As he pinched her nipple and tunneled back into the tight channel, he panted at the back of her neck, “Come!”

Her world exploded like a supernova again. Tears of relief and release burst forth. Luc had devastated her, scraped her raw. And still, he kept at her, thick and hard and demanding as tears streamed down her cheeks, until she possessed no more buffers between her husband and her battered heart.

Chapter Fourteen

THE Sunday following their wedding, Alyssa leaned against the doorjamb of the master bedroom and watched Luc pack the last of his suitcase. She’d lived alone for a decade or more. Solitude had always been a comfort. Luc had moved into her house the day after their wedding. It was logical, given that, between his upcoming TV show and his appearances, he’d be traveling, while she was tied to Lafayette by the club and the restaurant. But him living in her personal space, her making room in her closet, bathroom, and drawers, all seemed weird. He was neater than her. And he ironed, which was a big bonus. But for the first few days, she’d felt invaded—home, body, and heart.

Now, watching him prepare to leave, Alyssa had to swallow down sadness. She was going to miss Luc, probably more than she should. She’d grown accustomed to seeing him in Bonheur’s kitchens, watching over her during Sexy Sirens’ wee hours. Two days ago, his publicist had released the news of their wedding. Since then, Luc had whisked her to her car each night, tightly holding her against his side. She’d gotten used to him fixing her a light snack before bed, his comforting presence beside her as she slept, inevitably waking to his delicious, addicting touch and the way he kept her on orgasm overload.

All that would be gone for the next two weeks. Of course it wasn’t the end of the world, but somehow being away from him made her jittery and anxious.

“I’ll call you when I get in,” he promised.

“Thanks.”

“You’re feeling okay today?”

Alyssa nodded. “A little tired, but that’s normal.”

“Don’t work too hard. Sadie’s watching you for me.”

“She’s a tattletale.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a mock pout.

“Which is why I chose her to keep me informed.” Luc zipped up his suitcase and set it on the floor. “I’ll be back to spend Thanksgiving week with you and go to your doctor appointment the following week.”

The first meeting with her obstetrician. The first time to hear her baby’s heartbeat. “I appreciate you being here for me to lean on.”

He crossed the room and took her face in his hands. Determined dark eyes bored into her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

God, when he spoke to her, in that voice, with that concern on his face, he absolutely melted her. He must know that.

“Before I go, I have something for you.”

She stared, all frowns and confusion as he turned away and pulled something out from behind his briefcase, which leaned against the wall. It was a box roughly the size of a loaf of bread, wrapped in thick foil paper that shimmered with small silver scallops. An elegant white bow topped the gift.

Luc handed it to her. “It’s a belated wedding gift.”

“A gift? You didn’t have to—”

“But I wanted to.”

Swallowing down a lump of emotion, she removed the bow and tore through the wrapping paper to reveal a plain brown box. After wrestling with the cardboard, she pulled out the contents and gasped. Inside was a picture frame in the shape of two silver rings entwined. On the left, a picture of her in her wedding dress. On the right, a picture of their wedding kiss. In the middle, where the two rings overlapped, he’d had their first names and their wedding date engraved.

“It’s gorgeous!”

She almost choked on a mixture of gratitude and love. Their marriage wasn’t perfect. They were still getting to know each other. But Luc was trying. She was still holding back. Then again, sometimes she caught him staring at her, sometimes he thought too long before he answered her, and she sensed that maybe he was too . . .

“You like it?”

Tears threatened, and she tried to blink them away. “I love it. Thank you.”

Luc took it from her hands. “I thought maybe you could put it here, on the dresser.” He set it on the long, rectangular piece on the wall opposite the bed. “That way, while I’m gone, you could look at it.”

And think of me. He didn’t say the words, but Alyssa heard them. Why would he ask unless he cared, at least a little? How could she refuse him?

“That’s perfect,” she murmured, making her way to his side and wrapping her hand around the steely strength of his biceps.

He turned her into his arms. Softly, he kissed her mouth, and like every other time Luc touched her, she found her will dissolving. He made her warm and weak, enthralled her completely.

With a grunt of frustration, he pulled away. “If I do any more of that, I won’t make my flight. I can just see me trying to explain that I missed the first taping because I couldn’t manage to stop fucking my wife.”

She laughed. She’d done so little of that in years. Luc was one incredibly sexy man, but living with him now . . . she was beginning to see a whole side of his humor that added a dimension to her attraction.

Every day, she fell a bit more. So damn dangerous, this bottomless pit of feeling. And still, she couldn’t stop.

“I don’t need anyone blaming me for anything else. I’ve already got half the women of Lafayette pissed at me. Don’t start dragging California bigwigs into the snake pit.”

Luc smiled vaguely before his expression settled into something serious. “I have to say something before I go. Peter’s been quiet since he’s been out on bail.”

“I hope his daddy has a tight leash on him now.”

“If anything scares you—anything—don’t hesitate to call me.”

“You’ll be two thousand miles away. I’ll manage. I’m wearing my big-girl panties.”

“For big-girl panties, they always seem very . . . small.” He leered, brushing a hand up under her skirt and cupping her bare cheek, then sighed. “And I know you’re self-sufficient. Photographers have been a little annoying in the last few days, but I’m sure they’ll follow me to L.A., rather than stay here to hound you. Still, if you have any trouble, call me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she mocked.

“Am I being overprotective?” He winced.

“A touch.”

He sighed. “I’ll try to back off. But . . . call me if you need to. Or want to.”

