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whiny shrew. The marriage tanks.”
    “God, Hannah. You paint a lovely picture.”
    She wriggled to her feet and starting stretching in a yoga position. “You know I’m right.”
    He leaned back on his hands, his legs outstretched. “So you think that when we burn ourselves out in the bedroom we’ll have nothing left?”
    She peered at him from between her legs, her red face upside down. “Well, I hope not. But that’s the point. If we’ve worked through some other stuff, we won’t be blinded by hot sex and unable to see the pitfalls.”
    He rolled his neck, feeling the noose tighten. What had possessed him to give her that stupid magazine? “Exactly what would this counseling entail? I sure as hell am not going to lie on a couch and talk about my sex life.”
    She bounced to her feet and stretched toward the ceiling. “Not even if I’m the one pretending to be the doctor?”
    He paused a moment to imagine Hannah wearing a white lab coat and nothing else. Not a bad image. In fact, it made him damned hot. With an effort, he dragged his attention back to the present. “And forget about two-way mirrors. I’m not a sexual lab rat, either.”
    She bent at the waist and placed her palms flat on the floor. “I’m sure it’s nothing so weird. All the couples in the magazine said it transformed their relationships. They gushed, in fact.”
    He scowled. “I like our relationship just the way it is.”
    She finished her bouncing and stretching and plopped down on top of him, straddling his lap. She caught his face between her hands. “Okay. It was just an idea. Besides, I don’t see us getting tired of each other anytime in the near future. We’ll just keep on screwing like rabbits and hope for the best.”
    She punctuated that thought by nibbling his ear and then working her way down his neck. She hit a sensitive spot, and his erection bobbed and swelled. She was wearing a tiny pair of shorts, and feeling her long, bare legs hugging his hips made him the equivalent of a slobbering dog. How was he supposed to form a coherent thought when all he wanted to do was get inside her?
    He took off her blouse and sighed in appreciation when her breasts, completely unfettered, snuggled into his palms. He thumbed the nipples, tugging them lightly and pinching until Hannah whimpered.
    Then, taking her by surprise, he rolled her to her back, coming down on top of her and pinning her to the carpet. His shoulder caught the corner of the coffee table, but he barely registered the pain. She smiled at him, that wide flashing grin as familiar to him now as his own face in the mirror. He grabbed the thin nylon leg of her shorts and ripped it deliberately up to the waistband. Hannah’s breath caught and her cheeks flushed. Her eyes went hazy. “Morgan . . .” She said his name on a long, groaned whisper that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
    He freed his cock and settled between her thighs. “If this is only temporary,” he muttered, “then we might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”
    Three days later, he capitulated without a fight. Not that Hannah had sulked or cajoled or any of those unfair feminine practices. She simply went about her business being . . . Hannah.
    From the moment they met, it was always the same. Everywhere she went, she lit up a room. The sun shone brighter, the music played sweeter, the air was richer. Hannah’s joie de vivre was contagious.
    He’d made the mistake one afternoon of bringing her on site at the theme park property and then had to watch all the men on his crew fall over themselves to be introduced . . . to offer her rides on heavy machinery . . . to bring her drinks and chairs and goofy grins.
    Hannah was priceless.
    So a man would have to be a fool to pass up an opportunity to seal the deal. He was almost positive that she expected him to say no to the sexual counseling. She’d brought it up to point out in some weird way that they weren’t ready to set a date.
    But Morgan