height, but Joe’s shoulders were wider, his chest broad and muscled even in middle age. His hands felt strong, sturdy and ridiculously tempting as they traveled her body.
She reached behind her to pull down the covers and sank back on the bed. Joe followed, but instead of covering her with his body, he knelt over her as if he was afraid to actually touch her in any intimate way.
Mariella had been faithful to Harrison all the years of her marriage. She’d never once been tempted to stray. And while people still lauded her beauty, she wasn’t twenty-five anymore. Her body showed signs of age that could no longer be camouflaged by expensive creams or trips to either the best dermatologists in Beverly Hills or Luc’s exclusive plastic surgery clinic.
For a moment, embarrassment washed over her. How could she be here exposing her fifty-five-year-old body to a man who hadn’t known what she looked like in her prime? It was one thing to grow old alongside someone, but when it was so new...
Then she glanced up to Joe’s face—to the man she’d known as long as she’d known her husband—and her breath caught. There were no words that could describe the mix of desire and possessiveness revealed in his eyes.
“You make me feel like I’m fifteen again,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
She took one of his big hands in hers. Her heart leaped to find that his fingers trembled as she lifted it and placed it over her breast.
“Mariella,” he murmured, and her name on his lips was beautiful. He leaned in and claimed her mouth again. As he did, his thumb grazed her sensitive nipple.
Her body grew heavy, and a moan rose in her throat. The noise—both blessed and damned—jolted her back to reality. She was on the verge of inviting a man who wasn’t her husband into her bed.
The lusty moan turned into a strangled cry as she wrenched herself away and rushed toward the dresser on the opposite wall, pulling up her bathing suit straps as she moved.
“Mariella,” he said again, and this time it was a plea.
“I can’t,” she said on a sob, fighting back tears. She would not cry. This was wrong. She was a married woman. Joe was Harrison’s best friend. It had to be the stress they were under, she told herself, although she knew it was a lie.
Pulling in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and turned to face Joe. His tie was loosened and askew. Several buttons of his shirt were undone, the hem untucked where she’d yanked it from his suit pants. Even now the glimpse of his bare chest made her mouth go dry.
“I’m a horrible person,” she whispered and held up a hand as Joe took a step toward her. “Don’t,” she told him. “When you touch me, I forget everything except how I feel. I’m a married woman. What was I thinking?”
He ran a hand through his hair, leaving the ends sticking up at adorable angles that made her want to smooth her fingers over them. But it wasn’t her place. Joe Reynolds didn’t belong to her, and she sure as hell didn’t belong to him.
“You weren’t thinking,” he told her gently. “You said the word that describes this. You were feeling, Mariella. And following your heart.” His voice lowered as he added, “I know where my heart lies, and it’s with you.”
She shook her head, unwilling to admit the truth in his words. “That’s crazy. I love my husband, and he’s injured. He needs me more than ever.” He only continued to study her. “Did you hear me? I said I love him.”
“I know you do,” he answered after a moment, slowly buttoning his shirt. “But he doesn’t deserve you, sweetheart. He never did.”
Mariella sniffed. “Harrison does his best.” In truth, they still made love often. But as for passion...well, they weren’t newlyweds anymore.
Joe moved toward her slowly, as if approaching a caged animal. Mariella wasn’t sure whether to be moved by the care with which he treated her or offended that he thought her weak enough to need kid gloves.
“I don’t want to pressure you.” He reached for her hand, lifted her fingers to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on each knuckle. “The last thing I want is to cause you pain.”
“I know,” she assured him, her heart stammering at the reverence in his touch. “You’ve been my rock through all of this, Joe. You’re a good friend. You always have been.”
“I want to be there for you, Mariella.” He squeezed her fingers. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You know that, right?”
“This has been an emotional time. I understand—”
“Do you?” he interrupted, his blue eyes piercing her with their intensity. “I’ve always loved you. Always wanted you.”
His declaration pounded against her head like a tidal wave. She tried to take a step away, but he held fast to her hand.
“My feelings can’t be a surprise. From the start—”
“I was with Harrison,” Mariella interrupted.
One side of Joe’s mouth quirked, not quite a smile. Something infinitely softer. Sadder. “Do you remember the first time Harrison and I met you?”
“Of course. I was out with my girlfriends. I couldn’t believe it when Harrison approached the group and singled me out.”
“You were wearing an aqua dress with a pleated skirt and a black belt. You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”
Mariella laughed. “That dress was my absolute favorite. I can’t believe you remember it.”
“I remember everything about that night,” Joe said softly, “especially the fact that my best friend saw that I wanted the beautiful girl with the long, shiny hair and luminous brown eyes and made his move on her before I even got to the courage to say hello.”
“Joe.”
“I was shy and awkward with women.” He flashed a smile. “Some things never change. Harrison was always a ladies’ man. He had charm oozing from every pore.”
“Some things never change,” Mariella murmured.
“But he couldn’t get over the advantages I had because of my family and education. It became a sport for him to best me where he could.” He lifted her hand again and placed a tender kiss on the inside of her palm then released his grip on her. “You were something special. He and I both recognized it from the start.”
Mariella pressed her fingers to her chest, unable to hide her shock. “You’ve been his friend all these years.”
“Harrison Marshall can’t change who he is any more than a great white shark can stop its instinct to hunt,” Joe said with a shrug. “Anyone who knows your husband loves him despite his flaws. He’s like fire on a bitter-cold winter’s night, and it’s almost impossible to walk away from that kind of heat.”
“Yes,” she agreed before her gaze strayed to the bed with its rumpled covers. She’d had that comforter custom made in Italy five years ago when she’d been trying to reignite the spark in her marriage because she and Harrison become so busy with the business and rarely saw each other.
As if expensive bedding and Egyptian cotton sheets would be enough when they both continued to work nonstop creating their empire. She still loved her husband. He’d swept her off her feet when she’d been a girl of twenty-three, reeling from the heartbreak of her first love’s betrayal. But after thirty-two years, their marriage had begun to feel more like a business partnership than a true love match.
Joe massaged his jaw between his fingers, as if her admission of Harrison’s magnetism was a physical blow. “I apologize if I misread the situation. The last thing in the world I want is to hurt you. Already I—”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” she assured him.
“I