“Ransom Reed.”

He opens his mouth, yet snaps it closed immediately, as if he doesn’t trust his words. I wait for the jealousy, the rage, the disappointment. But they never come. And part of me—a rather large part—craves them. At least I’d know he cares. At least I could feel like he loves me just as furiously as he cares for his patients.

“So, Ransom needs to get out of town?” he finally asks.

“Yeah, um, he’s been in some trouble; Caleb and I think it’d be a good idea for him to gain some perspective, away from the craziness of the city.”

He nods, maybe out of empathy. “And where were you planning on taking him?”

“Um, well, I’m not . . .” I’m stammering. Stammering is not a sign that I’m confident in my decision. “I was, uh, thinking of Oasis. Since Justice has beefed up security and gone public, the appeal for the papzz simply isn’t there anymore. No one wants to do an exposé on a couple’s spa.”

He nods again. “Good idea. I’ll come too.”

“You’ll . . . what?” I surely did not hear him right. Did he just say he’d come with me to take Ransom to a former sex school for bored, undersexed housewives, aka just about every married woman in Manhattan? (Ahem.)

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted to see that place and meet the guy. Plus it’s a five star resort and spa in the middle of nowhere. Sounds like fun.”

Sounds like fun? Does he know what he’s signing up for?

“Well, I haven’t actually talked to Justice about this yet. He’s sure to shut me down, seeing as it’s a couple’s resort. And plus . . .”

I can’t finish my thought. I can’t admit that I confided in Justice in something more than business, and divulged details of our personal lives, even if they were vague. The guy isn’t stupid. He knows exactly why I quizzed him about open marriages. And once I show up with Tucker and Ransom, I won’t be able to dodge that narrowed look of condescension. Because, let’s face it, no one does condescending like Justice Drake.

Tucker shifts and grips me by the hips, lifting me from his lap. “Why don’t you call and talk to him. I need to make a few calls myself and arrange for the rest of my patients to be taken care of.”

“Really?”

He kisses me on the forehead and smiles softly. “Yeah. This’ll be good. For all of us.” Then he shuffles away to his study, leaving me behind in an obscure cloud of what the fuck?

Ransom agreed easier than I expected. Tucker was borderline alien in his acquiesce. But Justice? Shit. I might as well pack my cutoffs and flip-flops and tell the guys we’re going to Disney World.

“You want to what?” he snaps after I present the idea to him. Most would wither under that clipped, cold tone, but not me. Justice is all bark, very little bite. Especially now that Ally has got him as tame as a teacup Yorkie.

“I want to bring Ransom there to Oasis to lay low for a week. Two weeks tops. The press won’t think to look for him there, and around all those old, boring ass married folks, he’s sure to stay out of trouble.”

“I’m still not seeing how this has dick to do with me and mine. This isn’t a fucking hotel, Heidi. I have clients—clients that pay me well to maintain a sense of safety and serenity. And how am I supposed to explain some young, single kid walking around when we have a strict Couples Only policy?”

“Well . . . tell them he’s with me.”

Silence, save for the sound of his unspoken accusations. He opens with a snort before continuing. “You? You’re coming too? And what does your husband think about that?”

“He thinks it’s a good idea. He actually suggested he come along too.”

Another snort, this time one of aggravation. “I said couple, Heidi. As in two. Not three, not four. Two.”

I purse my lips as I walk into the bedroom for more privacy. “And since when have you been the patron saint of monogamy?”

“I’ve always promoted the idea of it, Heidi. It was just in a slightly misguided, convoluted way. However, you can’t deny my success rate. You don’t become Justice Drake without knowing your shit.”

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it. “Oh, Justice. What a big ego you have. So are we doing that now? Talking about yourself in the third person?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t. Is it cool for us to come or not? Or would you like to continue to judge me as if your closet isn’t bursting with more skeletons than a Tim Burton film. Please . . . tell me again how you met and seduced your current love interest aka your sister-in-law. And tell me again how she found you hiding out in Abu Dhabi, when someone went out on a fucking limb—sacrificing her own time and resources—to track you down for her. I particularly love that part of the story.”

I can almost feel the heat of his temper flaring from over two thousand miles away. And while his voice is arctic, he’s saying exactly what I want him to say, as I knew he would. I always get my way.

“Fine. Bring him. But space is limited. He stays out of the way, and he doesn’t pry into my business. Understand? And if I catch one single fucking inkling that he’s using, he’s out. Got it?”

I nearly gasp, but bite it down. “Using? What makes you think he’s using?” I hadn’t told anyone. Not even Tucker.

“I have basic cable, Heidi. God forbid the rest of the world outside of Manhattan has the use of modern technology.”

I manage to smile. He’s agreed. And while he may be pissed, I know Justice can’t stay mad at me for long. Above all, he owes me. He’ll always owe me. I’m the one who helped bring him back from the dead.

“You’re such a hater. Admit it—you miss it here.”

“Like a hole in the head.” I almost hear him chuckle, but being the hard ass that he is, he refuses to show any other emotion outside of pissed and horny.

“So, we’ll be there within the week. I’m shooting for Thursday if Tucker can get things squared away with work.”

“Fine. Shoot me your info and I’ll have your ride waiting.”

“Seriously?” I scoff. “I know how to get there. All that security bullshit isn’t necessary.”

Justice pushes right back, ignoring my attitude. “You’re bringing two strangers to my home and business. So yes, the security bullshit is necessary. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

We both hang up. And I smile. I kinda love that guy.

I don’t waste any time contacting the travel agent and Caleb and pass along the travel info. He’s stunned that Justice would agree to let us come, but downright flabbergasted that Tucker would suggest he come along too. I don’t let on that I’m just as shocked. I like Caleb, but not enough to share with him. There are industry friends and regular friends. Caleb is an industry friend. My regular friends can be counted on one hand with a couple fingers to spare.

Initially, I think I won’t be able to rest until our flight on Thursday morning, but both Tucker and I are so busy with tying up loose ends that the day comes sooner than expected. We don’t even get a chance to talk about what to expect. I know that Tucker thinks this will be good for us, but why? Because he thinks it will provide us some much needed alone time? Or because he can keep an eye on Ransom? Or is it that the prospect of having Ransom there for . . . a repeat performance is what he’s craving? And if that is the case, what the hell does that mean for us? That he only gets off on watching another man fuck me?

I can’t even think like that right now.

Caleb insists on bringing Ransom to the airport to ensure he actually shows up and I’m grateful. I need as much time alone with Tucker before we get on this plane. After today, who knows what will remain sacred between us?

“I can’t understand why you’d choose to fly commercial,” Caleb sneers, approaching us at the First Class ticketing line. He air kisses me, and continues bitching about everything from tiny bathrooms to Ebola. “I swear to God, Heidi DuCane, if either you or Ransom get some type of deadly virus, I will kill you myself before you contaminate me. Those quarantine moon suits do nothing for my figure.”