Adeline gazed at her husband, sound asleep, tangled up in
the sheets. He could still surprise her. She stroked a lock of hair out of his
eyes. A sigh was his only reaction. They’d worn each other out.

     She hadn’t expected marriage to be so fun. Smitty had been
an assignment, nothing more. But he grew on her, with his open-heartedness, his
consideration, his … good God, his stamina. She’d heard men could be like
fine wine: improving with age. It was true in his case. He satisfied her. She’d
never been satisfied before.

     All he asked was she play the role of the Ambassador’s
trophy wife. It was simple enough. In public, she was the tame administrative aide and pious
housewife. In private, he took everything she told him seriously and treated
her like a princess. It wasn’t such a hard part to play. With a few of his
close friends, like the Admiral, she could be less guarded. And Smitty himself
believed the pious housewife part.

     She smiled in the darkness. If he only knew.