The Innocent Wife

CHAPTER 1 Maya

Maya

Her husband was warm against her back.

Maya luxuriated in the feel of him. His hand curved at her hip, thumb resting just beneath the hem of her shirt, the slow, unconscious weight of it.

Married, she thought, with the same quiet disbelief she'd felt on the day itself. Married to this man.

He was a good husband.

He would be a good father, too. They were waiting, but that would all change soon, maybe. Hopefully.

She shifted and his arm tightened. "Don't," he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

"Don't what?"

"Leave."

"I'm not leaving," she said, laughing softly. "But we do need to get up. It's Tuesday."

He made a dissatisfied sound and pressed his face into her hair.

This was everything to her, living this life, waking up in this bed, with a man who reached for her even in sleep. It was in the small things, the hand at her hip, the coffee waiting before she asked, the way he always tracked where she was in a room without seeming to look.

Maya was loud. Reid was quiet. She loved that.

She twisted in his arms until she could see him. He blinked at her, dark hair rumpled, jaw shadowed with stubble. She watched as the sleep left him and the sharpness she loved came back into his eyes.

"You're staring at me," she said.

“You’re my favorite thing to look at.”

She could feel herself blush.

He reached up and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "How did I get this lucky?" he asked.

She leaned in and kissed him.

It was an easy kiss, at first. Unhurried. His stubble brushed her skin as he tilted his head, and the simple press of his mouth turned deliberate—slower, deeper—his hand sliding from her hip to the small of her back, anchoring her against him.

The day disappeared. The permits she was chasing, the site visit, even the phone call she was waiting for, all gone under the slow drag of his mouth and the steady heat of his body.

She felt the give of her softness against the lean length of him.

She let her hands flatten against him, palms pressed to the solid line of his chest.

"Maya," he sighed against her mouth.

She had so much to do today.

She pulled away slowly, reluctance dragging at her, and rested her forehead against his.

"I have a site visit this morning," she managed, her breathing a little uneven.

His mouth found the side of her neck. "That's unfortunate," he murmured.

"Very. And I need to confirm the signs for Saturday.”

“The 5K?” His mouth continued down her neck.

"The Roll & Run," she agreed, one hand on his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

People were counting on her. Her fundraiser had started as thirty people looping the park in wheelchairs and running shoes and now hundreds showed up. With the money they were raising, they could do so much more.

Staying here, with Reid, would be selfish. There was too much to do.

She caught his jaw in her hand and drew him back up to her mouth. One last kiss, long enough to be a promise, short enough to be an escape.

Then she slipped out of bed.

She dressed simply enough—jeans, a T-shirt, her hair still braided from sleep. She looked just as chubby and ordinary as ever in the mirror, but waking up with her husband given her a flush in her cheeks.

She wanted to go back to bed. She wanted to go back to him.

She liked her job, she liked making things better, more accessible. She didn’t begrudge any of the effort she poured into it.

This was where she let herself be greedy.

With everyone else, she was capable and careful and measured—the person who showed up early, who put hours of unpaid work in. With Reid, she got to want. She got to reach. She got to take.

She glanced over her shoulder. He was watching her intently, propped up against the pillows, all warm morning light and steady attention.

"I'll let you make me coffee," she said. It wasn't what she really wanted from him right now—but it was what the day allowed.

She waved her hand at the bed, at her husband lying there, watching her with interest. "We can revisit the rest of it tonight."

Reid's mouth curved, slow and sure, like a man who already knew how the evening would go.

It was, she thought, a very good reason to get through a Tuesday.

By the time she had finished her prep, Reid had already put on his armor for the day. He stood at the counter, shirt buttoned and tie straight, thumb scrolling through his phone. The shift in him was unmistakable. Reid Lawson was in work mode.

Reid loved his job. But Maya didn’t mind sharing him.

A mug was already waiting for her, made just the way she liked it. She took a sip of coffee. She put her own phone on the counter.

“What time are you expecting to hear?” Reid asked, watching her.

She made a face. “Victoria said she’d call by the end of the day.”

“They’ll want you,” Reid said, reading her face easily.

“I hope so,” she sighed. A decade of permit fights and bake sales and favors called in and it might finally be less than a full-time job.

He pulled her in by the waist, tucking her close. His chin rested on her hair. “Who wouldn’t want you?”

She liked the difference she made. She just hated the mountains of organizing that came with it.

“Imagine,” she said wistfully, “someone else handling all the grants, all the expenses. An actual finance department.”

“You have Julian.”

Julian Cross, Reid’s college friend and a corporate accountant had stepped in to look after the community initiative’s books. Maya had been drowning after an influx of grant money. Without him, she would have been buried on the financial side.

“I need to get moving,” Reid said, pulling back reluctantly. “I’m presenting my findings this morning. I’m going to recommend we open an investigation.”

“Maybe someone just misplaced a receipt,” she teased him.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “Maybe not. That’s why we investigate.”

There was that glint in his eye she loved. He didn’t care about being right, he cared about about doing right.

There was something deeply attractive about that.

Still, she teased him. “Accountability,” she said, pitching her voice a little breathless. “Due process. Ethical standards.”

“Don’t forget financial disclosures.”

God, she wanted to drag this man straight back to bed. Her husband’s moral compass was all too compelling.

Tonight, she reminded herself sternly. For now she needed to concentrate on the ramp installation, the call from the foundation.

Reid’s thumb moved, slow and absentminded, along the curve of her side. Protective. Possessive.

He leaned down, and her chin tilted up automatically.

His phone buzzed.

Julian, read the display. Reid exhaled with frustration. “Sorry,” he muttered, already unlocking the screen.

Maya finished her coffee, watching him read the text. He typed something quickly, focus returning to that narrowed, efficient state.

“Try not to be too sexy today,” she said over the lip of her coffee mug.

His mouth curved, eyes flicking up to hers. “No promises.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.