“I will. But I’ll be fine. The baby will be fine. Bonheur, Sexy Sirens . . . fine. It’s only two weeks.”

“Right.” He ran his hands through her hair, then palmed her nape. “Miss me?”

Like mad. He hadn’t left yet, and his absence was already a gaping hole in her heart.

Alyssa didn’t trust her voice, didn’t trust that she wouldn’t reveal too much. She simply nodded.

“And I’ll miss you,” he whispered against her lips.

Then, after an all-too-brief kiss, he was gone. She was left staring at his incredible gift through her stinging, watery gaze, almost afraid to be this happy. What if it didn’t last?

BY Wednesday at four a.m., she was frazzled. The crowd at Sexy Sirens had been unusually rowdy tonight. She’d fended off more male octopi than she cared to count. Her two blessings were that Tyler never left her side, and Peter, who’d started lurking around the club again on Monday, had apparently been picked up for a DUI early this afternoon so he was back in County—and out of her hair.

Now home, she dragged herself through the front door. After not sleeping well since Luc’s departure and the baby sapping all her vitamins, she needed a good eight hours’ sleep. But damn, it was cold in here. She’d have to turn on the heater pronto.

When she turned to disable her burglar alarm, she saw it had been smashed with a sledgehammer. There was nothing left to disable.

Plastic pieces were strewn across the floor. Wires dangled from the panel. The air in her house felt violated, just like her club and office at Bonheur once had. Why the hell had she insisted to Tyler that she didn’t need him to escort her home?

She didn’t dare go upstairs alone. In fact, she needed to get out of the house now.

Stepping back out into the dark morning, Alyssa reached for her cell phone. Tyler answered on the first ring.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone broke into my house.”

Tyler swore, an ugly string of curses that made her wince. “I’m still in my truck. I’ll be there in less than five. Call the police. Now.”

Whispering her agreement, she hung up the phone, and shivered in the November chill. It had gotten too cold for her short skirts, and she wished she’d brought a coat. She had wonderfully warm clothes in her closet upstairs . . . but she’d rather freeze than risk going up there alone.

The 911 dispatcher answered quickly, and Alyssa gave her name and address, and described the break-in, at least as much as she knew about it.

Should she call Luc now or wait until a more reasonable hour? It was two in the morning in L.A., and his taping always began so early each morning, he’d be sound asleep.

Before she could decide, Tyler pulled into her driveway with a growl of his engine and threw the truck in park. He climbed out and grabbed her shoulders, dragging her against him. “Are you all right?”

“Shaken. Not hurt.”

“And cold.”

Swearing, he reached inside the truck, then wrapped his coat around her. Alyssa sighed at the sudden warmth, but her relief was short-lived.

“Show me what you found,” Tyler demanded.

“Shouldn’t we let Remy and the boys in there for a look first?” Honestly, she just didn’t want to see what else the intruder had done to her house.

“You mean preserve the crime scene because they’re such fabulous investigators?” Razor blades had nothing on the sharpness of his sarcasm. “I want to see the scene for myself before they fuck it up.”

“Did you used to—?”

“Yeah. I won’t have time to examine the scene closely before they barge in, but I can look.” He pulled out a pair of leather gloves from the truck. “Let’s make this quick.”

Alyssa’s insides shook as she led Tyler back in the house. The questions about his past could wait.

Inside the dim interior, she flipped on the foyer light, as she’d done when she first entered the house. Tyler looked at the alarm panel, studying it with a clenched jaw. “Fuck. Was this as far as you got in the house before leaving?”

“I was too afraid to stay, in case the pissed-off intruder was still here with his friend, Mr. Hammer.”

“Especially if he also brought other friends, like Misters Knife or Gun,” Tyler muttered grimly. “Good girl.”

From the back of his waistband, Tyler pulled out a nasty semiautomatic. Alyssa stared, wide-eyed.

“Where did you get that?”

“My truck. I don’t make a production about the fact I have it. Stay behind me,” he instructed as he made his way up the dark stairs.

He shouldered open the first door on the left, the guest room, and flipped on the light. “Anything look disturbed?”

Alyssa peeked over his shoulder. Everything looked exactly as she’d left it that afternoon. In fact, it had a vaguely stale smell, as if no one had opened the door in weeks, which was true.

Tyler extinguished the light and rolled his shoulders, as if trying to get calm. He crept toward her exercise room, gun drawn. The door was still wide-open, as it had been after she’d finished her morning workout.

Inside, he groped around for the light switch. A moment later, soft overhead light illuminated the space. Everything was the same: punching bag dangling from the ceiling, stair climber, free weights. Even the remnants of this morning’s bottle of water remained on the windowsill.

“Nothing,” she murmured.

“Good.” He sighed as he switched off the light, clearly trying to find his calm.

“Maybe when the alarm went off, he smashed it in frustration, then took off.” But even as she said the words, she knew that someone had been up here. She felt it—and the resulting fear.

Tyler just grimaced, as if he didn’t want to scare her with the truth.

She chewed on her bottom lip nervously. “I don’t know why it didn’t alert the police.”

“I’m going guess this asshole snipped your phone line before he broke into your house, cutting your connection to the police.” Tyler sounded grim. “If you don’t have detectors on your windows, he probably cut a hole in the glass and climbed in.”

“Which is why it’s so cold in the house.” Nausea slid through her.

“Exactly. Then he probably disabled the audible alarm system in your attic. That way, no matter what he did next, he never had to worry about alerting your neighbors. Then I’ll bet he pounded your alarm panel just for fun.”