As news of the deal spread, I found myself surrounded by colleagues, congratulating me.

"What are you going to do next, Isabelle?" someone asked.

I knew they meant, "how are you going to top that deal?" I actually didn't care about topping it, I just liked matching people and property. That was the reason I was a successful broker, always had been. But I decided that, on the basis of such a momentous deal, and everyone's awe, I would do something frivolous.

"Next? I'm going to take the afternoon off! I think I've earned it!"

There was loud applause, and I made my way to my car, looking forward to relaxing at home and celebrating my achievement.

Once I got home, I had maybe two hours until Paul and his wife arrived to see Toby and Liz's house. I decided to just relax until then, maybe crack open some champagne after they left. To be honest, I was still a little stunned - I mean, I had been confident about making the sale, but the reality of actually making it hadn't quite sunk in just yet.

I headed up to my bedroom, unbuttoning my suit as I went. I dropped the temperature on the air-conditioning a few more degrees too - the heat today was pretty fierce. I went to hang my suit on the valet stand, then changed my mind and folded it into the hamper with my other drycleaning. I'd drop it off tomorrow morning.

Once I was out of my suit, I began to relax. You know, in that odd way, when you haven't even realised that you were tense? I stretched my arms high above my head, then crossed my legs and bent slowly down to touch my toes, feeling the tension ease even further. Yoga was doing great things for my flexibility.

I sat on the bench at the foot of my bed to take off my stockings. I have this thing for stay-up stockings. Can't stand pantyhose, and garter belts are too fiddly. But stockings always add that professional touch, and I liked the lacy topped ones, because they make me feel sexy. However, today, in the heat, I couldn't wait to get out of them. I tossed them in the hamper in the bathroom. The cool tiles under my feet relaxed me even more.

I grabbed a simple cotton dress out of the closet, slipped it on and headed downstairs to have something to eat.

After lunch, I headed into the conservatory, opened the windows and turned on the fans and the spa jets. I did mention how much I loved my house, didn't I? Hey, I looked on all my little luxuries as improving my capital investment - how's that for a nice juicy justification? The conservatory had cost me a bundle, that was true. It was on the south side of the house, so it was beautifully warm in winter. It's very cool to sit in a bubbling hot spa surrounded by lush plants, sipping mulled wine and looking out at snow. Don't believe me? You ought to try it sometime!

I undressed and stepped into the cool spa. That's another plus about living in an expensive neighbourhood. I didn't have to worry about my neighbours being able to peer into the windows, so I mostly used the spa nude. I leaned back carefully to keep my hair above the water. I reached up and patted it gently - my lucky French twist. Okay, so I didn't really believe that. I knew I had made the deal because of my hard work, but the way that hairstyle made me feel - so in control and confident. Maybe I should wear my hair like this whenever I felt needed some extra luck!

I lazed in the cool water for about 45 minutes, reading a book and sipping club soda. I really wanted champagne, but I did have another appointment this afternoon. When the alarm buzzed on my PDA, I was a bit miffed at having to move. But I did, turning off the spa jets, wrapping a towel round me and heading upstairs to shower and change.

I opened the closet to find something suitable for a residential sale appointment. I finally chose a pale lemon linen dress with a pair of white sandals with a kitten heel. It was a nice simple look - another thing I had learned about selling. I looked fresh, cool and comfortable, which would make the house seem that way too. A quick touch up on my makeup and I was ready. I stepped out of my front door just as a red Humvee pulled into the drive next door.

Chapter 4 - Joanie

I noticed the woman in the lemon dress walking towards us as we pulled up in front of the house. I guessed she was our real estate broker. I hadn't met her yet, Paul had been doing all the looking so far. I'd been swamped with personal appearances and commitments, while he was relatively free. He'd been really impressed with this house, and now I was going to get to look at it.

We had been looking for a new house for a while now, since even before we were married two years ago. But we'd gotten serious about it recently, because someone had found out our current address and posted it on the internet. While they couldn't actually get up to the house, it was creeping me out seriously to have people loitering around outside the gates. The sooner we moved, the better, as far as I was concerned.

The broker walked up to Paul, and extended her hand. "Good afternoon Paul, nice to see you again." I stepped around the back of the Humvee to join him.

"Hi Isabelle," Paul responded. "I'd like you to meet my wife, Joanie."

She looked at us both standing together. It was a typical reaction. I mean, Paul and I do look a bit imposing together, both being tall and muscular. But we suited one another perfectly, always had. And we're very happy together, so we give off what Jeff Hardy calls a "cool positive vibe". I don't know exactly what that means, but it usually means people look at us once in sort of shock, then smile.

Isabelle shook my hand and smiled up at me. "It's nice to meet you, Joanie. What say we get in out of this heat?" She gestured up to the house, and we walked together to the front door. Isabelle put the key in the front door and unlocked it, pushing it open and gesturing for us to go in. The air was lovely and cool, and I sighed with relief. I had dreaded coming into a stuffy hot house. It's hard to get enthused about a place when the sweat is trickling down your back.

"As you can see," Isabelle said, as the alarm system beeped and she turned to enter the code, "the house is equipped with a back-to-base security system, which covers all doors and windows, including the garage. It's wired for external video surveillance too, although there aren't currently any cameras installed. There are motion sensitive floodlights all around the property however." Good security was one of the "must haves" on our list of features, and it was nice to know she had taken that into consideration.

We toured the house, with Isabelle pointing out the features that made it a one of a kind. Their architect really had been inspired - this house was a real showstopper. Paul had been impressed by that, but I wanted a home, not a spectacular piece of architecture. I wanted us to be able to live here, and Isabelle seemed to sense that, speaking more about the way the house was set up for comfort.

I know I don't look like Little Suzy Homemaker, but maybe because Isabelle was a woman too she seemed to know more about what I was interested in. Like closet space. I love my clothes, and finding the huge walk in closet in the master bedroom was a dream come true. My eyes just glazed over when I saw it, and Paul had to nudge me to get me moving again.

He laughed and told Isabelle that she had just given me an excuse I didn't really need to buy more clothes. But then he whispered in my ear, very softly, "That wardrobe turned you on - guess where we are going to do it first?"

Paul is bad - I know it. But I love him for it. And I did think that christening the wardrobe might just be fun. But to make up for that, I pinched his butt, hard, as we followed Isabelle downstairs again. To his credit, he didn't yelp or anything. He did give me a look that meant I was going to pay for it later though. My nipples tingled - goody!

After we had seen the house, Isabelle took us through the gardens, pointing out the large entertaining areas in the backyard, including the previous owner's pride and joy, a huge gas and charcoal grill. I had to laugh as Paul drooled all over it. He's a man who enjoys "putting the heat to the meat" - fine with me, means less cooking for yours truly. The pool was a sparkling blue, as well as the spa. Isabelle pointed out the high fences and the trees and bushes giving the area total privacy.

We went back into the house, and Isabelle offered us bottled water from the refrigerator - that was a nice touch, I liked it. And I was parched. We sat at the breakfast table, which had a great view of the garden.

"Okay, now's your chance to ask the tough questions," Isabelle smiled.

The view of the gardens sparked my first question. "The gardens are lovely, but with the travelling we do, I just don't know how we could manage the upkeep."

"I live next door, and my garden is probably as large as this one. I have a gardener who comes once a week to keep things tidy," Isabelle said. "The same with the pool, even the cleaning. I can recommend any number of reputable firms to handle those things. My own housekeeper is maintaining this house at the moment."

I couldn't help myself, my eyes skimmed across the kitchen and floors. This house was spotless, so Isabelle's housekeeper was good. That was a recommendation right there.

Paul then asked about the security in the area. Isabelle nodded. "Well, you've already seen this is a gated community. The security post is manned 24/7, and the alarm systems can be wired to alert both there and to the security company. Response time is around two minutes, although it's not often needed. I can't think of a problem here in the last two years, except for a drunk and disorderly ex-husband who made a nuisance of himself a few times. But that house has been sold."

"What about the neighbours?" I asked. I'm a very private person. So is Paul. I couldn't see us living in a place where the neighbours dropped in all the time.

"Well, there's me on one side - I'm quiet as a church mouse and most respectable," Isabelle winked, and smiled warmly at me. "And on the other side are the Potters. They're a lovely couple in their 60s. But they spend a lot of time travelling to be with their children. They are probably only here maybe six weeks at a stretch before they get itchy feet again. As for the rest of the community - well, I'd describe it as friendly but discreet. We do have the occasional community party, but mostly we just nod, smile and keep going. No need to worry about nosy neighbours wanting to be invited every day." I was a bit surprised - was she reading my mind? But she smiled again, and I had the feeling she realised why I had asked. Apart from the privacy thing, I am a little shy. I know, I might look like an Amazon, but there it is.

"Would there be problems if we wanted to throw parties?" Paul asked. I chuckled - I could see his mind working. He was envisaging enormous barbeques around that huge grill out there.

