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draped his arm over Chessie’s shoulder, then lay back in the hammock, pulling her with him. “Nice perfume,” he murmured.
    Perfume? She never wore perfume. Oh, yeah, the bug lotion. If this was all the romance today’s demonstration had gotten her, she needed to up the ante. Might even have to implement Plan B…
    “This is nice,” he added. His muffled words told her he’d be asleep before the fireworks started.
    Plan B it was.
    “Yes, this is nice,” she agreed. “Emerging starlight. The scent of flowers. A cricket serenade. Thecloseness of two bodies.” She stroked his thigh. “It’s quite romantic.”
    “Couldn’t agree more.” He was fading fast.
    “We need more romance in our marriage.”
    “Anything…you…say.” He held to consciousness by a tenuous thread.
    “And I have a plan.” She walked her fingers up his chest. “I read in your Sports Illustrated that athletes try to imprint positive behavior. Good golf swing. Great slap shot. Terrific slam dunk.”
    “Soun’s great.”
    “They try to memorize how the positive feels and then block out the negative or the extraneous, both mentally and physically.” She stroked the stubble along his jaw.
    “Mmmm…”
    “So I thought, since we both agree this romantic feeling is nice, we could work on replicating it. Kind of like the athletes. We’d be in training, so to speak, in our relationship.” She laid her cheek on his shoulder with her mouth close to his ear. “More romance. It could become our mantra.”
    His deep intake of breath sounded suspiciously like a snore.
    “We need to recognize the difference between real romance and a convenient physical release.” She ran her tongue along the rim of his ear. “Nick, while we’re concentrating on the romance, I think we’re going to have to can the sex.”
    On the verge of sleep or not, he sat bolt upright inthe hammock. “No sex?” With the wild look of someone with one foot in dreams and the other in reality, he spotted his daughter lost in her music and lowered his voice. “Are you out of your mind?”
    She seemed to have his attention now.
    “Just till we’re back on track as a couple, hon.” She massaged the tense muscles of his back. “Sex can cloud the issue.”
    “Dammit, we’re married.”
    “I’m well aware of that. But I’d like to feel as if we were courting. And I, for one, am embracing celibacy until that hearts-and-flowers feeling returns.”
    “What are you trying to do to me, Chess?”
    “Us, Nick. Us. And I’m trying to make us better.”
    Angry, he stood up. “Well, it sure feels as if it’s all about me. And none of it feels good.” He stormed off the terrace, past Isabel, who appeared oblivious to her father’s distress.
    Chessie slumped back in the hammock as the first of the fireworks exploded overhead with a tremendous boom and a dizzying display of color.

CHAPTER THREE
    T EN HOURS LATER Nick still fumed.
    Last night, afraid he might say something he’d regret in the morning, he’d left Chessie on the terrace without discussing her ridiculous challenge. He’d been too frustrated to debate what he didn’t understand. Besides, pure physical exhaustion had caught up with him. He’d headed to bed.
    He hadn’t slept, however, and his wife hadn’t joined him in their bedroom.
    Morning had dawned with confusion dogging his sleep-deprived brain. Even now, after all the words exchanged yesterday, he didn’t see why she’d become dissatisfied with their marriage. And celibacy after eighteen years together? What a crock. He felt manipulated and hoped the old sofa in her studio, where she’d more than likely spent the night, had been lumpy.
    He’d looked forward to reading the morning paper to see if he was still in the same universe he’d been in before the Fourth, but the new paper carrier had tossed it in the birdbath.
    Aggravated before the work day had begun, he pounded the steering wheel of his old and cranky Volvo as he prepared to head to