating. Poking’s required at Christmas.”
    “Is that your educated analysis, Dr. Taylor?” He nuzzled into her neck, finding his favorite spot.
    “Absolutely. How’s the book coming?”
    “Fine. I have a fascinating main character.” He drew her away to look at her. She was glowing. Was it Christmas Eve that made her glow this way? “I love you, Kasey.” He kissed her gently. “And I’m proud of you.”
    “What for?” She linked her hands behind his neck and smiled. “I like specific compliments.”
    “For earning your doctorate, raising a family, making a home.”
    “Of course, I did it all by myself.” Smiling, she cupped hisface in her hands. “Jordan, you’re terribly sweet. I’m crazy about you.” She drew him close until their mouths met.
    It took only an instant for the kiss to heat. They were locked tight, enveloped in each other. Soft pleasure and hot passion merged.
    “It’s snowing,” Jordan murmured.
    “I noticed.” Kasey sighed softly as his lips brushed her neck.
    “We’ve got plenty of wood.”
    “You chop it beautifully. I’m always impressed.” She drew his head back far enough so that her mouth could find his.
    “There’s wine in the cellar.” Desire was pushing at him. The wanting never seemed to lessen. He slipped his hand under her shirt to roam her back. “Do you remember the fantasy we talked about on Christmas Eve two years ago?”
    “Mmm.” Kasey pressed closer. “Snowed in,” she murmured. “With wood and wine and each other.”
    The cocker spaniel came barreling into the room just ahead of two scrambling toddlers.
    Run for your life, Kasey thought, smiling as she rested her head on Jordan’s shoulder.
    “Bryan, Paul, you two come back here.” Alison bounded into the room on their heels. “You know you’re not supposed to tease Maxwell.” She sighed and shook her head as the twins collapsed on the floor with the dog clutched between them.
    Jordan watched as his children noisily adored the long-suffering dog. He slipped his arm more snugly around Kasey’s shoulders. “They’re gorgeous,” he murmured. “It always astonishes me how perfectly gorgeous they are.”
    “And so well-mannered,” Kasey observed as Bryan shoved Paul aside to ensure a better grip on the dog’s neck. Alison dove in to referee.
    He laughed and drew her to face him again. “About that fantasy . . .”
    “I’ll meet you at midnight,” she whispered. “Right here.”
    “You bring the wine, I’ll bring the wood.”
    “It’s a deal.” The children grew noisier, and Kasey knew a private conversation would soon be impossible. Besides, shewanted to get down and play, too. “One more thing,” she added and gave him one of her guileless smiles.
    He gave her a puzzled look, and she brought her mouth close to his. “We’re going to have another baby,” she told him. “Or two,” she managed before his mouth crushed hers.



PROLOGUE
    J ames Sladerman frowned at the toe of his shoe. He’d been frowning since the summons from Commissioner Dodson had reached him in the squad room that morning. After blowing out a long stream of smoke, Slade crushed out the cigarette in the mosaic ashtray to his left. He barely shifted his body. Slade knew how to wait.
    Only the night before he had waited for more than five hours in a dark, chilly car in a neighborhood where it paid to watch your back as well as your wallet. It had been a tedious, fruitless five hours, as the stakeout had produced nothing. But then, Slade knew from long experience that police work consisted of hours of endless legwork, impossible boredom, and paperwork, punctuated by moments of stark violence. Still he preferred the five-hour wait to the twenty minutes he had spent in the commissioner’s carpeted, beige-walled outer office. It smelled of lemony polish and now, his own Virginia tobacco. The keys of a typewriter clattered with monotonous efficiency as the commissioner’s secretary transcribed.
    What the hell does he want? Slade wondered again. Throughout his