"So long as it didn't involve naked people roaming the streets and setting fire to things, I think you'll be okay. The houses are set pretty far apart, and the trees and gardens block a lot of sound. Toby and Liz, the previous owners, certainly threw some wild ones, and I didn't hear anything that kept me awake. You do need to make sure security is informed of your guest list though - they won't let anyone in without authorisation. It's hard to have fun at your own party when the security post is calling every five minutes to question if they can let the next guest through."

"And the security guys can be trusted to protect our privacy? I mean, they wouldn't talk to a journalist or anything like that about us living here?"

"Absolutely not. The security guards, and there are two on each shift, are thoroughly investigated and bonded. We've never had a problem with anything like that."

"How many people in the entertainment industry have you had living here though?" Paul asked.

"None that I know of. But there are people living here who are millionaires in the business world. Their affairs are just as sensitive as an entertainer's, in terms of wanting to maintain their privacy. Are you in the entertainment industry?"

I couldn't believe it - she didn't know who we were! Small ouch to the ego there. I was the Ninth Wonder of the World, and she didn't even know it. I smothered a grin.

"We both are - we're professional wrestlers," Paul explained.

"Oh, then it may reassure you to know we have someone who is with the New York Yankees living here. Perhaps you might speak to him, see if he's happy with the security arrangements," Isabelle said.

Paul shook his head. "No need, just the fact that he still lives here is good enough for me. And the price we discussed last week - have there been any offers I'd need to beat?"

"No, the price we discussed last week still stands. I'll give you some time if you'd like to talk about it privately."

Paul and I looked at one another and smiled. "No need," Paul said. "We'd like to buy the house."

"That's great," smiled Isabelle, and she seemed genuinely pleased at the prospect of having us as neighbours. "I have a contract, but I will need to send it to your bank to register any mortgage details."

"No mortgage," Paul said. "We'll pay the purchase price in full." That was something very nice about being successful in our profession, it certainly paid well.

Once the paperwork was completed, Isabelle explained that the purchase price would be held in escrow until the titles could be transferred, but it should only take a few weeks before we could move in. Paul and I smiled at each other again. We would soon have our new house!

Isabelle led us outside and locked the doors behind her.

"I'll be in touch when we're ready to sign the title deeds, and then it's all yours," she said as we climbed into the Humvee.

"Great! Can't wait!" Paul said, and we waved goodbye and drove off.

We grinned at one another. Paul had told me it was a fabulous house and he was right on the money. I was already thinking about new paint for some of the rooms, and new drapes. It's true, the current Intercontinental Champion was currently deep into the interior decorating universe. The feel of Paul's hand on my thigh - high up on my thigh - brought me back to reality in a hurry.

I looked over at him - he was still grinning, and he winked at me. "Want to go home and celebrate? We could farewell every room in the old house - just like we can christen every room in the new house."

Spung! I knew what I thought of that idea. I hated the Humvee - I thought it was an ugly damn car, and it had that stupid centre console in the way, when I wanted to sit real close to my man and get my hands on his fine body. I settled for unbuttoning my blouse slowly and telling him to drive faster. He got the idea. There was one good thing about the Humvee - it could get you were you wanted to go, and fast was not a problem.

Chapter 5 - Isabelle

Wow, two great sales in one day - I was definitely going to be getting AAva to give me a French Twist more often. And how amazing was it that Paul and his wife could afford to lay down that kind of money to buy a house in this neighbourhood outright? Professional wrestlers must make good money.

I opened a bottle of champagne and celebrated in the spa. What an exciting life, huh? I was between relationships at the moment, so there wasn't anyone to share this moment with.

After a glass or two, I placed a call to London to let Toby and Liz know that I'd sold their house. I had to hold the phone away from my ear as Liz squealed in delight.

"Oh Isabelle! How can we thank you? Are you absolutely sure you don't want a commission?"

"No Liz, I wouldn't take money from you for something so simple. Besides, I'm pretty flush just at the moment," I said slyly. Liz and I had been emailing regularly, and Liz was aware of the big deal I had been working on. I held the phone away from my ear again - just in time.

"You did it? You made the sale?" Liz almost punctured my eardrum that time.

"Indeed I did - I am drowning in cash at the moment, so I don't need a commission on your house. The best present you could give me will be the day you call me up and tell me I'm going to be an auntie."

Toby and Liz had gone back to England because they wanted to be near their families when they had their own children. I was going to miss being an Auntie by proxy. I loved kids, babies especially, but I wasn't sure I'd ever have any of my own because my relationship history wasn't so great. I had an idea why.

Mom had explained to me when I was old enough to understand why my father wasn't around. She said that some men just weren't suited for commitment, or for fatherhood. She had said she was glad he had made the decision to leave earlier rather than later, because it had caused the minimum disruption for me. I was what mom always referred to as a "joyous accident". I never felt like I wasn't wanted, or loved, but I was most definitely unplanned. Mom's take, which was typical of her, was that she knew my dad wasn't always going to be around (she already knew he wasn't into commitment) and she was lucky enough to be left with me as a reminder of the very good times they had had together, rather than left all alone.

I didn't think mom had been all that much into commitment either, because while she had dated as I was growing up, it never seemed to last long. She loved those men, and she was never cruel to them, but the relationships never seemed to go anywhere.

Over the years, I learned some things from my mom about love and life. That sometimes relationships are only meant to be for moments, that others last well beyond that. That sometimes friends turn into lovers, or lovers may be better as friends. That there may not be "the one", but there may be a series of "right" men, who fill needs at different times in your life. That you should cherish those men when they were with you, and not mourn for them when the relationship ended, because doing so would cheapen the memory of the good times.

I dated, but I figured that I had taken after both my parents and wasn't much good on the whole commitment thing either. I enjoyed the men I was with, but could never seem to let them get too close to me. Perhaps mom's example hadn't been the best one I could have had.

I chatted a little while longer with Liz, and then hung up the phone and drank some more champagne and through about what I was going to do with my nice fat bonus cheque. By the time the bottle was finished, I was well and truly waterlogged, not to mention pretty much plastered - but I did have a plan for my commission.

I was going to pay off my mortgage, and then I was going to treat myself to a vacation. I thought a little cruise would be nice - a week or so on the Queen Mary II sounded pretty good. I'd seen a travel documentary about it a few months ago. So what if I came back about 20 pounds heavier from the fabulous food? I'd be pampered and treated like a princess - which is what I figured a girl should do when she'd closed the deal of a lifetime.

And then I figured I'd find some property to invest the rest in. Like I said, I'm a total slut for good property.

Chapter 6 - Paul

Isabelle was a great broker, no doubt about it. She had arranged the title deeds within the next week, and the same day she was handing us the keys. I've never seen Joanie so stoked - well, maybe I have, but not in anything outside an intimate setting, if you catch my drift. And before you accuse me of ego, let me just say that I am that damn good. Well, at least I am with Joanie.

Joanie had the time of her life working with an interior designer, choosing paint colours and drapes. I left it all up to her. Not that I'm the kind of guy who thinks it's not cool to get involved with that sort of thing, but because she was having so much fun. Me - well, I was more into arranging for someone to pack our current house and move us in, the sooner the better. Because I was planning a monster barbeque for the 4th of July weekend - I'd invited most of the roster, and was planning the party to end all parties to celebrate our new home.

Joanie dropped in to see Isabelle one day while she waited for the interior designer to show up, and invited her to the party. We both really liked Isabelle, even on such short acquaintance. And she was going to be our neighbour after all. But she had already booked a vacation, which disappointed Joanie, for more than one reason.

You see, Joanie is a matchmaker - an incorrigible one. And Isabelle was single. Lots of guys on the roster are single. Get the picture? I love my wife, but I was kind of glad Isabelle wasn't going to make it to the 4th of July bash. I just didn't think she was the kind of lady who'd get along with a bunch of rowdy wrestlers - let alone start dating one of them, which is pretty sure to be what Joanie was angling for.

The day we were finally moving in, we pulled into the drive of our new house pretty early. We'd roped in some friends to oversee the valet pack at our old house, while we went on ahead to get things ready for the first delivery at the new house. Isabelle had given us a tip we thought would be a great idea. She'd suggested that the first thing we should take into the house was our bathroom stuff. A couple of sets of fresh towels, soap and stuff, toothbrushes - basically the contents of our old bathroom. And a set of clean sheets, blankets and pillows.

The idea was that we would have everything we needed to wash up and stay fresh during the day, which would keep us feeling good. Then we should get the movers to unload our bed first, so that we could make it up straight away. That way, the first night, we'd have everything all ready to shower and get into bed - after a day that was likely to have been pretty busy.

Isabelle had been heading for her car when we arrived. She waved and tossed her purse into the car, then disappeared back into her house. When she came back out, she was holding a large cooler. I went over to take it from her - it looked pretty heavy.

"Where would you like this, Bella?" Well, she was lovely - and Joanie didn't mind. Joanie knows she has my heart, even if my eyes wander sometimes. I am a man, after all. If I don't look, please bury me, because it means I am dead and have just forgotten to lie down.

