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Taylor studiously examined his dozing bedmate. The rumpled sheet she clung to exposed her soft belly and a single breast, hip, and slender leg. Savannah often napped after sex. Jessica, his wife, used intimate moments to voice relationship issues and to discuss "kid problems." "God, she's gorgeous," he muttered, eyes feasting on Savannah's milky skin, exposed breast, and a waist slightly thickened by age and two pregnancies. He contrasted her simple good looks with his wife's breathtaking beauty. Petite Jessica carried herself with the confidence of a woman convinced that her body didn't betray the reality of having delivered three children. With clear olive skin, startling emerald eyes, and an abundance of coal-black hair cascading around her shoulders, Jessica still turned heads. The two women had acquired their unique beauty from different puddles of the gene pool, but Taylor loved each of them with equal ardor. Savannah, because she showered him with good-humored affection, and Jessica, from long-ago high school days when an untimely pregnancy had disrupted their carefree young lives. But Jessica's long-standing, inexplicable
