It was Christmas Day in Santa Cruz, California, and Suzanne Leontieff had been waiting—forever, it seemed—for her lover to walk to her door, take her in his arms, and…and what?

Standing there in her lace nightgown, Suzanne blushed just thinking about it.

She was middle-aged now but more attractive than most women half her age. A true born-and-bred California girl, blond as the best of them, smart, self-assured. She had a good, solid job as a dental hygienist. Daughters as beautiful as she had been when she was their age. And Suzanne’s lover was attractive too. Wealthy, and with a full head of hair that had only just begun to go gray at the temples.

Suzanne thought it made him look dignified rather than old.

The two of them had met a few years previously, at a softball tournament in Tahoe. Both of Suzanne’s daughters played softball at the tournament level. She was forever ferrying them to tournaments. But in Tahoe she’d decided to take some time for herself. After another long day out in the bleachers, she’d wandered into a lakeside casino. There, at one of the tables, she’d met the man she would fall for—a man who would sweep her away.

They gambled together for a night, flirted, and, finally, parted. But the attraction was undeniable.

“It’s too bad you’re married…,” Suzanne said, and stared at him meaningfully.

A part of her had to have known that once she said it out loud, there’d be no going back.  

That part of her had been right.

They met the next day, and the day after that. Suzanne was separated from her own husband. Now the man she’d suddenly fallen for told her that his own marriage had taken a turn for the worse.

It wasn’t long until the man, who was now her lover, was paying for tournament trips. He paid the college tuition for one of Suzanne’s daughters. He bought Suzanne a new house in Santa Cruz—the house she was pacing around in now as she waited for him to arrive. The house had cost close to a million dollars. But her lover had paid in cash, then bought another home—a luxury condominium that they could share in Tahoe.

Suzanne’s lover took her to exclusive restaurants, bought tickets to sold-out sporting events, flew her and the girls to the West Indies for a vacation.

He’d even started an IRA in Suzanne’s name, depositing $700,000 of his own money.

This was not why she had fallen in love with the man. But, to be brutally honest, none of it had hurt his chances.

And now here he was. Ringing her doorbell. Holding an expensive bouquet and beaming.