"Actually, it's more a case of where would you like it. I packed you a picnic lunch and some bottled water, to make sure you got something nice to eat while you worked."

"Bella!" Joanie cried, and gave her a big hug. "That is so thoughtful, thank you." Bella blushed a little - or maybe it was the early stages of suffocation. Joanie's pretty strong, and Bella wasn't that big.

"Don't forget, I've been selling houses a long time. I know what it's like - you're working hard, and there's nothing to eat. But you don't want to stop and go and get anything, because you have to supervise the movers, and then you figure you'll just go out to dinner later, only you're tired and grubby and not fit for anything. So you order in pizza and spend the night with acid indigestion. Not the ideal first evening in your new home."

I had to grin at that. "You been peeking on your buyers?"

"Nope, I've moved a time or two myself. When I moved here, the Potters did this same thing for me. I'm just paying it forward. And tonight, you're coming to my house for dinner, and you'll be taking back the fixings for breakfast with you when you leave."

My wife's eyes were bright with unshed tears at this kindness. I put down the cooler and grabbed Bella in a hug of my own.

She stepped away, her own eyes looking bright now too. "Your movers will be here soon, and I have to get to work. See you tonight for dinner?" She turned and headed for her car, leaving Joanie and I somewhat stunned. This was one hell of a nice woman.

She was dead right though - we did work hard all day, even though we'd arranged a valet unpack. The two of us were all over the house, answering questions on where things should go. We both knew that we'd end up moving lots of stuff around later, but for now, just getting it out of cartons and into closets and cabinets was great.

The picnic lunch of salads, sandwiches and fresh fruit was a welcome respite when the movers took their meal break, and it was great having cold bottled water too. We even had a chance to freshen up with a shower in the middle of the day, together. Hey, what can I tell you? We hadn't gotten around to christening the shower yet. But we had christened the walk in closet one afternoon after the interior designer left. I make a point of never breaking a promise to my wife.

Finally, around 6.30pm, it was done. The last load had arrived from our old house and been moved into the new one. It was all unpacked. And we were exhausted. Isabelle had been right - we had no fresh food in the house yet, and no energy to cook it even if we did. And we really didn't feel like going out to a restaurant. So we took her up on her offer. We showered, together again, but this time it was no more than just washing one another's backs. Okay, so I washed Joanie's front too. But we were too tired for much of anything else. We dressed in clean clothes, and walked next door.

When we wandered home a couple of hours later, we knew a couple of new things. One was that Bella was a damn fine cook. And the other was that she was kind. She saw Joanie's head beginning to droop, and all but ordered me to take my wife home and put her to bed. She also sent us packing with bagels, cream cheese and freshly ground coffee for breakfast the following morning, along with a basket of fresh fruit.

I did protest at that - I mean, we weren't exactly poor, and this woman had fed us all day! All she would say was that we should do as she had done, and pay the favour forward to new neighbours of our own sometime in the future. When I promised her we would, I meant it.

Chapter 7 - Isabelle

I got back from my week long cruise sporting a deep tan, feeling thoroughly pampered and relaxed. I'd even had a couple of shipboard romances - nothing serious, just fun, but nice nonetheless. When I let myself into my home, I was confronted by a huge arrangement of flowers from Liz and Toby. The card said they were in lieu of a commission, and to announce that I was going to be an auntie in about 6 months! As I buried my face into the sweet smelling blooms, I thought that I'd seldom had a "commission" that pleased me as much. Well, okay, my huge bonus was pretty fine, but this was nicer because it came from the heart.

Paul and Joanie were well settled in their new house. They had me over for dinner a couple of times, and I enjoyed their hospitality - and their company. They were so happy together, so in tune with one another.

I had watched a few of the wrestling shows, out of curiousity, and was amazed. The sheer physicality of it - that certainly explained their muscles. And the attitudes - Paul was nothing like that in real life, nor was Joanie. I began to understand after the first few shows that wrestling was rather like opera. Only there was fighting and "trash talking" instead of singing to deliver the libretto. On that level, I could enjoy it. I loved opera too, even if I couldn't speak a word of Italian.

Paul and Joanie travelled probably five days a week. It was a gruelling timetable, and I didn't know how they managed it. But one day a few months after they had moved in, Joanie came over on one of their rare days at home while Paul was working out in their home gym.

I was in the front garden, planting some fall seedlings. Yes, I have a gardener, but there is something decidedly satisfying about getting your hands in the earth and making things grow.

Joanie said hi, knelt down beside me and helped for a few minutes, then sat back on her heels. I looked up at her. She was smiling very widely.

"Give," I said with a giggle. I just knew this was going to be good.

"I'm 'retiring' - Paul and I want to start our family," Joanie was lit up like a Christmas tree.

I couldn't help myself - I grabbed Joanie in a huge hug. "That's wonderful! I can be Auntie Isabelle who lives next door!" Joanie and I had grown quite close, even with Joanie being gone so often, and we had discussed children on a couple of occasions. Joanie loved the idea of having an "Auntie" close by.

"Well, now you just start taking good care of yourself," I told her, sitting back on my heels. "Preconception health is extremely important, you know."

"Yes mother," Joanie teased me.

"Well, it will be nice to have you around a little more. Only how . . ." I didn't quite know how to ask.

Joanie chuckled. "We'll work around it. I have about a gazillion frequent flyer miles, so I'm sure I can fly out to wherever he is when it's time to make babies."

"I'll be praying for you, Joanie," I promised.

Chapter 8 - Joanie

Because I was now home, and Paul was "injured" (i.e. having a small vacation), there were a few more parties, and we invited Bella to most of them. Sometimes, she could make it, and she always seemed to have a great time. So much for Paul's theory that she wouldn't get on with a bunch of wrestlers. Paul warned me about not matchmaking. I did try, but sometimes I felt like I had to . . . intervene.

For example, one memorable evening, Bella ended up sitting with John Layfield. She was confused by the whole wrestling name thing. I mean, the guys were just as likely to call one another by their character names one minute and their real names the next. Sometimes that had to do with the amount of beer consumed. People were calling him both John and "Bradshaw". Finally Bella sorted out that his "real" name was John, and they got to talking about real estate and ended up in a friendly debate over the merits of real estate verses stock portfolios as investments.

I should have been watching more closely, seeing as it was John. They were drinking beer, and Bella hadn't realised just how much beer she'd had until she stood up and found her legs wouldn't work. It was pretty amusing, the way she sort of slithered on to the grass.

John thought that was hysterically funny, and Nathan Jones, a brawny Australian wrestler who was new to the roster, helped to pick her up and put her back on her chair, commenting about her getting "legless". That started Bella laughing too. John had put another beer in her hand and told her that since she was already shit-faced, a few more couldn't hurt. She had just taken a mouthful of beer, and at that she suddenly spat it out as she got laughing again, and Nathan accused her of trying to steal Paul's water spit gimmick.

I watched John like a hawk from that point. He was pretty obviously taken with Bella, but she really was out of it. I got involved when his hand made its way to her thigh - I've known John for a lot of years and I could see where this was going. I helped Bella home and put her to bed, over John's violent objections that he could do it. Like I was going to let him take Bella anywhere alone.

He approached me later in the evening and asked me if I would give him Bella's phone number. He said he wanted to discuss real estate investments with her. Uh-huh. I told him I'd have to ask Bella before I did that.

Bella was okay with it when I asked her about it the next day. We were lounging by her pool, because Bella had something of a hangover. She asked me to remind her to give me a business card for John before I left.

I felt like I had to warn her about him. "Bella, be careful around John. He's a nice guy, and he is a financial whiz, but he is also a real ladies' man. He was looking real hard for an excuse to put the moves on you last night."

She looked at me over the top of her sunglasses, and then smiled. "I'm a big girl, Joanie. Don't worry about me. I'm more likely to break John's heart than he is to break mine."

I felt kind of sorry about that. Bella was such a great woman, but she just didn't seem to have much luck with relationships.

Chapter 9 - Paul

Five months had passed, and Joanie still wasn't pregnant. It wasn't for lack of trying. We had been doing everything the books suggested, but every month Joanie was upset when it didn't work.

I'd been doing some research on the internet, and I knew it could take up to a year to fall pregnant, even under the best conditions, but it was eating away at Joanie. I hated how unhappy she was every month when it was obvious that we had "failed" again.

I also hated the pain I could see in her eyes when our friends were at the house with their kids. Mick and Colette came one weekend with their three kids, who Joanie adored. But Joanie just wasn't the same with them, even with Noelle, who she loved so much. It was time for us to seek medical advice, even if it were just to give her some peace of mind.

I took a week of leave with another "injury", and we made the rounds of the doctors. The results came in, and it was good news and bad news. We were both fertile, but Joanie had severe uterine fibroids, which made it difficult for implantation of the fertilized egg to take place. She was scheduled for surgery to remove the fibroids, and then we would undergo IVF to see if that would help us conceive.

