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tasted it before. Then he picks up a saber and, with classic panache, slices the top off the bottle. The cork disappears over the cliff, and the froth at the top of the bottle sprinkles the deck. Martin turns to me with a grin. “One of my favorite party tricks.”
    â€œI can see that.”
    He expertly fills the champagne flutes, and we toast each other. “To our perfect partnership,” he says.
    â€œTo The Key Ingredient ,” I say.
    The champagne is beyond delicious, the bubbles scintillating on my tongue and throat. I close my eyes, savoring that first sip. When I open my eyes, Martin sets down both our glasses, then takes my hand.
    â€œI’ve told you many times that I like the best of everything,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. “And that’s why I chose you, Annie. You’re the best.”
    The best what? Girlfriend? Producer? Partner?
    He takes a small box from his pocket. And I nearly collapse in shock. I can hardly breathe as he opens the box and takes out a glittering diamond ring. This can’t be happening. Can it? To me?
    â€œMarry me, Annie Rush. Let’s make this permanent.”
    I look down at the ring. And then up at Martin. His smile blinds me. My chest is tight, the way panic feels, and my throat heats with tears. “You’re serious,” I whisper.
    â€œI’m serious,” he agrees. “What do you say, Annie?”
    Maybe yes, maybe no.

 
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    Now
    â€œI CAN'T BELIEVE we’re arguing about a water buffalo.” Annie Rush reached up for her husband’s shirt collar, turning it neatly down.
    â€œThen let’s quit arguing,” he said. “It’s a done deal.” He sat down and shoved first one foot, then the other, into his cowboy boots—­the ridiculously expensive ones she had given him last Christmas. She’d never regretted the purchase, though, because they looked so good on him.
    â€œIt’s not a done deal. We can still cancel. The budget for the show is already stretched to the limit. And a water buffalo? It’s going to be fifteen hundred pounds of stubborn.”
    â€œC’mon, babe.” Martin stood, his blue eyes twinkling like the sun on a swimming pool. “Working with a live animal on the show will be an adventure. The viewers will love it.”
    She blew out a breath in exasperation. Married ­couples fought about the dumbest things. Who left the cap off the toothpaste? Whether it was quicker to take the Ventura Freeway or the Golden State. The number of syllables in broccoli . The optimum thermostat setting. Why he couldn’t clean his whiskers out of the sink.
    And now this. The water buffalo.
    â€œWhere in my job description does it say water-­buffalo wrangler?” she asked.
    â€œThe buffalo’s an integral part of the show.” He gathered up his keys and briefcase and went downstairs, boots ringing on the hardwood.
    â€œIt’s a crazy misuse of the production budget,” she stated, following him. “This is a cooking show, not Wild Kingdom .”
    â€œIt’s The Key Ingredient ,” he countered. “And when the ingredient of the week is mozzarella, we need a buffalo.”
    Annie gritted her teeth to keep from prolonging the fight. She reminded herself that underneath the fight was their marriage. Even at fifteen hundred pounds, the buffalo was a small thing. It was the big things that mattered—­his effortless way of chopping garlic and chives as he cooked for her. His dedication to the show they had created together. The steamy shower sex they’d had the night before.
    â€œIt’s gonna be great,” he said. “Trust me.” Slipping one arm around her waist, he claimed a brief kiss.
    Annie reached up and touched his freshly shaven cheek. The last thing she needed was a