Ian had been more than a little surprised when he’d met Peter Lockwood for the first – and only – time at last year’s office Christmas party. Given that Tessa was such a knockout, he’d fully expected her husband to be a tall, well-built and equally good-looking young man. Instead, Peter had been a bit shorter than his wife, boyishly slim, and no more than average looking. It had been very obvious that he was uncomfortable at such a formal event, and certainly not used to dressing up. As Ian recalled, Peter had worn ill-fitting, mismatched trousers and jacket, a wrinkled shirt and skinny tie. His light brown hair had been on the longish side, secured back in a short ponytail, and one of his ears had been pierced.
Tessa’s husband had been so completely unlike what Ian had imagined him to look like that it had been a struggle to contain his shock when she had briefly introduced them. Still, Tessa had seemed entirely devoted to him, sticking to his side like glue, and listening intently to his every word.
Ian had been almost overwhelmed with jealousy that night, and he’d had more to drink than was usual for him. But no amount of alcohol had dimmed the empty ache in his heart as he’d watched Tessa hold hands or link arms with Peter. He’d been consumed with envy over a pale, skinny boy who had somehow managed to claim the most beautiful girl Ian had ever seen.
That was the only time he’d ever seen Tessa’s husband, and he had learned from Andrew that Peter was out of the country a great deal for his job. Ian thought passionately that if Tessa was his there was no way in hell he’d leave her alone for even two or three days, much less weeks.
His traitorous thoughts refused to let go of the memory of how it had felt – albeit very briefly – to have her lush body pressed up against his earlier today. His arm still burned from where one round, firm breast had been crushed against it. If he closed his eyes he could still feel the warm, silky skin of her arm where his hand had wrapped around it to steady her. He could smell the delicate, barely perceptible scent of her perfume or soap, a light, fleeting fragrance and not some overpoweringly strong odor. He’d been close enough to notice the charming blush on her cheeks, the wide roundness of her china blue eyes, and the way that decadently full mouth had trembled slightly. He didn’t know if she was physically attracted to him, or simply terrified, but she had definitely been aware. The knowledge of her reaction to him had given him a least a small measure of satisfaction.
‘What an ass you are, mate,’ he chastised himself. ‘So pathetically grateful for any imagined little reaction from her. You’re ten times worse than a schoolgirl with a mad crush on her favorite movie star. And just as hopeless.’
***
The feeling that something bad was going to happen had gradually subsided as the day went on, and by the time Tessa got off the bus two blocks from her apartment, she was very nearly convinced that her premonitions had been all wrong. This was in spite of the fact that she hadn’t received any sort of text or phone message from Peter confirming that he’d arrived home safely. She had reasoned that oddity away by assuring herself that he was undoubtedly exhausted after such a long flight, and had probably fallen asleep as soon as he’d walked in the door.
And then any worries she might have still been harboring flew away the moment she walked through the door of their apartment. The sound of one of Peter’s favorite songs – Hemorrhage by Fuel – greeted her as she dropped her purse and slipped out of her shoes, leaving them by the tiny entryway table as was her norm.
“Hey, Tess.”
Tessa smiled broadly and rushed to give her husband an eager hug. “Hey, yourself. I was starting to worry when I didn’t hear from you. What time did you get in?”
Peter gave her a quick hug in return and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I actually arrived in early this morning. We probably just missed each other.”
Her smile faded rapidly as he gently disengaged her arms from about his neck. “What? I had no idea you were getting in so early. Why didn’t you let me know?”
He shrugged, the shaggy, uneven ends of his light brown hair now long enough to reach his shoulders. “I was flying standby and literally didn’t get on the flight until the last minute, so no time to text you before I left. And then when I got here I was pretty wiped out, I guess, plus I had some stuff to take care of. Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” she assured him. “It’s just – I’ve been a little unsettled today. I woke up with one of those weird premonitions – you know, it is a Wednesday after all. And I always worry when you have a long flight home from some of those places you travel to.”