Page 36 of First Date: Divorce (Wyoming Marriage Association #1)

K.D. turned the closet door handle and pushed.

Nothing.

She tried again. Then again, pushing harder.

“It’s locked,” she said. “From the outside. The handle still turns, but the door won’t open. There must be a—” Her fingers found the flat disk above the knob. “Deadbolt. Needs a key.”

She waited. Every guy she’d ever worked with would now reach over her, try the knob, and search for the deadbolt himself.

Eric said, “Someone locked us in, then left?”

“Maybe they went to get someone. Albert, or someone else in security.”

He was silent a moment. “Did you hear one of them … laugh?”

“Chuckle.”

“Okay, chuckle. Does that make sense if they’re going for security?”

“No.”

“Good. I thought I missed something. But if there’s nothing to miss…” His hands on her shoulders turned her so her back was against the side wall and he was against her front.

“We have to get out of here.”

He kissed her temple. Then the corner of her eye. “Let me know when you figure out how. In the meantime, there are no cameras in here.” His mouth found her cheek. Lower. The corner of her top lip. Her mouth. “Ah, there you are,” he said against her lips.

Their mouths opened to each other like they knew what they wanted.

Her tongue stroked against his, picking up a rhythm they were making together.

At last, and far, far too soon, the kiss ended.

For oxygen and sanity, she pulled back a fraction.

“We have to…”

One of his hands cradled the side of her head. The other spread at the base of her throat.

“…get out of here.”

“Someday.”

His hand slowly drew down her body, the robe opening before it, even the tie giving way as if it had been greased.

She was glad she’d kept her underwear on. Or maybe not.

He stepped in, one leg between hers. His robe was gone. Hers tangled her arms as she wrapped them around him.

His lips were on her throat, dropping lower.

“Eric.” Warning or begging?

“There is no frigid personality. There are only frigid circumstances,” he quoted between kisses. “And these aren’t frigid circumstances.”

No, they weren’t. They definitely weren’t. More like melting circumstances.

Melting the skin where his lips touched just above the line of her bra. Melting her spine. Melting her knees…

Until all that held her up was him. Her arms around his neck. His arms around her shoulders. Her breasts molding to his chest. His hips pressed against her.

Oh, yes, his hips. They definitely held her up. Because if she melted to the floor, she’d lose that contact. So no melting.

A sound.

What was that ?

Buzzing. Not like a bug. Mechanical. Distant.

Ignore it. Because Eric kissed lower. Over the fabric of her bra. Over her nipple. In another breath he would—

The buzzing sounded familiar.

But so far away. Inconsequential. Easily ignored against the dazzling, melting sensations.

“Oh, dear, Orion. They’re buzzing us.”

“Think we should open it?”

These voices came clearly — not whispering — from outside the closet.

“I’m afraid we have to. We can’t leave them locked in there for our whole session.”

The voices outside the closet were not as easily ignored as the buzzing.

Neither was the fumbling at the lock from the outside.

She and Eric stilled.

He swore softly and steadily as a click came, then the fumbling stopped.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Sorry, dears,” came Izzy’s voice from outside the closet. “We didn’t want to leave you locked in while we have our counseling. It’s open when you’re ready to leave. But no need to rush.”

*

“Why do you keep asking me about my mother,” K.D. snapped a few minutes into her final solo session with Melody. She’d made it on time, but only by arriving at the counseling room in the robe, once more securely fastened.

Melody muttered something about being pleased K.D. took an opportunity to relax.

Then she asked about K.D.’s mother.

“Aren’t you supposed to be trying to save my marriage to Eric?”

“There appears to be a connection,” Melody said evenly.

“You and Eric have a bond. Oh, sometimes you try to subvert it with shows of anger or indifference, but it’s there.

The wall you’ve built between the two of you — both of you have built — concerns children and family.

Your feelings about those issues come back to your mother.

Tell me, how does your mother feel about your marriage to Eric? ”

Not something they’d covered.

“She can’t understand why I don’t think being a wife is the highest achievement possible when I have her great marriage to my stepfather Mark as a shining example.”

She recalled her conversation with the women of Far Hills Ranch the day before the wedding. The conversation about mothers with Ellyn, Rebecca, and Kendra. No doubt her statement fell well short of the understanding those three women urged, but at least it filled the silence.

“Is there abuse in your mother’s relationship?”

“Not physical.”

“Emotional?”

She considered that. “Not that I know of, but she won’t think or act for herself.”

“Maybe she was tired of thinking and acting for herself. Maybe she was tired of making decisions. Maybe this feels safe and comfortable to her.”

What if your mother loves him? What if their marriage gives them both what they want? Isn’t that what a marriage should be?

She wasn’t aware she was crying until Melody pressed a tissue in her hand.

*

K.D. was subdued through dinner and the rest of the routine. What Eric didn’t know was if she was beating herself up over not having all the answers about Marriage-Save or for nearly making love with him in the closet.

In bed, he reached toward her, making sure it wouldn’t be obvious on a hypothetical recording.

It seemed like a long time before she reached back so their hands connected.

“Talked to Izzy and Orion later.” Interesting to talk without moving your lips. He’d never be a ventriloquist, but understandable.

She made a sort of humming sound he interpreted as confirmation she was listening.

“Didn’t get more on their backgrounds, but they did explain that they locked us in because they thought we needed a nudge.

Felt bad for interrupting us before. They were canoodling — their word — on the loveseat in an empty office down the hall and heard us passing. Followed to see what was happening.

“When they came in and we weren’t there, they realized we had to be in the closet. They decided to, uh, play cupid. Said that’s their favorite closet. More room for creativity.”

This sound from her was more choked.

She put her face into her pillow, and her shoulders shook. If the camera’s motion detector picked it up, it would look like crying.

But he thought it was laughter. Mostly, anyway.

He held onto her hand, his fingers tracing the pattern of the rings on her left hand.