They pulled up to the front of the restaurant and the driver quickly rounded the limo to open the car door with a flourish. This time it was Kenzie who slipped her hand into Carter’s as they approached the glass entrance of the angular wood and stone structure. Carter held the door for Kenzie to enter, pressing his hand lightly to her lower back as they took in the flickering firelight coming from the stone fireplace, and the incredible views in the dining room beyond.

“This is amazing, Carter,” Kenzie whispered, once the waitress had left them with ice water and a bread basket. She turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the sparkling lights of Seattle reflecting off the surface of Lake Union below them.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, “I appreciate it—really—but how can we afford all this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carter replied dismissively, buttering a piece of bread. He didn’t notice Kenzie’s frown at his response, and the arrival of the waitress ended the conversation for the moment.

The meal was exquisite, and enormous. Carter had only ordered a prawn appetizer for the two of them to share and Colorado lamb chops with couscous, while Kenzie opted for the sablefish with matsutake mushrooms and bok choy. However, the waitress kept bringing them other dishes to sample. When Carter protested that he hadn’t ordered them, the waitress simply smiled and said they were on the house. Foie gras, yellow fin tuna, steak tartare, gnocchi with black truffles . . . the list went on and on, and Carter soon lost track of what they’d eaten. Although he understood that this was because of the cover story Sandi had concocted about him being a food critic, Kenzie just laughed and marveled at their amazing luck. The owner of the restaurant even stopped by to make sure they were happy with their meal. He also presented them with a complimentary bottle of champagne as they enjoyed their dessert samplers of crème brulee, Grand Marnier soufflé, and some kind of doughnuts with passion fruit-vanilla cream, coconut, and macadamia nuts.

Carter briefly contemplated a change in career. How hard could it be to be a food critic, anyway?

They left the restaurant with their stomachs full, a little tipsy, and laughing at the most ridiculous things. The limo was waiting for them, and as they tumbled into the seat, Carter lost his balance, falling onto Kenzie. He found himself sprawled over her, his left knee pressed between hers and their faces so close he could feel her warm breath on his lips.

He froze, wondering if she would protest, and unable to move until he found out. She said nothing, her eyes dipping to his lips before she licked her own slowly and brought her gaze back to meet his. He leaned closer, almost near enough to taste her mouth . . . waiting to see if she would stop him.

She didn’t.

Carter cheered inwardly, the man who’d longed for Kenzie Monroe for ten long years finally breathed a sigh of relief as their lips brushed gently.

“Kenzie,” he murmured into her mouth, as she opened it on a sigh. He took it as an invitation and swept his tongue inside, shivering at the sensation as it slid sinuously along hers. She tasted of coconut and vanilla and champagne. Carter fought to not consume her, afraid he’d scare her and he’d have to stop kissing her.

He never wanted to stop.

Kenzie seemed to feel the same way. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, her hands sweeping up his arms to settle on the back of his neck, massaging him gently. He moaned at the sensation, sliding his arms underneath her to pull her more firmly against him. He was rewarded by Kenzie’s gentle whimper and the tightening of her fingers in his hair. Carter caressed her soft skin and mouthed at the tender spot beneath her ear that always used to drive her crazy.

It still did.

They made out like teenagers, all teeth and tongue and moaning and groping . . . a frenzy of champagne-fueled loss of inhibition.

“Carter . . .” Kenzie gripped his upper arm, her cheeks flushed and lips swollen with his kisses. Carter lowered his head to her neck, nuzzling and kissing a trail along her shoulder as she trembled beneath him.

As the limo came to a stop, their passion slowed, and he held her close, a heated gentleness passing through him that had less to do with lust, and everything to do with love.

Oh, how he loved her.

The door slammed and Carter realized they’d arrived at the hotel. He quickly got up, shielding Kenzie from the door as he straightened her dress, ignoring his own disheveled appearance. Her eyes drifted halfway open as a sleepy smile lit her face.

