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same kind of “professional” distance that men like Robert expected. He’d talk to you about the weather, your interests, where you were from—that sort of thing. And sure, he probably stole a few excited glances of me in my two-piece.
    That was to be expected. Guys the world over checked women out, not caring if they were married or not. And wasn’t that supposed to be the perk of having a beautiful woman on your arm—that other men were openly envious of your catch?
    Unfortunately for Richard, Robert had been so offended by his “lack of professionalism” that he’d complained to the hotel. There was no way that management wanted to risk losing any of their high-end customers, especially not Robert Kolstad, so Richard had been made to apologize to me and Robert—and then he’d been fired.
    “Our waiter was nothing but courteous and professional,” I said.
    “He’s lucky I didn’t speak to the manager.”
    “I’m glad you didn’t.”
    “I’m sure you are.”
    I sighed. “Robert, can you just let it go? Please, you’re making an issue where there is none.”
    He had never been jealous. Not early in our relationship, anyway. But in the last few years, I think, as the realization that he was getting older, while I was still comparatively a young woman, hit him, he had become far less secure in our marriage.
    That had to be the reason for his odd behavior. Which was why I felt he needed something else to make him feel more secure. Something that would show I loved him and was committed to him.
    A baby. I wanted a baby more than anything.
    “Maybe I did overreact,” he admitted. “I guess I need to accept that I have a wife most men would love to steal from me.”
    Then don’t push me away, I thought silently. It was a sentiment I’d felt more than once over the last year—that Robert’s behavior was eroding the relationship we had. There were other men out there, maybe someone who was perfect for me.
    Like the man with the hazel eyes who had come into my shop a couple weeks before.
    But I said to Robert, “I’m not going anywhere.”
    “Good.” He paused a beat. “Shall we go to the country club?”
    “Sure,” I said. You got your way again.
     
    When I was out of town or on vacation, and anyone asked me where I lived, I always said Charlotte. ButRobert and I actually lived just north of Charlotte in an exclusive community called The Peninsula. Situated on Lake Norman, The Peninsula was a country-club community with so much to do, you didn’t have to go anywhere else if you didn’t want to. There was a yacht club, a championship golf course, swimming, tennis. Casual and fine dining. We were members of both The Peninsula Yacht Club and The Peninsula Club. Though we had our own pool at home, we sometimes used the pool at the yacht club when we socialized.
    On most days, Robert could be found on the greens at The Peninsula Club. It was his home away from home. We ate there much of the time when we chose to dine out, which was why I had wanted to try someplace different.
    But that’s where we went, and Robert was a much happier man. After a casual dinner and a couple of drinks, we headed home—where I still hoped to end the night the way I had originally planned.
    I tried to get Robert in the mood after we pulled up in front of the house. Reaching across the seat, I lazily skimmed my fingertips over his hand before taking it in mine.
    Robert squeezed my fingers in return. Then he met my eyes.
    I stared at the man I had married. He was getting older, yes, but he was still so distinguished. Still looked like Harry Belafonte, a man who no matter how old he got would always be attractive.
    “I love you,” I told him. “Only you.”
    Robert’s mouth curled in a small smile, one thingthat despite the years was as dazzling as it had been the first day I met him.
    Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to his. A lingering kiss that said we would continue this in our bedroom.
    “I love you, too,