I tried a half-hearted joke that at least the ribbing I was getting would stop. Half the company knew the reason why Joanie had "retired", so when she showed up at a venue, they were pretty sure why she was there. But Joanie didn't laugh. I did the only thing I could think of - I pulled her into my arms and held her close while she wept.

Eventually, she told me what was upsetting her. She felt like a failure. I have to admit I was scared about my wife going under the knife, but I didn't think any of this was her "fault". But I think the thing that worried her the most was the whole IVF route, like it somehow negated her as a woman. There wasn't much I could say to that except to take her to bed and love her the best I could. It didn't matter to me if she could get pregnant at all, I would love her the rest of my life, and I tried very hard to prove that to her.

The surgery went well, and once she recovered, we started our first cycle of IVF. She was a little better about the IVF once we went to the clinic for the first time, and saw all the different women who needed help to get pregnant. I, on the other hand, hated the whole process, if only what it did for Joanie. The drugs made her feel awful, and the pain in her belly before they retrieved her eggs seemed pretty bad. While my end of the deal was to get locked in a room with my wife and a bunch of "inspiratonal" material so I could jack off into a cup. Seemed kind of unfair that she had to deal with all the bad stuff while I got to do something that comes pretty naturally for guys.

On the up side, the doctors were delighted to collect so many eggs. And they were even more pleased when they ended up with so many good quality embryos to implant. We really were very fertile together, and that made us feel good.

But there the good news ended. Twice, Joanie had embryos transferred, and twice she failed to conceive. A further scan showed that the fibroids were already recurring, and there would be no chance for her to carry a child.

I just did not know what to do to help her. She went to Bella at one point, probably because she thought Bella as another woman might understand how she was feeling. And I went to Bella too, trying to find a way to comfort Joanie. But mostly, Joanie and I just held one another all night, grieving for the babies we weren't going to have.

Chapter 10 - Isabelle

What a bad day. Joanie and Paul had found out that they weren't going to be able to have babies after all they had been through with IVF. They both came to see me, separately, and I really didn't know how to help them. What do you say to someone when their dreams of having children are smashed? "Sorry" just does not cover it.

I lay in bed that night, and felt the twinges that signalled that my period was about to start. My cycle was pendulum steady at 28 days, and I'd never had a moment's problem with my reproductive system. Joanie had suffered terrible cramps, she'd told me once, which the doctors now felt was probably because of the fibroids.

I headed for the bathroom for my sanitary pads, and I was struck by the irony of it. I could probably have a dozen babies, even though I wasn't probably ever going to, given my commitment issues, and Joanie, who wanted nothing more than to have her husband's babies, couldn't. What a screwed-up world it was sometimes.

The next morning, it hit me like a lightning bolt. I dressed in a hurry and then scooted next door to see if Joanie and Paul were awake. I found them on the back terrace. Neither of them looked like they had slept well.

"Okay, please tell me if I am being too personal here, but you two can make babies but Joanie just can't carry them - is that right?"

Joanie nodded, and my heart went out to her. The pain in her eyes was immense.

"How about having someone else carry your baby for you? A surrogate mother? Like maybe . . . me?" I held my breath. I really hoped I hadn't made a mistake in this. I usually am a little more rational, and I certainly think about things a little more before leaping in, but this just felt so right. Deep down, I knew it was what I should do.

Paul and Joanie stared at me, open-mouthed. "Are you serious?" Paul asked, as Joanie took his hand in a tight grip.

"Utterly, completely serious," I replied, sitting in a chair opposite them.

"You would do this for us?" Joanie had found her voice.

"In a heartbeat."

"Why?"

"Because it stinks, you know? You two great people want to have babies and love them, and you physically can't do it. And I've got all the plumbing working perfectly, and I'm never likely to let a relationship ever go far enough to even consider having a child. I'm not using my uterus right now, so consider it a room for rent. If you want it," I spoke without hesitation. "And there's also the fact that I love you both dearly, and it's killing me to see you so unhappy."

Chapter 11 - Paul

Bella burst into tears, and Joanie followed suit. The two women reached for one another and hugged tightly, still sobbing.

I could only stroke Joanie's back gently and wait to see what happened. It had to be Joanie's decision.

But I hoped she would say yes, because all I had ever wanted, since the moment I met her, was to have a baby with her. We had put everything on hold to consolidate our careers and be financially settled, and now it should be happening. If Bella could do this for us, I would be the happiest man in all creation - my wonderful Joanie, and a baby from Joanie and me. But it all rested in Joanie's hands.

Finally, Joanie sat up, wiping her eyes with her hands. Bella was doing the same. Joanie looked at me, and then at Bella. Then she smiled.

"Bella, we'd like to ask you to be a surrogate mother for our baby."

It turned out to be reasonably simple. We made an appointment for the following day with the IVF clinic, and all three of us went. The doctor explained that Connecticut had no laws prohibiting surrogacy, but recommended that we establish something called a Gestational Surrogacy Agreement as a form of contract, which could be used if there were any disputes in future. He even gave us a sample contract to use as a guideline.

Once that agreement was signed, he could perform the embryo transfer, but he did want to examine Bella the following day, to ensure that she was capable of "hosting the pregnancy", as he put it.

From the IVF clinic, we went to a meeting with our lawyers. The only argument we had was about the payments to the host mother suggested in the sample contract. Bella wanted nothing to do with money, insisting she was doing this out of love for us. The final agreement was that Joanie and I would pay medical expenses, and contribute an average weekly salary for Bella for the period before and after the birth when she wouldn't be able to work. Joanie also insisted on buying Bella's maternity clothes, mostly because it didn't seem fair for her to pay for clothes she probably wouldn't wear again.

The papers were drawn up and signed the following morning, and we presented ourselves at the clinic. If the doctor was surprised at the speed at which we had moved, he didn't show it, but he agreed that everything was legally in order. He then looked at Joanie and I and said, "I think that Ms McLaughlin and I can take it from here. I don't usually have an audience for this kind of thing."

That made us all laugh, but Bella told the doctor that she wanted Joanie present. She was giggling as she said, "Not that I want you looking over the business end of the equipment, mind, but I'd never let anyone lease a property without at least a cursory inspection."

She winked at me as she left the room. I knew why she wanted Joanie there - she wanted Joanie to feel as involved as possible, so there would be no awkwardness and she felt like she was a part of the process of having our babies.

Chapter 12 - Joanie

I held Bella's hand while the doctor performed an internal exam, asked questions about her reproductive history and general health and performed an ultrasound. I felt Bella's hand clutch mine tightly as the ultrasound screen showed a normal healthy uterus. I would not think about my own substandard uterus, I wouldn't.

She smiled up at me and said, "See? What did I tell you? Prime real estate, great views and just waiting to be occupied. Right doc?"

The doctor looked up and said with a smile, "Correct. Perfectly healthy reproductive system. I think we can hope for a good outcome here."

The doctor and I left while Bella dressed, and then she joined us in the doctor's office.

"Ms McLaughlin is in excellent health, both reproductive and otherwise. We could schedule embryo transfer," he consulted his calendar and did some calculations,"in 17 days. That would be an optimal time. We do need to consider how many embryos to implant."

"What's considered normal?" Bella asked. I knew the answer, but it was her womb we were using now, so I let the doctor answer.

"Well, depending on the number of embryos available, and their quality, we recommend two or three. In this case, we have very good quality embryos, but they have been frozen. I'd suggest three on that basis. There would be a risk of a multiple pregnancy however, although it is more likely to be twins than triplets."

I looked at Bella. "How would you feel about that?"

"Well, I don't know about triplets, but twins sounds okay. Then you'd have two babies!"

The doctor nodded. "That's sound thinking. I think we'll start with two. If we don't have any success, we can always try three next time. Make an appointment with the nurse for transfer in 17 days. She'll give you a sheet on what to do before then." He thanked us, and ushered us out of his office.

Later, we sat around the breakfast table in our house, going over the list of do's and don'ts. It all seemed pretty standard, but Bella laughed out loud when she read number 1, which read "Do not have unprotected sex at any time from the cessation of menstrual flow".

"Like I'd be that dumb!"

Paul meantime was checking his schedule, and suddenly groaned. "I'm not going to be here for the transfer. I knew that date rang bells - I have a show to do in Arizona."

I froze. I had assumed Paul would be here - I don't know why it bothered me that he wouldn't. I mean, he had been there for my two transfers, but that was because it was me. Did he really need to be there in the room when they did the transfer into Bella's uterus? She reached out and patted my hand. She was doing that mind reading thing again, and I wondered if I were really that transparent.

"We can manage without him, Joanie. If we have to try to arrange this around Paul's schedule, we might never get it done. Just out of curiousity, Paul, what are you doing 28 days after the first transfer date?"

Paul looked, and said with disgust, "We have a Pay Per View that weekend, I'll be needed for Fan Axxess."

"Joanie, let's go ahead anyway. You can be there with me, and hopefully in a month or so, you can call Paul and tell him you're pregnant," Bella squeezed my hand again.