“We’re here,” he said quietly.

Kenzie blinked, then sat up just as the driver opened the passenger door. Carter took her hand with a wide smile and led her through the huge iron gates and front gardens of the Four Seasons Hotel, then under the awning and into the spacious interior.

“What are we doing here?” Kenzie asked, her face still slightly dazed, as if she’d just realized where they were. The champagne and the make-out session had evidently done a number on her.

Carter leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Wait here just a minute,” he said, before approaching the check-in desk. He glanced back at Kenzie to find her biting her lip nervously as she surveyed the paneled walls, rich carpeting, and leather furniture mixed with luscious, dark fabrics. She caught his eye, smiling weakly, and Carter wondered if she was nervous . . . if he was assuming too much by taking her to a hotel.

Of course, he realized they were married and had slept together many times. But since he’d arrived, the tension between them made it apparent that those times had been fewer and farther between lately. And the encounter in the limo was the first time he’d really had a taste of Kenzie in that way.

He wanted more than a taste. He wanted the entire banquet.

He swallowed thickly and turned back to the desk clerk, fighting down the animalistic urges that pushed at his control. Tonight was about winning Kenzie back. Not just getting her into bed.

Still, he would have been lying to say he didn’t have high hopes that would be part of the package.

Palming the room key, Carter crossed to Kenzie and wrapped an arm around her waist as they turned toward the elevators.

“Carter, this really isn’t necessary,” she whispered. “We have a perfectly good bed at home.”

Carter laughed as they entered the elevator and ascended to their floor. Kenzie shifted nervously on her feet, her face flushing.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Carter . . .” she began, but the opening of the elevator doors interrupted whatever she was going to say. He took her hand, pulling her down the hallway toward their corner suite. Opening the door with a flourish, he watched Kenzie’s face as she took in the room and her breath caught in her throat.

A sitting area was set up in front of a massive bay window looking out over the city lights. Palm fronds swayed in the slight breeze from the heater vents, giving the room a glamorous, old-Hollywood feel. A fire burned in the fireplace off to the side, next to a gleaming wooden desk sporting yet another bottle of champagne on ice. Through a set of double doors to the left of the sitting area, a king-sized bed with white linens, piles of pillows, and a puffy cloud of a duvet beckoned.

Carter felt it calling to him personally.

Kenzie took a few steps into the room and spun in a slow circle, taking it all in.

“Carter. This is too much,” she said, her voice awed.

“No,” he replied, moving toward her and taking her in his arms. “Nothing’s too much for you.”

“That’s sweet, really. But all of this . . . for just a few hours . . .”

Unable to resist, he leaned in to kiss her neck, nuzzling her hair to inhale her scent. “We have all night. There’s no rush.”

“What?”

His lips trailed along the neckline of her dress. “We have all night. Then room service in the morning. And I thought we’d spend the day exploring the city.” He nibbled at her collarbone. “Or we could stay here, if you want. We don’t have to leave the room.”

Suddenly she pushed him away. “We can’t stay here all night.”

“Why not?” he asked, reaching for her. “My mom’s happy to keep the kids. You know that.”

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Kenzie’s face was flushed, her eyes flashing. Carter suddenly realized that what he’d identified as nerves, was in fact, anger.

She was furious.

And he had absolutely no idea why.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his stomach sinking. “Remember what?”

Kenzie pushed her hair back from her face before letting her arms fall to her sides in defeat. “The writing seminar, Carter? I’ve only been talking about it for months.”

Carter opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn’t know what to say.

“I can’t believe you, Carter,” she said with something close to disgust. “It was one day—one day. All I asked was for you to watch the kids so I could go to this seminar. You know how important this is to me!”

“Well,” Carter floundered. “You can still go. We’ll head home first thing in the morning.”

“It’s in Portland, Carter!” she countered. “I was going to have to get up at five in the morning to drive down. I could have left from here if we’d brought the car, but that’s not even the point.”

