Charlotte was exhausted. She'd hardly seen Joe at all. He'd stopped by for coffee the last two mornings before she took the kids to school, but she hadn't had time to say two words to him. It dawned on her today that Joe actually liked the morning chaos. He was always so chipper at 7:00 a.m.

She lay in her bed with the covers thrown off because it was so warm. The only sounds that infringed upon the night silence were the faraway bark of a dog, the chirp of crickets, and the soft hum of the ceiling fan above her bed.

She stretched, letting her arms and legs fall loose, feeling the caress of the air on her skin. Summer was nearly here. It would be the second summer without Kurt, the second cycle of seasons without her husband. She was well into her second year as a widow.

Charlotte trained her eyes on the slow whir of the fan blades, trying, in the wash of moonlight, to isolate one blade as it spun around in an unbroken rhythm, like the earth around the sun, like the moon around the earth, like the days and weeks and months cycling through her life. The one life she'd ever get.

Was she about to screw it up?

She did a few deep-breathing exercises, then surrendered. She got the key. With more force than she planned, she yanked open the bedside table drawer. She clicked on the lamp.

Charlotte grabbed her notebook and removed the cap from her ink pen and stared at the blank page.

The fear welled up in her the second her hand began to move across the paper, leaving in its path loops and swirls that revealed every uncertainty she felt.

Dark Stranger

Who is this man I've let inside,

And how much will he take?

His feet walk on my kitchen floor

His words seduce my injured heart

His hands burn my weakened flesh

But I don't know him

Though he laughs with my kids

And pets my dog

And sits on my porch

He is a dark stranger

With black eyes and a troubled soul

He says he wants babies

But it's only part of rough play

Don't play with me, Joe

Don't hide from me

Dark stranger

Already inside

Don't hurt me, Joe

Please

Don't

Hurt me

The notebook went first-hurled across the bedroom- and she watched the pages flutter like bird wings as it sailed. It hit the wall with a thud, which was immediately followed by Hoover's deep woof from across the hall.

That's all she needed-to wake up the kids.

Then she threw the pen, and it, too, hit the wall.

"It's okay, boy." She'd cracked open her bedroom door and peeked into the hallway. "Everything's all right. Go back to sleep."

Hoover gave her a look that indicated he didn't really believe her, then sauntered back into Matt's room.

She couldn't help it. She was weak. Joe was so close. Close enough to touch, taste… to love. And she wasn't strong enough to resist him. She'd never been strong enough to resist him.

Charlotte felt herself walking across the hall to Matt's bedroom, where she grabbed the binoculars off his desk, then, like a zombie, returned to her own room, shut the door, and allowed herself to be enticed by the moonlight at the window. She felt like a third-party observer as she watched her own hands raise the plastic spyglasses, felt them settle upon the rise of her cheekbones. With a quick blink, she set her focus on the window beyond the trees.

She gasped, stumbled backward, but kept her eyes open.

A pair of big black binoculars was aimed right back at her.

Well, hot damn.

Joe laughed so hard that the image of Charlotte began to jump up and down and side to side in his sights. He noted with pleasure that she took a shocked step back; then he saw that she had to be holding up the cheapest pair of plastic binoculars he'd ever seen in his life. They looked like something a kid would get in a box of Cracker Jacks. They had to be Matt's.

He raised one hand and waved to her. He watched with pleasure as her mouth fell open in what he only hoped was indignation.

Like she had any kind of moral high ground here.

Joe didn't hide the fact that he found the situation amusing, and smiled big in her direction. It crossed his mind that she might not even appreciate this little exchange because she might not be able to see a thing out of those Pacific Rim goody bag staffers she held up to her eyes.

He mouthed these words to her: Hello, dumplin'.

Then it was his turn to drop his jaw.

She'd felt this jolt of awareness just one other time in her life. In that Miata. Alive. Sexual. Free. Absolutely herself.

Ready.

Charlotte set the binoculars on the bed, seeing this moment for what it was. It was the end of thirteen years of sexual anguish.

She took a deep breath, realizing that she wasn't even mad at Joe for spying on her. In fact, she loved it. She loved it so much she was trembling.

Charlotte spun around to face the window and reached up to unclasp the barrette that held her hair in place. She shook her head and let the mess fall where it would and licked her lips. It was so strange performing for someone she couldn't see-just an open window. But then she'd never stripped for ai man in even the most private of settings.

Her shaking hands rose to touch her breasts, as if she knew instinctively what Joe would want to see. She let her fingers brush around the prod of her nipples under a thin layer of cotton, then let her caress sweep down, down, until she put her hands where she wanted Joe's to be.

Charlotte let her fingers play inside the elastic of her underwear, barely brushing the silk of her damp flesh, and allowed her head to fall back from the pleasure of her own touch. She knew the effect she must be having on Joe, and a sense of power surged through her. She felt like such a bad girl. So lustful. So out of control. So wonderful.

Such a slut.

Charlottp leveled her gaze out the window and moved both hands to her hips, then her waist, grabbing the bottom of her tank top as she went, pulling, pulling, until her face was covered and the rest of her was not. Then she tugged the shirt with a bit of drama, held it out to her side with a straight arm, and let it fall to the floor.

Joe's window must have been open, because at that instant she heard him shout.

Next she raised her hands and fluffed her hair real good, then puckered up in a kiss, running an index finger down the center of her lips, her chin, her throat, her sternum, her belly, her belly button…

Her phone rang. She picked it up.

"Not fair," Joe said, breathing hard.

"I can't wait anymore," she said.

"We don't have to."

"You like this?"

"Oh, fuck yes."

"Want me to keep going?"

"Are you serious?"

She hung up and went back to the window, wearing just her panties and hoping to God that the angle of the window prevented Mrs. Watson or anyone else on Hayden Circle from seeing her little show. But if she was honest with herself, she was beyond caring. She was beyond stopping.

Charlotte twirled to expose her back to the window, feeling the air on her spine, the sensitive flesh where her back flared out to create her hips. She raised her arms straight up over her head and clasped hands, then peeked around. She slowly swiveled her butt, smiled big, and lowered her hands to the waistband of her underpants.