Chapter 13 - Isabelle

Joanie and I sat in the doctor's office at the IVF clinic, waiting for the results of my bloodtest. The door opened behind us, and the doctor strode in with the labtest flimsy in his hand.

He sat in his chair and looked at us, and then smiled. "Congratulations. You're pregnant."

We sat stunned for a moment, then hugged one another and started to cry. But the doctor wasn't finished.

"I do need to tell you that, from these hormone levels, there is a very good possibility that both embryos have implanted. I'd lay odds you are carrying twins, Ms McLaughlin."

He told us be patient for a few more days, because a repeat bloodtest would be needed to confirm the pregnancy was advancing. The waiting was tough, but four days later, the news was still good. The hormone levels were still climbing, and it appeared that Paul and Joanie's twins had both made themselves at home in their borrowed room - or should I say womb?

I refused to stay with Joanie when she called Paul to tell him the news. But I did invite Joanie to come over later and let me know how it went, if she felt up to it.

Chapter 14 - Paul

My cellphone rang as I was on my way back to the hotel after a personal appearance. It was Joanie. I had been waiting for days to hear the results of the test, which was supposed to have been in earlier this week.

"Joanie? Baby, is everything okay?" She was crying, and I felt my heart wrench. It hadn't worked after all.

"Brace yourself Paul - it looks like we're having twins," Joanie managed to say through her tears.

"Twins? Are you . . . oh my god . . . oh Joanie . . ." I couldn't speak. I felt tears prick my eyes. "Baby, I am on the next flight, I want to be with you."

Joanie was sobbing into the phone, while I tried to reassure her that I would be home as soon as I could. Finally she calmed down enough for me to tell her I loved her and say goodbye.

It took all the control I had to make it to my hotel room, but once I was there I am not ashamed to say that I bawled like a baby. I was happy that our babies were growing in Bella's body, but I wept for my wife, who had to be going through hell right now. After a long while, I pulled myself together enough to call Jim Ross and explain the situation. He agreed to give me some time off to be with Joanie.

I knew I was lucky to get it. I'm not big-headed, but I'm aware that I'm a major drawcard in the company. That means my absence can cost the company money in ticket sales. But on the upside, I rarely ever missed a show or an appearance, so I guess I was entitled to a little time off now and then. And Joanie - well, everyone loved Joanie, and word had already travelled about what we were going through. Not in a mean way, but the company is like a family and news, whether it's bad or good, gets around. And I think some of the guys would have kicked my ass if I had turned up at the shows in the next week, rather than going home to be with my wife.

So I called a cab, and while I was on the way to the airport our travel people got me on a flight home as soon as possible. When I landed in Stamford, I grabbed a cab. I told the driver there was a hundred dollars in it for him if he got me home as quick as he could. He did pretty well - I was walking in our front door less than fifteen minutes later.

Dropping my case, I wondered where Joanie would be. I had a hunch I knew, and took the stairs to our bedroom three at a time. She was curled up on our bed, weeping. I was with her in moments, and she turned into my arms and buried her face in my chest. I could feel her tears quickly soaking my shirt. And all I could do was hold her in my arms and let her cry. My darling Joanie, crying like her heart would break. I wondered if we had made the right decision after all.

Chapter 15 - Isabelle

I walked in though my front door after leaving Joanie at her car, and didn't really know what to do - or feel. I was carrying my friends' babies in me. My hands went unconsciously to my belly. And for an awful moment, I didn't know if I was glad or not. How was this going to make Joanie feel, watching my belly swell with the children she couldn't carry?

I felt my eyes welling with tears, and a strange kind of lassitude swamped me. All I wanted to do was go upstairs and lie down. But I remembered the instructions we'd gotten from the doctor about prenatal care, and knew I should eat something first. I almost sleep-walked to the kitchen and put together a chicken salad. I sat in the conservatory and ate it, not really tasting it. Then I put my dish in the dishwasher and went up to bed. I glanced at the clock - it was barely 6.30pm, and I had told JJoanie to come over if she needed to. But I didn't think she would. Somehow, I figured, right now I was the last person she wanted to see.

I undressed and climbed into bed, and was asleep within minutes. And when I woke the next morning, my pillow was damp, as if I had cried in my sleep. I would have pondered this a little longer, but sudden nausea sent me running for the bathroom. It doesn't help to know that it's the pregnancy hormones making you feel ill when you are hunched over the toilet. It really doesn't.

After I while, I felt steady enough to get up. I took a quick shower and put on a robe. I knew I had to get some breakfast, because an empty stomach was going to make the nausea worse. I felt woefully under-prepared for this. Maybe I should have done a little more research on pregnancy! I nibbled some toast, and had a few spoonfuls of yoghurt, and my stomach settled. That was okay. I reread the information sheet the doctor had given us, and knew it was just not going to be enough.

I wandered into my home office and booted up my computer to go shopping. Amazon had a couple of likely sounding books, including one on multiple birth pregnancy, so I ordered them. I surfed around a bit and got some further information which had me feeling a little better. These good old pregnancy hormones were likely to make my emotions as screwy as hell too, which explained the whole crying in my sleep thing. But I also got some information that caused me to cringe. In multiple birth pregnancies, there were way more of these pregnancy hormones, so morning sickness usually kicked in much sooner, and may even last all day! Yikes! One recommended way of dealing with it was to "graze" all day, eating small amounts often so that your blood sugar stayed pretty constant.

Well, I wasn't quite sure how I was going to manage that in the office, and constantly out showing houses. Oh, this was looking like it wasn't going to be such a simple thing. I grabbed a glass of apple juice and stretched out on the day lounge in the conservatory to think.

Even before the whole surrogacy thing had come up, I had felt like I was at a crossroads with my career. I was very successful, and it was beyond time I moved out to start my own firm. But I wanted to stay involved with selling - that was what I loved. I didn't want tto end up bogged down in management. I'd been thinking for a while about just having a one-woman operation, but I couldn't really compete with the other firms on that basis. And then I'd had a conversation with John Layfield a while back about internet brokerages, and how people were turning more and more to the internet to do their research before even consulting a broker.

He was right - what had I done myself just this morning? Researched pregnancy! He had also said that people were becoming more comfortable even transacting online for major expenditures like stocks and bonds. Brokers who wanted to maintain a client base were having to work out ways that they could value add so that clients could see the worth in using a broker rather than doing it themselves.

An embryonic idea began to form in my head. Could I run a real estate firm online? Show houses via virtual tours, allow for price enquiries and offers online? What about a partnership with a mortgage firm? Could people even apply for preliminary finance online, so they knew in advance how much they could spend? But what would be the value add - why would they come to me?

I sat bolt upright as the answer came to me - they would come to me, because I would come to them! If I could get a mortgage firm to partner with me, we could arrange for the mortgage paperwork to be done at the buyer's home at a convenient time, even after hours. We could arrange house inspections at almost anytime, but for mortgages, people usually had to go to a lender during the day. How much more convenient would it be not to have to take time off work, but to do the mortgage paperwork in your own home, where you could get any document you needed straight away? Where you could feel relaxed talking about your financial situation? I had seen mortgage firms where they didn't even use offices for interviews, just cubicles! *

I got off the daybed and started pacing. This could work, I knew it could. And it could be a small operation. I would need a webmaster, someone who was able to set up a complex site with good quality virtual tours. And the mortgage partner. An administrative assistant and me. But could I afford this? Could I afford to be without an income until it started to pay off? I had investments which would support me, but I didn't know if they would extend to supporting this fledgling business. And I had no idea yet about start-up costs. But I knew someone who was good with this sort of thing.

So I headed for the phone to call John Layfield. But first I detoured to the downstairs bathroom to throw up again.

*Hey, I'm sure that this kind of thing is already being done. But Isabelle is getting credit for it in Connecticut. My story, my rules! LOL!

Chapter 16 - Joanie

I was so confused about how I felt, the first few months of "my" pregnancy. Bella called it that. She said they weren't her babies, so it couldn't be her pregnancy. It made me laugh, especially the first time. She'd come over to see us, but seconds later had bolted for the bathroom. When she returned, looking a little pale, she had sat down at the table and said, "Damn Joanie, I could really live without your morning sickness."

When Paul had come home, after I told him about the positive test, I did not know if we had done the right thing. I just wept constantly, thinking about my babies being in someone else. Paul did the smart thing, and arranged for me to see a counsellor at the IVF clinic to talk about how I felt. Well, mostly what I did was cry at the poor woman at first, but eventually she helped me sort out my feelings.

I did start to see the good side of things. There were lots of couples who couldn't have their own children at all. Some had to rely on donor sperm or donor eggs. We had our own biological children to look forward too. And we had other options too. We could always adopt. We had wanted a big family, but I just could not see us continually using surrogates for that. Our biological twins would be wonderful, but we could adopt a houseful of other children too.

