Chapter 5 "Sixth Sense"

Crane Mansion

Teresa stood frozen at the door, her heart beating overtime as fear of discovery washed over her. 

"Please don't let him be awake," she murmured, as she turned around.  A sigh of relief erupted from her lips when she saw that Fox hadn't awakened and that she must have just imagined that he'd called out her name.

 Not wanting to tempt fate more than she had already Teresa slipped out of the room as quietly as she had slipped in.

"Oh, God what have I done?  Why did I let things go so far?" she asked herself. 

"Because you wanted it, you wanted him.  Fox made you feel beautiful and desirable and oh so special and even though you knew it was all an illusion; that it wasn't you he really wanted, you couldn't resist tasting the forbidden" her conscience whispered

Her face streaked with tears of shame, Teresa sat on her bed and wondered what price she'd be forced to pay for her night of recklessness.  For she wasn't naïve enough to assume that fate wouldn't demand that she pay a price for her deceit.  Her 18 months of marriage to Ethan had made her cynical and the little girl who had looked at the world through rose colored glasses had died a long time ago.

"Please, God, don't let him remember," she prayed.  Fox already despised her and Teresa knew that if he ever found out that she'd practically raped him he would never forgive her.  But even as the prayer formed on her lips Teresa knew that given a choice she would do it all over again because Fox's lovemaking had made her feel whole.  For the first time in her life, she'd felt like a real woman and not the prude Ethan had always accused her of being. 

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The next morning…

Fox's room

Fox sat up groggily in bed as sunlight streamed in through the half open blinds.  His head ached something fierce and his throat was dry and parched.  Running a hand through his tousled blond hair he jumped out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom.  Letting the warm water ease his sore muscles, Fox leaned his aching head against the cold tiles and thought back to the dream he'd had last night.  It was the same dream he'd had for the last six months.  He and Chelsea were at the penthouse about to make love when he suddenly realized that Chelsea was gone.

But last nights dream had ended a bit differently because even as he cried out for Chelsea to come back, her blurry image was replaced with Teresa's stunningly exotic face.  Teresa had stared back at him from dark, sultry eyes filled with desire and like a siren leading a sailor to doom he had been helpless to resist her potent charm. Even as he damned himself for a fool for letting his brother's ex seduce him, he had been unable to resist the lure of her delectable body and had feasted on her like a starved man gorges at a banquet.

"Why in heaven's name would I be dreaming of Teresa? I've always despised her.  She made Ethan miserable the whole time they were married and anyone with eyes in their head could see that his death didn't affect her at all," he thought.

Only that wasn't quite the truth and he knew it.  He'd had quite a few opportunities to observe Teresa in the last six months and though she tried her best to hide it there was an aura of sadness that clung to her like a second skin. 

He'd always thought her haughty and unfeeling but he'd slowly come to realize that she was none of those things.  Teresa was innately reserved and what came across as arrogance was merely shyness. 

One only had to observe her with Mathieu to see that she wasn't cold at all.  She literally doted on the boy and there was an easy affection between woman and child that he envied.

"Just because she's a good mother doesn't mean that she was a good wife.  Ethan was miserable with her," he commented, unwilling to admit that maybe he had rushed to judgment.

"But what if you're wrong? You better should better than anyone should know that it takes two to make a marriage and it takes two to break it," a little voice inside his head whispered.

Shaking his head, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a mint green towel around his trim waist.  A few minutes later, dressed in a pair of tight blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and scuffed black boots he was ready to face the day.  He'd downed three aspirins and a glass of water and his head no longer felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. 

"I'm making a big deal out of nothing.  Ethan and Teresa's relationship or lack thereof is none of my business.  Besides, nothing happened between us last night.  It was just a dream," he rationalized. 

"Then why do I feel like it was something more?" he wondered.

A/N- I am being very good about updating this fic quite often so please, please, please leave a review.  I live for praise.