She patted his chest. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ve heard they’re doing wonders with implants.”
Those pale eyes widened, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“I think there are also some nonsurgical devices based on air pressure and vacuum. I could probably even design something for you, if it came to that.”
“That’s it!” The flush receded, and before she knew what was happening, he’d dropped his shoulder, pushed it not ungently against her stomach, and upended her.
“Upsey-daisy, sweetheart.”
She found herself staring at the seat of his jeans. Faded denim stretched tight over slim, hard-muscled hips. She began to feel dizzy and wasn’t certain she could entirely blame it on the blood rushing to her head. “Cal?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Please put me down.”
“In a minute.” He headed out into the foyer, moving carefully in deference to her pregnancy. He’d hooked one of his arms behind her knees to hold her in place, and he patted the back of one bare thigh as he mounted the stairs. “Just stay real still, now, and everything’ll be fine.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re paying the Evil Queen a visit.”
“Evil queen? What are you talking about? Put me down!”
They reached the top of the stairs. “Quiet, now. I have to concentrate real hard so I don’t turn too fast and slam that head of yours right into the wall, givin’ you a nasty concussion that would lower your IQ to somewhere in the vicinity of human and make you beh
ave like a reasonable human being.”
“My bedroom’s over there.”
“The Evil Queen’s this way.” He marched toward his own bedroom.
“What evil queen? What are you talking about? And put me down right this minute or I’ll scream bloody murder, then do the job for real!”
“I already hid all the electrical appliances, and I’m not taking a shower without locking you in the closet first.” He dropped his shoulder, and she found herself being lowered onto something soft. She looked up into her own reflection.
Her hair was tousled, her nightshirt twisted around her thighs, and her skin rosy. Cal stood next to the bed. He leaned forward and gazed up at the mirror mounted above the bed.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s gonna be the most naked lady of all?”
The Evil Queen! She snatched a pillow and threw it at him. “Oh, no, you don’t.” She vaulted toward the other side of the bed, only to have him grab her nightshirt and pull her back down.
“Time for good ol’ Goofy to make himself scarce so the grown-ups can play.”
“I don’t want to play with you, and don’t you dare try to pull off my nightshirt, you arrogant ass!”
The mattress sagged as he straddled her thighs. “And you’ve got a very nice one yourself, I couldn’t help but notice. What say we take a closer look?” He reached for the hem of the nightshirt.
“Don’t, Cal.” She slapped her hands down, but even as she pressed the garment to her thighs, she knew she wanted to let him take it off her. Why couldn’t she? They were married, weren’t they?
Still straddling her, he leaned back on his right calf. “You don’t seriously think we’re going to live here for three months without getting intimate.”
Her heart pounded, her body pulsed with need, and her brain cried out the truth. He didn’t have the slightest bit of affection for her. She was nothing more than a sexual convenience. She gritted her teeth. “Have you forgotten that you don’t like me?”
“True, but one thing doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the other. You don’t like me, either.”
“That’s not exactly so.”
“You do like me?”