The day of Bella's first ultrasound was tough. I hadn't spent much time with the counsellor yet, so I was still pretty emotional. Luckily Paul was able to be there with me. Seeing the two little points of light that the doctor said were our babies was a bit overwhelming. The second ultrasound was better. We could actually see the flickerings that were their tiny hearts beating and I guess at that point it was real for all of us.

Paul and I just wept, holding one another tight. I'm ashamed to say, we sort of forgot about Bella. But when we turned, she was looking at us and smiling. "I'm glad your pregnancy is going so well, Joanie," was all she said.

Once we saw those little flickering lights, we were hooked. To hell with the expense, I wanted daily ultrasounds! But Paul thought that would be a little excessive. Excessive hell - I wanted to watch my babies growing!

Bella was the one who came up with the idea of buying an ultrasound machine of our own. I don't know where she got the notion, but we were all for it. The plan was that after the babies were born, we would donate the machine to a local community hospital. I liked that part of it too.

We arranged for a local nurse to come by every couple of nights so we could look at the babies. We got one of those great machines that could videotape the ultrasounds, and it was incredible to watch the progression from those two tiny flickering lights to little tiny tadpoles. I felt more in touch with the pregnancy every time!

It was really funny how Bella somehow . . . faded away . . . during the ultrasounds, like she was taking herself out of the picture. It's really hard to describe. She never said a word, it was like she wasn't even there. Paul and I could sit there, glued to the screen, watching our babies and almost forget that she was there. I don't mean to imply that she wasn't important to us. It was just more of Bella's extraordinary generosity of spirit. She was giving Paul and I privacy and space to commune with our babies the only way we could at the moment - through the ultrasound screen.

We still had regular checkups at the IVF clinic and Paul came along when he could. He was working a great storyline right now, and was giving it everything he had. The plans were structured so that he could end with some kind of massive event before the babies were due, and then take a long break. That was fine with me, I was looking forward to us being mommy and daddy together. But for now, all I could do was watch and wonder as our babies grew and prospered in Bella's womb.

Chapter 17 - Isabelle

John Layfield not only gave me great advice about setting up my online real estate brokerage, he invested in it. I finalised the current sales at the firm I worked for, and then gave my notice. John took a vacation and flew to Connecticut to help me set up the office I'd need. I had thought to simply run this business from home, but decided against it. As Joanie's babies made their presence felt, I wanted to keep my home a place of peace and calm. Besides, with a business partner, I didn't have to work on a shoestring budget any longer.

I was a little taken aback at the amount John wanted to invest. But when he arrived in Connecticut and I met his plane, I got the idea that this was a business partnership that he hoped would become something more personal. I had to level with him straight away. He was persistent, I'll give him that - he'd been flirting with me since that night at Paul and Joanie's place when we'd met. I had to step on him pretty hard to make him see it wasn't going to get him anywhere.

To his credit, he didn't sulk, nor did he pull out of our business venture. I think Joanie spoke to him at some point. I'd shared with Joanie about my woeful relationship track record. I don't think she warned him off or anything, but I got the feeling that she explained to him in nice simple terms why a woman like me wasn't going to be right for a man like him. Underneath it all, he was very soft-hearted, and Joanie knew I would just . . . well, "tear his heart out and crush it" sounds a little melodramatic, but I know myself. I didn't want to hurt him and Joanie knew that. Whatever the reason, he never mentioned it again, and we worked together well as business partners.

Our first clients were Paul and Joanie. Get the feeling that was a set up? Probably. Actually, by the time they approached me, John had gone back to work. He was a silent partner, so it's more accurate to say that they were "my" first clients.

Now, I had set up this business for people to find their own properties, but John persuaded me that there was also a market for people who wanted to use the internet to get a broker to find them a property. And it was all handled by my webmaster. I hired an incredibly talented computing grad student who not only listed the properties and constructed the virtual tour stuff, but also did comprehensive online searches for properties to meet the specifications of our clients. It quickly became a big part of the business, so I hired two dedicated search agents and let them handle that aspect.

Paul and Joanie wanted an investment property, and Joanie wanted to start her own gym. So we started looking. And we also got strong interest in our "self service" side. John and I had invested in a media campaign to get the ball rolling, and rolling it was. Soon I had to hire a photographer to go out and get the images for our virtual tours, and to inspect properties found on search so I knew whether or not to recommend them to our clients. It even looked like the business might break even at the six month point, and John and I were delighted, as our business plan projected break even at 12 months.

Best of all, I didn't have to work much. I did show houses, but as the pregnancy advanced, I decided that even that was too much. I hired a woman with the ink barely dry on her realtor's licence. She was on straight salary, but I figured this was a great place to start to learn the selling and presentation skills of real estate. I didn't expect her to be with me for more than six months or so, at which time I'd hire someone else.

So all of a sudden, all I had to do was sift though the lists of "possibles" that our searches showed up for clients like Paul and Joanie, send our photographer out to get some photos of the ones I felt were the best matches and then present the options. I didn't even have to go with them on inspections - my new realtor could do that.

I knew that once I'd given birth, I'd be bored with a role like this, and planned to get back into more active selling then, but for now, it was more than enough. Carrying twins was hard work, especially Paul and Joanie's twins, who were on track to be big babies.

I found I couldn't exercise as much as I was used to. But tai chi and yoga were still okay, and I found a yoga instructor who came to teach me some great moves to help strengthen my body for the birth. And swimming was still good - in fact, it was great. In the water, there wasn't the weight on my back from the babies.

There were days I spent hours in the pool or the spa, and today had been one of them. I was almost five months along, and looked every bit of it and then some. Thank goodness Joanie and I had bought what seemed like the entire contents of several maternity clothing stores a few months ago. I didn't think I'd be up for much shopping from now on.

Tonight, Paul and Joanie were throwing a party, and I was going along. If I knew Joanie, I'd be carefully ensconced in the most comfortable chair, with my feet up. And I'd be waited on hand and foot all night. Well, that part was kind of nice, but mostly I had to resist the urge to remind her that I wasn't made of china. The first time I had said, she and Paul had laughed until they cried. I didn't get the joke, until they reminded me that Joanie's wrestling name was "Chyna", and right now, I was actually chock-full of Chyna. Oh, and "Game".

Anyway, I reluctantly left the pool and headed upstairs to dress for the party. It was a warm night, so I chose a hot pink maternity shift. I just loved it, and was planning to have it retailored after the pregnancy so I could keep wearing it. I slipped on some flat sandals and brushed out my hair. It looked so pretty at the moment - something about pregnancy hormones apparently. But it was way too warm to wear it loose, so I spent some time putting it up in a French twist. While my work wasn't as good as Ava's, she had taught me to get it looking pretty stylish.

I stopped in my office on the way out - I had found some properties for Paul and Joanie to consider, and wanted to leave the papers with them to look at. I put my keys into the pocket of my shift and headed next door.

Chapter 18 - Paul

I was out on the terrace firing up the grill when I spotted Bella coming through the side gate. Damned if she just didn't look prettier every day. All those pregnancy hormones gave her this glow. Our twins were making her pretty big though - I figured just before she was due to give birth, she was going to look like a beached whale.

There was something about those thoughts that made me sad. I wondered how much more beautiful Joanie would be, with those hormones lighting her up from inside, or how she would look if she were carrying the babies. She'd probably do it a little better than Bella, with her height and build. My heart wrenched, and I put those ideas far from me. I had never asked Joanie how it made her feel, but I guessed she'd had a lot of the same thoughts herself. It was time to focus on the positive - this wonderful friend, who was giving us our precious babies.

I waved at her as she made her way carefully up the path, and turned back to the grill. The charcoal was coming on nicely, so we'd be ready to start cooking when everyone arrived. I checked my wristwatch, and realised Bella was a bit early. Then I noticed the folder in her hand - she obviously had some properties for us to look over.

"Hi Paul," she said as she reached the terrace. "Looks like you're cooking tonight. But then, any excuse to fire up the grill, huh?"

She knew me too well. So? I liked to barbeque. No one ever complained, although I did wonder if it was my cooking or JR's barbeque sauce that they enjoyed. Joanie said it was a primitive male urge to prove that we had mastered fire. I gave her the caveman treatment for that remark - I did her right here on the terrace. She often complained about my primitive urges now. Yep, I am that damn good.

"You looking for a beating?" I gave Bella my best "Game" face and she just laughed at me. Now, how was I supposed to intimidate this woman, who insisted that wrestling was like opera, for chrissakes?

"I've got something for you and Joanie to look at later," she said, waving the folder she was carrying.

I nodded. "Come on in the kitchen and see Joanie before everyone arrives."

But the party had already started - John was already smooching my wife in the kitchen. I gave him my Game face and he reacted the way people are supposed to - he backed away slowly with his hands up. Bella watched with a smile. Nope, I'd never scare her. I'd have to kill her - couldn't have it get around that the Game couldn't even intimidate a little woman like that. Then I thought what Joanie would do to me if I ever laid a hand on Bella and decided against the whole killing thing.

Bella walked over and gave Joanie a hug, and handed her the folder. "Take a look at these over the next couple of days and let me know what you think." Joanie put it on the sideboard.

