Triple Dare. Regina Kyle
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Cade loosened up. He was a natural, better than some of the models she’d worked with. And Bilbo was a regular feline ham, mugging it up like he was born to be in front of the camera.
They were quite the pair. Women would go gaga over them.
Over him.
Ivy snapped the lens cap on the camera with more force than necessary, trying to ignore the ugly pang of resentment that started in her stomach and yanked at her heart.
“Okay.” She returned the camera to the tripod and reached for the cat. “I think we’ve got what we need. And Bilbo has to get back to the shelter before closing time.”
“I can bring him.” Cade stood, his hold tightening on the wriggling kitten. “It’s on my way.”
“Your way to what?” She swiped a stray, sweat-dampened hair off her cheek and went to lower the thermostat. “The firehouse is in the opposite direction.”
“I’m not on duty tonight. I’ve got a date.”
“Your Gibson’s girl with the banging...math skills?”
He whipped off the Santa hat and pressed it to his chest in mock horror. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”
“Since when are you a gentleman?” She took the cat from him and pushed him toward the changing screen in the corner. “Go get dressed. I’ll put Bilbo in his carrier so you can drop him off and be on time for your hot date.”
And she could get back to her dad and the nursery and quit fantasizing about God’s gift to womankind.
As if.
“SHE’S BEAUTIFUL, HOLS.” Ivy looked down at her infant niece and brushed a knuckle over one alabaster cheek. “A perfect little angel.”
“Sure, now that she’s sleeping.” Holly sank into the Adirondack chair next to Ivy’s, stretched out her legs and ran her toes through the grass. “How is it I rock her for hours without success yet you hold her for two seconds and she’s out like a light?”
Ivy frowned at the dark circles under her sister’s eyes. Anyone else in Holly’s position—Broadway playwright, married to a movie star—would have hired someone to plan her daughter’s christening. Turned it into a media event. But not Holly. She’d insisted on doing everything herself and keeping it small, just family and a few close friends.
“Auntie’s magic touch, I guess.” Ivy tucked the lemon-yellow fleece blanket under her niece’s tiny chin. It might be spring, but evenings were cool in Connecticut, even with a blaze roaring in the fire pit.
“Too bad you’re not around more. I could use a bit of that magic every now and then.”
Holly’s husband, Nick, came up behind her and dropped a kiss on her upturned forehead. “How’s that for magic?”
“It’s a start.” Holly pulled him back down to her and kissed him soundly.
Ivy’s heartstrings tugged as she watched them, immersed in each other, clearly ass-over-teakettle in love. Not that she begrudged Holly her happiness. Her sister deserved it after everything her sleazeball ex-husband put her through. But part of Ivy—the part that wondered how much longer she could go on globe-trotting—couldn’t help wanting a little of that happiness for herself.
She hid her melancholy with a lukewarm chuckle. “Would you two get a room already?”
Nick came up for air and waved an arm at the rambling clapboard house across the lawn. “We’ve got ten of them. We just have to get rid of our guests.”
“How about we get Joy in her crib first? She’s had a long day, and it’s awfully chilly out here.”
Holly started to stand but Nick stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Relax. I’ve got her. You’ve done enough today.”
“I still can’t believe you kept Dad’s name thing going,” Ivy said, shaking her head at her sister. Their father loved Christmas and had played Santa in the local holiday parade for as long as anyone could remember. He’d given his children names reminiscent of the season: Holly, Ivy, Gabriel and Noelle. It had been a constant source of embarrassment as kids. And now Holly and Nick had followed suit with Joy.
“Did we really have a choice?” Holly exchanged a knowing look with her husband. “I mean, I married a guy with the same name as St. Nicholas.”
“And Joy was born on Christmas Eve.” Nick took the sleeping baby from Ivy’s arms. Joy stirred briefly, then settled into her father’s embrace.
“Why not Eve, then?”
“Too obvious. We were going for something more subtle.” Holly swiveled her head to watch Nick as he strode up the lawn toward the house. “Send Devin down,” she called after him. “And tell her to bring the stuff for the s’mores. It’s on the counter next to the stove.”
“Sure thing.” He disappeared into the increasing darkness.
“Too bad Noelle couldn’t stay for dessert.” Ivy stared across the grass to the dock jutting out over Leffert’s Pond. A rowboat bobbed at the end, partially obscuring the moon’s reflection in the calm, glasslike water. For the second time in as many minutes, she felt a twinge of envy toward her sister. Great guy. Great kid. Great house.
“I know,” Holly agreed. “She had to get back to the city for an early rehearsal tomorrow.”
“Mom finally get Dad out the door?”
“Yeah. I’m surprised he held out as long as he did. We offered to postpone the christening, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Stubborn Swede.” Holly gave a halfhearted shrug and tipped her head skyward.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Cade should be here any minute.”
Ivy barely stopped herself from bolting upright. She hadn’t seen Cade since he’d walked out of her studio two weeks ago. She continued to gaze out at the lake, her face an impassive mask. She hoped. “I thought you said he was on call.”
“Only until seven o’clock. That’s why he missed the ceremony. But he promised to stop by when he got off.”
Ivy closed her eyes against the image of Cade “getting off.” In the shower, head thrown back, one arm braced against the tile as he stroked himself to completion. In her bed, over her, under her, in her, until they both collapsed, exhausted but satisfied.
Damn. She thought she had it bad before. Seeing him nearly naked had sent her off the high dive into an ocean of lust.
“Are you okay? You look flushed.”
“I’m fine.” Ivy put a hand to her face. Red-hot. “A little too close to the fire, I guess.” She fanned herself. Like that was going to douse the inferno raging inside her.
“Rumor has it you got to see him in his birthday suit.” Holly leaned forward. “Is he as scrumptious as I think he is?”
“First off, he was not ‘in his birthday suit.’” Ivy put air quotes around the last four words. “He was wearing a thong.”
“That much, huh?” Holly snickered.
Ivy ignored her and played with the zipper on her hoodie. “Second, it was all business.”
“Some business.”
“And third, you’re married to People’s sexiest man alive. What do you care how Cade or any other guy looks naked?”
“Married. Not dead. I can still appreciate a fine male form.” Holly leaned in farther, resting her elbows on her knees. “So come on. Spill. How fine is he?”
Ivy let out a slow, resigned sigh. She hadn’t won an argument with her big sister in years, and