Chapter Three

"Jaime...?" Michael's faced paled at the sight of another man's hands on his wife – especially since those hands were Steve's.

Jaime took a step toward her husband, looking regretfully at Steve. "If you need to talk..." she told him.

Michael scowled. "If he needs to talk, he can call a shrink." He wrapped one arm firmly around Jaime, pulling her into the house as Steve stepped outside.

Steve turned around, ready to defend Jaime from what he feared might be coming, but the door closed in his face and dejectedly, he headed back to his car. He decided to take the long route home, needing the extra time to think.

Jaime and Michael....the picture was jarring and wrong. Still, was it really any of his business? Jaime was his friend, nothing more; after all, he was married now. He could see Jenn sitting by the big picture window as he pulled up the driveway. When she spotted his car, she bounded out of her chair and opened the door with a sweet, loving smile on her face.

"I missed you," she said, wrapping herself around him and handing him a drink. "Dinner's almost ready – I made your favorite pot roast." Her long, nearly-black hair was tied back with a bright sapphire blue ribbon that almost matched the color of her eyes...and those eyes were shining with excitement as she stood on tip-toes to kiss Steve's cheek.

"Smells great," Steve acknowledged, trying to shake off his preoccupation. He wasn't forgetting for a moment just how lucky he was to have this woman in his arms. Jenn was beautiful, attentive and sweet. He forced his thoughts back to where they should be – with his wife. "Got time for a drink first?" he asked, sweeping her into a deeper kiss.

"Already made and waiting for you." She eyed him anxiously as she handed him a glass. "Is...something wrong?"

"Nothing that seeing you didn't fix."

- - -

Jaime could feel the tension building and spreading through the house like a thick, suffocating blanket. Michael had stormed into the bedroom without uttering a single word to her. He had taken a shower, rifled through the entire closet before getting dressed and then poured himself a drink before finally heading into the living room where she waited quietly for him.

Even after he'd sat down, put his feet up and taken a long swill from his martini, Michael didn't speak. Jaime had long since gotten used to his silent, morose brooding....but today, in this situation, it was simply unbearable. "Michael...?" she began in a near-whisper.

Michael stared into his drink and then downed the remainder in a single gulp. He looked over at Jaime with dark, angry eyes. "Care to explain what that was all about?" he seethed. He didn't wait for an answer. "Well, let me tell you – it was a real treat to walk into my own house and find my wife in the arms of her former lover. Maybe 'former' is the wrong word for him, huh?"

"You know me better than that," Jaime said softly.

"I also know Austin. And I don't trust him – especially when it comes to you."

"He's married, Michael!"

"Yes – and so are you – and yet, there you both were..."

"We weren't exactly rolling around in bed!" Jaime snapped.

"Too bad I came home so early then, huh?" Michael shook his head. "He had no business putting his hands on you."

"I hugged him."

"That makes me feel so much better. I don't want him here when I'm not home, Jaime. Hell, I don't want the man anywhere near you – ever."

"Excuse me?" Jaime felt positively floored. "Are you giving me orders now?"

"You heard what I said. If you have a problem with it, then I guess my next talk will be with Austin's wife, telling her to keep him on a shorter leash." Michael set his empty glass on the coffee table, glared harshly at Jaime and slammed into the bedroom, locking the door. Jaime was alone in the living room...and alone in her heart. She took the afghan from the back of the sofa and stretched out, trying to will herself to sleep.

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