John smiled at Bella and she waved at him. He seemed a bit unsure around her. They were business partners, but Joanie hinted to me once that he'd wanted more and Bella had said no. When the doorbell rang, John volunteered to answer it. I think he was just giving himself time to decide how to behave around her.

Bella turned to say something to Joanie, and then suddenly an expression of pain crossed her face. Joanie went white.

"Bella? What's wrong?"

"Ooooh! Baby push!" Bella gasped. Joanie and I guided her to one of the kitchen stools and helped her to sit down. It was one of Joanie's biggest fears - that something would happen to Bella or the babies. The ultrasounds were almost a daily event now. Joanie had been learning from the nurse how to operate it, and I had gotten a little too used to coming in to our workout room and seeing Bella on the massage table with her belly exposed, while Joanie watched the twins.

"Okay now?" I asked, as Bella settled herself in the stool in that odd half-reclining way pregnant women have. She smiled and nodded.

"They just woke up, I think, and started a little turf war. Happens sometimes, especially if I've been in the pool for a while," she explained. "Oh! Give me your hands!" Her tone was demanding, and we both stretched out a hand.

Bella guided each of our hands to a spot on her belly, and I felt a baby kicking. I looked over at Joanie, and from the look on her face I knew she was feeling the same thing.

"Those are your babies," Bella said softly. I leaned over to kiss my wife, feeling our babies move under our hands. It didn't matter right then that they were in another woman's body - it was just an incredible moment.

Chapter 19 - Mark

This was the first time I'd been to Paul and Joanie's place. I'd been out after having knee surgery, and hadn't been out of Texas much. Okay, so I was playing hermit - I'm a big enough man to admit it. I'd hated being so laid up, but the surgery was long overdue. And I stopped being a grouchy bastard as soon as I realised how much better my mobility was becoming. But I stayed away from the show. I wasn't going back til I was in bad ass shape again. I was definitely not going to be gimping around backstage.

It took a while to rehab, but I worked like hell at it. With the way my knees had been, I hadn't been looking the greatest. As soon as I could, I was getting in cardio workouts and I shed that extra weight pretty quick. And before that, I worked my upper body hard. I was in great shape for a guy who'd been around as long as I had.

I hadn't made my return to the show yet, but I'd been meeting with the writers in Stamford to get storyline and costume decisions made. I had to fight 'em on the hair. I'd been growing it while I rehabbed, and I liked it long. And I wasn't going to be dyeing it anymore either. Live with it. Sometimes a reputation as a bad ass can help you get your own way. You got to use what you got.

Paul had heard I was in town, and had called to invite me to a barbeque. What was I going to do? Say no? I'm a Texan - if you're throwin' half a steer on the grill, I'm there.

I walked up to the front door and knocked. I'd been stopped at the security post, but my name was on the list, so they let me straight in. I wondered how sanguine they would have been if I'd been in my leather vest, with all the tattoos on show. Sometimes I get the urge to devil people. What can I say?

"Shit! You old dog!"

John Layfield grabbed me in a bear hug. I guessed that Paul hadn't told anyone else I was coming tonight. Well, if John's good ol' boy welcome was anything to go by, they might just be pleased to see me.

"Man, it is so good to see you. We got to get in a few golf games, it's been too long," John was saying as he motioned me inside.

I had to agree with that. John and I always had a good time on the golf course, and I was looking forward to beating his ass now I was in better shape. But for now, I wanted a beer, and I wanted to see Paul and Joanie. John pointed toward the kitchen, and then turned back to the door as someone else knocked. I left him to it and headed for the kitchen.

I missed Joanie. I always had the greatest respect for her as a wrestler, but she was also a hell of a nice woman. I'd been real sad to hear about the trouble she was having with babies. That was too damn bad. So when I opened the door to the kitchen and saw what I saw, I really didn't know what to think.

There were Paul and Joanie, kissing. Nothing unusual about that, they were married to one another. The unusual part was the third person there. A very pretty lady, quite obviously pregnant. Again, women get pregnant all the time, except for my darlin' Joanie.

The really unusual thing was that the woman was holding Paul and Joanie's hands against her belly. And she was looking at them as they kissed with this look on her face. It was familiar, but it took me a little while to place it.

She looked like Madonna. Not the "Material Girl", but the one DaVinci painted. I'd seen that picture once in a touring exhibition from a Russian museum. Yes, I do actually sometimes take in cultural events, and I happen to like art museums. This picture had captivated me for ages. "Madonna and Child", it was called. The woman in the painting was breast feeding her baby. And the look on her face was just like the look on this woman's face. Such serenity and tenderness.

As I watched, a tear trickled down this madonna's face. I don't even think she realised it had fallen. She was just so . . . there with them. I started to feel like I had intruded on something far better left in private, so I was about to turn and leave when Paul and Joanie broke the kiss and noticed me, standing there in the doorway like a big doofus.

Paul obviously hadn't told Joanie I was coming either. Her jaw dropped and she hit me at a dead run. Paul grinned at me over her head as she threw her arms around me. I remembered how much he loved to surprise Joanie. Not that I was complaining - Joanie was currently hugging me within an inch of my life. And I was hugging her too. It felt pretty damned good.

Paul walked over to shake my hand, but I wasn't having any of that. I pulled the good looking bastard into a hug too. I may be macho and bad ass, but I love these people like family, and family don't shake hands, they hug.

But I was keeping an eye on the pretty lady too. She hadn't lost much of that tender look, but she had reached up and brushed away the tear. And now she was smiling - at Paul, at Joanie, and you know, I think she was smiling at me too. It was a great smile.

Hey, I'm under no illusions about myself. I'm a big man, so I get a fair bit of attention just because of my size. And then there's the tattoos and the long hair. I'm not bad looking, but I do get looked at, you know? But this lady was smiling at me like she didn't care what I looked like - it was more that I'd proved myself to her by how I was with Paul and Joanie.

Then she got this funny look on her face, and giggled. Paul and Joanie looked back at her, and she just giggled again. And I could see her belly moving under her dress. What the hell?

"Oh stop that!" She had her hands on her belly now, still giggling. She looked up at us. "Just a little more of that whole turf war thing, relax." She was talking to Paul and Joanie - I noticed how they had both tensed up.

Joanie was the one who grabbed my hand and dragged me forward to meet the little madonna with the pretty smile. "Bella, this is Mark Calaway. Mark, this is Isabelle McLaughlin."

Then she shocked me. With a look at Isabelle, who nodded, she took my hand and placed it on that pregnant belly. I could feel movement under my palm. Joanie said very quietly, "And these are our babies."

What the hell?

Paul stepped up beside Joanie and Isabelle, and explained. "Bella is our host mother. She's carrying our biological children."

"Children?"

It was the madonna who answered me. "Paul and Joanie are having twins." She giggled again. I still had my hand on her belly, and I felt two quite distinct . . . bumps moving there. "Who are currently engaged in a little sibling rivalry over their shared room - ah, womb."

She laughed. Oh boy. That was a great laugh. I realised that I still had my hand on her belly. I moved it away gently, still amazed at the feeling of those babies moving within her.

John chose just that moment to charge into the kitchen with a host of other guests, and for a brief, intense moment, I wanted to give him a big old goozle. Because now I had to share the madonna with everyone. I wanted to growl. This big dog can get possessive real quick. Quick enough to astound himself, as a matter of fact.

It seemed that Isabelle knew most of the gang already, including John, who was pretty chummy with her. That settled it - he and I were playing golf tomorrow, and I was going to find out more about her.

I was suddenly surrounded by friends, welcoming me back to the fold like the proverbial lost lamb. It felt pretty good to be among these folks again. Suddenly Paul announced he was going to start throwing steaks on the grill so, of course, all the guys had to go out and criticise his technique. Don't ask me why - women talk about shoes, guys tell the cook he's screwing up the steaks. It just is.

Joanie was getting me a beer, when Isabelle spoke.

"So, you're a wrestler too, Mark?"

Holy hell - she didn't know who I was. Well, damn. "Yes, ma'am. But I've been recovering from knee surgery for the past eight months." Of course I called her "ma'am" - my momma raised me to be polite.

She smiled up at me again. "I hope you're feeling better. And please, call me Isabelle." She made to get down off the stool she was sitting on, and it was second nature - I stepped over to help her. Like I said, momma raised me well. "Oh, thank you!" The warmth in her voice was real.

Joanie handed me my beer, and we all walked outside on to a big terrace, where Paul was working at the grill with lots of advice and suggestions, most of it unnecessary. Joanie grabbed a cushion from a nearby chair and gestured to Isabelle to sit down, and as she did, propped the pillow behind her back. Then she pulled up a footstool for her. It was pretty obvious that nothing was too good for their host mother. I wanted very much to sit with her and talk, but I noticed the women making a beeline for her and Joanie. So I took my beer over and helped the other guys tell Paul what he was doing wrong with the steaks.

