She woke alone after an evening of splendor. With the bed still warm, she rushed out, discovering he’d left.

Standing in the rain under a dilapidated umbrella, her heart ached. He’d exposed her soul just as the sheer rain-soaked gown revealed her body. He’d touched her as no man ever had, nor would ever do so again. Then he left her with nothing. Nothing but memories of the way her body moved under his: the thrill of her back arching, her hips bucking, and her entire being quaking with orgasm.

Several months later, the swell of her abdomen proved otherwise.