Chapter Eight

      “Bethany tells me you’re being considered for a promotion of significant prestige.”

      Tony Petrocelli found himself removing his hand from his pocket and standing up straighter before he nodded at the petite, middle-aged woman wearing a pastel-colored dress and a single strand of pearls. “I’m not so sure about the prestige, Mrs. Bower, but I am being considered for a promotion to head of obstetrics.”

      “Every time you call me Mrs. Bower,” Beth’s mother admonished, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his arm, “you remind me of Winston’s mother, whom I called Mrs. Bower for the first five years of our acquaintance. Please, call me Katherine.”

      Tony did a double take at her wink, then released a deep chuckle. The sound drew several family members’ gazes, as if they weren’t accustomed to sudden bursts of laughter during their family parties. Within seconds, Beth’s sister drew Katherine into conversation, and Beth’s father, Winston Bower III, and her brother-in-law, MacKenzie Nelson, returned to their lawyer talk on the other side of the room.

      Beth had warned him that her family was a little stuffy. Stuffy, hell. They were bona fide snobs. And Katherine ranked at the top of the genteel heap. But she had a sense of humor, dry though it might be, and a haughtiness he wouldn’t have minded pitting against the queen of England, not to mention a smile that reminded him of his new wife.

      Beth entered the room, a sterling silver tray containing fancy little sandwiches in her hands. She graciously offered one to Winston and Mac, smiling at something her father said. It was strange, but Tony sensed love between these family members, just not closeness.

      They were a far cry from the Petrocellis, that was for sure. His family hadn’t been able to wait to meet their soon-to-be adopted son, Christopher. The Bowers had yet to see him. Beth had offered to wake him and bring him down, but Katherine had declined, saying that she couldn’t fathom disturbing a sleeping child. The Bowers were polite, well mannered and well-bred. Now that he’d met them, Tony understood where Beth had acquired her class. He also understood the reason she’d been running on nervous energy these past few days, trying to make everything perfect for tonight. As far as he was concerned, she’d nearly outdone herself. She’d served wine in fluted stemware and had stacked cubes of fine cheese and hors d’oeuvres on gleaming silver and sparkling crystal trays. He’d never seen her looking more elegant. Or nervous.

      Candles flickered on the mantel, threading her auburn hair with gold and honey. A lamp behind her shone through the hem of her ivory-colored dress, delineating the curve of her knee and the edge of a lacy slip. These past few days, Tony had discovered that his wife had a passion for pretty underclothes. He had a passion for removing them.

      It didn’t matter that this marriage started out as a contract, with Tony needing a wife to get a promotion, and Beth needing a husband to adopt Christopher. A connection neither expected was getting stronger, and no one knew where it would take them, but they were both enjoying the ride.

      Beth glanced across the room, sending him a tremulous smile. For a moment, her innermost feelings played across her face, making him doubt that he was the only one who had sex on his mind. Desire roused inside him, and suddenly he thought of one way to chase away her nerves. Something told him the Bowers would look askance at him if he swung his new wife into his arms and carried her upstairs. But it would definitely liven things up.

      Beth shook her