Eliza was still mulling it over when a soft knock sounded on the bedroom door.

It swung open before she could respond, and her big, dark, beautiful husband stood framed in the doorway.

Romano’s eyes swept over her small and disheveled form as she sat in the middle of the bed with her arms wrapped around her knees.

"You've been in here for nearly three hours, Eliza," he said in a quiet voice.

It was the kind of voice one would use when talking to an unbroken, high-strung horse. Three hours? ...