CHAPTER ONE

October 6th was a cold and wet Friday night not atypical of autumn in Trenton, New Jersey. Stephanie Plum pulled to a stop in front of a small house on Slater Street and cursed the rain as she cut the engine and made a mad dash for the front door.

"You could have helped me out you know," Stephanie said her husband as she closed and locked the door behind her.

Joe Morelli was standing in the small foyer, arms folded over his chest, watching in amusement as she shook off the cold. Stephanie handed Joe the pizza box she had been carrying and dropped her keys on the sideboard. She slicked her hair away from her face, kicked off her boots, and followed him into the kitchen.

"I could have," Joe said, pulling a couple beers from the fridge, "but you're the one who wanted pizza at midnight. Besides, I didn't want to miss the show."

Stephanie grabbed one of the beers, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink. "What show?"

Joe's eyes darted down to her chest, and as he took a pull off his beer, his mouth curved into a smile. Stephanie looked down at her shirt—white cotton, now nearly translucent because of the rain—and rolled her eyes.

"Nothing you haven't seen before," she mumbled into her first bite of pizza.

"Yeah, but I still like the view," Joe said, tearing off a slice for himself. "Maybe later you could show me around. Maybe give me the grand tour."

Stephanie laughed into her water, causing some of it to slosh onto the table. She tore a few paper towels off the roll and began blotting at the mess. "I've given you the grand tour," she said. "I gave you the grand tour an hour ago. You know your way around better than I do."

No doubt about that, Joe thought. He had been learning the ins and outs of her body since she was six years old and had let him finger her inside his father's garage. That had been innocent curiosity. Just kids being kids. Much different from the first time they had made love be hind the pastry case years later.

Joe shrugged. "This is what newlyweds do, Cupcake," he said.

"We've been married for three years," Stephanie said through a mouthful of pizza, "and in case you've forgotten, I'm four months pregnant. The honeymoon is over."

"That's what you think?"

Stephanie nodded.

"No way, Cupcake," said Joe, shaking his head. He pushed his chair back from the kitchen table, stood up and lifted Stephanie into his arms. She clung to his neck and uttered in mock protest as he carried her upstairs and lowered her onto the bed. There, he kissed her deeply, his hands caressing her swollen stomach and breasts, turning her playful complaints into moans of absolute pleasure. He kissed his way down her body, ridding them both of any fabric preventing the warmth of skin on skin, as she writhed and bucked under his touch, weaving her hands through his hair, pulling him closer and keeping him there, where she needed him. Not that he would ever leave. Where she needed him was where he would always want to be.

They lay together for a long while after their mutual need for pleasure had once again been satisfied, their bodies sweat-kissed, legs entwined, arms holding each other close.

"I love you," Stephanie whispered, planting small kisses along the eagle tattooed on her husband's chest.

"I love you, too."

Stephanie raised herself up on her elbows and looked at him. "How much?"

Blowing out a sigh, Joe sat up and looked at her.

"Uh-oh," he said. "What is it this time? Peanut butter? Oatmeal? Spam? It's not Spam, is it?"

"You don't love me enough to buy me Spam?"

"Only if you promise to eat it outside," Joe said. "The kitchen still smells like sardines from last week!"

Stephanie made a face, followed by a gagging sound.

Joe sat up and pulled her to him. "Name it," he said. "Whatever you want."

Stephanie sucked in a breath and held it while she thought.

"I want cheesecake," she said, finally. "And an apple."

"An apple?"

Stephanie nodded her head.

"What kind of apple?"

"A green one," Stephanie said. "Something sour."

"Cheesecake and a green apple," Joe said, making a mental checklist. "Anything else?"

"Nope." Stephanie shook her head. "That's it."

"Okay," Joe said, kissing her lightly on her forehead. He rolled out of bed, pulled on his jeans and searched the floor for his longsleeved thermal top. Stephanie crawled down to the end of the bed and reached for him. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips, lightly at first, then more deeply as his emotions (and hormones) got the best of him.

"I'll be back in a half hour," Joe said, nipping at her neck until he had elicited from her a groan of pleasure. "Might want to rest."

Worried that she wouldn't feel up to more activity in her condition, he pulled away and looked at her.

"Unless you're not up for dessert . . ."

Stephanie smiled and relaxed back on the bed, her arms stretched high above her head, framing the corona of brown curls, which had unfurled on her pillow. "I'm always up for dessert."