“Well, what is the point?” he replied, feeling a surge of his own anger. He was only trying to create a romantic evening, and all she could give him was a load of grief.

“The point, Carter,” she said through gritted teeth, “is that you didn’t even remember. You made all of these plans and now I’m a horrible person for ruining them.”

“You’re not a horrible person.”

“Well, I feel like one,” she said angrily. “I feel like I’m supposed to forget about the seminar and tell you it’s not a big deal. Yet again, what I want . . . what I need is disregarded. What’s important to me doesn’t even matter to you!”

“That’s not true.” Carter stuck his chin out stubbornly.

“No?” Kenzie retorted. “What about U-Dub?”

“What?”

Kenzie rolled her eyes. “I was ten credits and a thesis away from my Master’s . . . ten credits, Carter.”

“So? That’s my fault?” he countered, getting frustrated at her attitude, despite the fact that he didn’t even know what she was talking about.

“No, it’s not your fault,” she said sarcastically. “But you didn’t exactly make it easy for me to go back and finish.”

“You could have done it if you really wanted to.” He crossed his arms over his chest, unsure if he was correct, but too swept up in the argument to care.

“How, Carter?” she replied, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “With two kids? With a mortgage and a car payment? With you off chasing your dream of starting your own paper?”

“My dream?” Carter repeated with a choked laugh. “You think a weekly paper in Woodlawn is my dream? Yeah, right, Kenzie, because covering Walmart openings and the local elementary school Christmas pageant is the height of investigative journalism!”

“Oh, so it all comes back to this again.”

“To what?”

“To what?” She threw her hands up, then scrubbed them over her face in frustration. “To New York, that’s what. You’ve never forgiven me for missing that internship.”

“I . . . I what?” Carter pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes clenched tight. How was he supposed to argue that point when he had no idea if it was true? He couldn’t imagine resenting Kenzie for not taking the internship. Of course, he really didn’t understand why he didn’t take it in the first place.

“I should have gone,” he said quietly.

“I can’t believe you said that.”

“If I would have gone, I would have had a better job. I could have provided for you and the kids better. You would have been able to finish your Master’s.”

“Kids? There wouldn’t have been any kids, Carter. You would have been in New York and I would have been here. We decided together that you’d stay here and take the job at the Times. You said you wanted to be with me.”

“I do want to be with you,” he said.

“Then why do you keep throwing that decision back in my face?”

“Why do you keep bringing up your Master’s?”

Kenzie paused, breathing heavily for a moment before she collapsed on the lavish sofa, her face falling into her hands. “I can’t keep doing this,” she said in a near whisper.

Carter rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension there. He approached Kenzie, all anger gone, and fell to his knees in front of her.

“I’m sorry, Kenzie.”

“You’re always sorry, Carter. I’m sorry, too.” She sat back eyeing him steadily. “How did we get here? Resenting each other . . . ignoring each other?”

Carter reached tentatively for her hand and stroked the back of it gently. “I don’t know. We can get back, though, can’t we? Can’t we at least try?”

Kenzie smiled sadly at him, but said nothing.

They rented a car and drove home in silence, without even the radio to bridge the gap between them. Exhausted, Kenzie fell asleep curled up against the back of the seat, her soft breaths a counter-rhythm to the monotonous drone of tires on pavement. Carter glanced at her often as he maneuvered the nearly empty highway, wishing he could find some answers.

His romantic night had turned into a disaster, and he had no idea how to fix it. The ten years they’d been together—the ten years he’d missed—had somehow damaged what they’d once had.

Still . . . it wasn’t dead.

Carter knew he was still in love with Kenzie. He had no doubt of it. And deep down, he knew that Kenzie still loved him, too.

She was hurt, angry, and frustrated, but she still loved him.

He would have to find a way to make it up to her. A way to show her they still had a chance. He just had no idea exactly how to do it.