Mind Over Matter

looking down at her hands. What more could a woman ask for, she wondered, than for a man to love her with such straightforward devotion? Couldn’t a woman consider herself fortunate to have a man who accepted who she was, what she was, and loved her because of it, not in spite of?
    Some of the tension dissolved and as she looked up at him she was able to smile. “Alex, has my mother fixed you dinner?”
    “Why, yes.” Though his tone was very sober, she caught, and appreciated, the gleam in his eyes. “Several times. In fact, she told me she’s left a pot of spaghetti sauce simmering for tonight. I find Clarissa’s cooking as—unique as she is.”
    With a laugh, A.J. held out her hand again. “I think Momma hit the jackpot.” He took her hand, then surprised her by leaning over to kiss her cheek.
    “Thank you.”
    “Don’t hurt her,” A.J. whispered. She clung to his hand a moment, then composing herself rose. “We’d better get back. She’ll wonder where we are.”
    “Being Clarissa, I’m sure she has a pretty good idea.”
    “That doesn’t bother you?” She stopped by the door to look up at him again. “The fact that she’s a sensitive?”
    “Why should it? That’s part of what makes Clarissa who she is.”
    “Yes.” She tried not to think of herself, but didn’t bite back the sigh in time. “Yes, it is.”
    When they walked back into the studio Clarissa looked over immediately. It only took a moment before she smiled. In an old habit, A.J. kissed both her cheeks. “There is one thing I have to insist on,” she began without preamble.
    “What is it?”
    “That I give you the wedding.”
    Pleasure bloomed on Clarissa’s cheeks even as she protested. “Oh, darling, how sweet, but it’s too much trouble.”
    “It certainly is for a bride. You pick out your wedding dress and your trousseau and worry about looking terrific. I’ll handle the rest.” She kissed her again. “Please.”
    “If you really want to.”
    “I really want to. Give me a guest list and I’ll handle the details. That’s what I’m best at. I think they want you.” She gave Clarissa a last quick squeeze before urging her back on set. A.J. took her place in the background.
    “Feeling better?” David murmured as he came up beside her.
    “Some.” She couldn’t admit to him that she felt weepy and displaced. “As soon as the shoot’s finished, I start making wedding plans.”
    “Tomorrow’s soon enough.” When she sent him a puzzled look, he only smiled. “I intend to keep you busy this evening.”
     
    He was a man of his word. A.J. had barely arrived home, shed her jacket and opened the phone book to Caterers, when the bell rang. Taking the book with her, she went to answer. “David.” She hooked her finger in the page so as not to lose her place. “You told me you had some things to do.”
    “I did them. What time is it?”
    “It’s quarter to seven. I didn’t think you’d be by until around eight.”
    “Well after business hours, then.” He toyed with, then loosened the top button of her blouse.
    She had to smile. “Well after.”
    “And if you don’t answer your phone, your service will pick it up after four rings?”
    “Six. But I’m not expecting any calls.” She stepped closer to slide her arms up his chest. “Hungry?”
    “Yeah.” He tested himself, seeing how long he could hold her at arm’s length. It appeared to be just over thirty seconds.
    “There’s nothing in the kitchen except a frozen fish dinner.” She closed her eyes as his lips skimmed over her jaw.
    “Then we’ll have to find another way to satisfy the appetite.” He unhooked her skirt and, as it fell to the floor, drew his hands down her hips.
    She yanked his sweater over his head and tossed it aside. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”
    His muscles were tight as she ran her hands over his. Taut, tense all the way from his neck to his waist. With her blouse half-open, her legs clad in sheer stockings that stopped just at her thighs, A.J. pressed against him. She wanted to make him burn with just the thought of loving her. Then she was gasping for air, her fingers digging into his back as his hands took quick and complete possession.
    When her legs buckled and she went limp against him, he didn’t relent. For hours and hours he’d held back, watching her sit primly in the back of the studio, looking at her make her precise notes in her book. Now he had her, alone, hot, moist and, for the first time in