Later in the evening, we'd all moved inside and were sitting in the living room. I still hadn't had much of a chance to talk to Isabelle - or Bella, as Joanie and Paul called her. Appropriate, since she looked so much like DaVinci's Italian lovely. But I had set up a golf game with John for the next day.

As people began to leave, the seating arrangements changed, and I ended up next to Isabelle on the sofa, talking to Paul and Joanie, who were spooned up together in Paul's big leather armchair. We'd out-talked everyone else, and it was just the four of us left, when I felt this gentle pressure on my arm. I looked down, and Isabelle had fallen asleep, resting her head against my chest.

And damned if I didn't get that possessive, protective feeling again. I did not want to move. I wanted to stay there forever with that pretty head nestled against me.

Joanie followed my glance, and laughed softly. "Poor Bella. It's being pregnant, she tells me. She feels perfectly fine and then - boom! She's fast asleep."

Paul smiled at his wife, and got up from his chair, walking over to the sofa. I looked up at him and he said softly, "When it happens, I carry her home and Joanie puts her to bed."

I wanted to bare my teeth at him and growl. In fact, I think the only reason I didn't was that I didn't want to wake her. So I played it cool, or so I hoped. "Let me." I gently moved my arm behind her shoulders, and then slid the other under her thighs and stood up carefully.

"You sure?" Paul asked.

"It would be my honour."

Chapter 20 - Joanie

Mark followed me out the door and over to Bella's house. I used our keys to let ourselves in, and entered the alarm code as it beeped at me.

"Up here," I whispered, and he nodded and followed me as I led the way up the stairs.

I went straight to the bed and turned down the covers, and motioned for him to put her down. He did, and I noticed just how gentle he was. I've know Mark a lot of years, so I know he's a sweet man, but this was more than that. It was like he didn't want to let her go. He just stood there, looking down at her, with this odd kind of expression on his face.

"Uh, Mark?" I felt like snapping my fingers to get his attention. He was just . . . staring. It was starting to creep me out. "Mark!" I whispered a bit louder.

He looked at me, and frowned a little.

"I need to undress her, so . . ." I made shooing motions with my hands, and he finally got the message. He turned and walked out of the room.

I eased Bella's sandals off, then pulled her gently up into a sitting position so I could slip her dress off over her head. While I had her up, holding her in my arms, I pulled out the pins from her hair, and let it fall down loose. I eased her back down onto the pillow and pulled the covers up over her. As I left the room, I turned out the light . . and ran right into Mark, standing just outside the door.

"Everything ok?" he asked quietly.

"She's fine, Mark. It's not like we haven't done this before. She's our friend, not just our host mother," I replied. I gave him a gentle push in the direction of the stairs. I swear, he resisted me at first, almost like he was going to stand guard outside her room all night. What on earth had gotten into him?

When we got back to the house, Mark decided it was time to leave. Paul invited him to come back tomorrow for lunch, but he said he was playing golf with John in the morning. We really hadn't had much time to catch up with during the party, so I suggested dinner instead. He agreed to that, and said goodnight.

Paul watched him walk to his car before closing the door. "Man, he's in great shape. He's going to be monster when he gets back in the ring."

I wasn't really listening though. I was thinking about the way Mark had looked at Bella after he put her on the bed. I know he's a softy, and Texans - well, they just fall all over themselves to help out a lady. And Bella was a pregnant lady, so of course he was going to be treating her like he had to wear kid gloves. But something else was there too, and I just couldn't put my finger on it. And then Paul put his fingers on me, and I stopped thinking about Mark at all.

Ain't love grand?

Chapter 21 - Mark

John and I played 18 holes on a very nice course in Greenwich. He was having a pretty good round, but mine was better. Lots better. I knew it, and he knew it. I could tell he knew it when I made a drive off the second tee that had me on the green on a par 4 hole.

"You sonofabitch. You've been practicing," he grumbled as we got in our golf cart.

"Nope. Just working out," I said, casually, knowing it would piss him off. Yeah, so sometimes I'm not a nice person.

The next few holes were better for me, worse for him. I had him right where I wanted him. So I stopped trying so hard. Once his score started to improve, and mine to worsen, he was getting pretty gleeful. And when John's gleeful, he's in the mood to talk. Don't you hate it when people are devious? Me too. I waited til he'd just sunk a putt that put him a pleasant six shots ahead of me and started asking questions.

"So, what's the deal with Paul and Joanie? Last I heard, they weren't going to be able to have kids." Oh yeah, I was cunning. I wasn't going to come right out and ask about Isabelle.

"Well, Joanie can't carry them, but Isabelle offered to be a surrogate for them," John said, climbing back into the golf cart.

I joined him. "That's - hell, that's just incredible. She must be a helluva nice woman."

"You better believe it, buddy. And I'm not just saying it cos I'm her business partner neither."

John was her business partner? Oh, this just got better and better. I willed myself not to clench my fists. That possessiveness was back, full force. "Oh yeah? What kind of business are you in?" I even made my voice come out nice and pleasant. What I wanted to do was grab him by the throat and choke the information out of him.

"She's in real estate. We've got a joint venture in online real estate. Well, I'm just a silent partner, really. I'm betting she'll buy me out in a year or so, the way she's going."

My hands relaxed. "How do you figure?"

"Well, she's going to be making money on it soon, and really I just invested to help her get it off the ground. To tell you the truth, I was kinda hoping that me and her might, you know, get involved. But she was all business. Was real nice about it. It was Joanie that told me that Isabelle feels like she has bad luck with men and to, you know, back off."

Joanie told him to back off? Joanie? Joanie was infamous as a matchmaker - she couldn't help herself. She was always trying to get people together. Either Isabelle really was bad news, or Joanie didn't think John was good enough for her. Hmmm. I pondered that while John teed off on the next hole. I couldn't really believe someone who looked like DaVinci's Madonna could be a bitch for men. Therefore, it was more likely that Joanie thought womanising John Layfield wasn't a great bet for her friend. Well, I had one up on ol' John. I wasn't a womaniser, and Joanie liked me plenty.

I was smiling as I stepped up to the tee. I also stopped being nice to John. In the end, I beat him by six strokes, and he had to buy me lunch. I figured that was about par for the course.

Chapter 22 - Isabelle

I woke up in my bed without remembering how I got there. But, it had happened before. I probably fell asleep on Paul and Joanie's couch again. Damn, I really was going to have to stop staying out so late. What on earth had possessed me last night?

As I got into the shower, I remembered. Mark Calaway. That's why I had stayed. I hadn't met him before last night, but I had liked him right away. He loved Joanie and Paul, and that was good enough for me. And he was a gentleman, too. Called me "ma'am" - I giggled at the memory. He had the nicest green eyes.

The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was sitting beside him on the sofa, listening to him and Paul talk about wrestling. I got the feeling Mark had been in the business longer than Paul, but Paul was always wanting to learn more about it. I wasn't really listening to the words - I just liked hearing the low rumble of his voice.

And then I must have fallen asleep - I'll bet that broke the party up fast, as Joanie and Paul saw me home. I'd already bought Paul a "gift" for after the babies were born. It was a back truss. Just to say thanks for all the nights he'd carried me home. I knew it would make him laugh.

I spent the morning in my office, dealing with work. I grabbed some lunch, and then decided that I needed a little exercise. I did some yoga stretches, and then promptly fell asleep on the daybed. Damn. It was around five-thirty when I woke up. Ooops, guess I had stayed up a little too late last night. I went to check the mail, and found a note from Joanie inviting me over for dinner at seven.

I yawned, and decided that a swim would be a good idea. A real swim, not just lazing in the water. I changed into my suit and put my secret weapon in the sound system. Yep, some good old fashioned Shania at high volume would get me moving.

An hour later, I was wide awake and feeling great. I had worked out all the kinks from my body, and felt refreshed. I headed upstairs to shower and change.

It was a cooler night tonight, so after drying my hair, I left it loose. Thre were a lot of downsides to pregnancy, but I could really get to like this beautiful hair thing I had going. I chose a pair of loose linen pants and a swing top, and headed out to dinner.

Chapter 23 - Mark

I got to Paul and Joanie's around six. Paul greeted me at the door wearing a towel. He apologised for the fact that he and Joanie were running a little late, handed me a beer and pointed me towards the terrace. I guess I knew what made them late. Couldn't say I blamed him.

I remembered what it had been like when Sara and I were first married. I don't know how many times we were late for things because I would look over at her getting dressed and . . . It was nice, it was kind of like falling in love all over again when it happened. Only, it stopped happening, because she started pushing me away when I pounced on her.

It didn't really come as much of a surprise when I found out she'd been cheating on me. My pride was wounded, but my heart was broken. We got divorced - I couldn't stay married to her after that. I hadn't been involved with anyone since then. Worst thing was, I still had her damn name tattooed across my throat. But I was getting that taken care of. I'd had a lot of sessions of laser removal already, and it was faded. A few more, and by the time the Phenom was reborn in the WWE, it would be gone completely.

I headed out onto the terrace, and as I sat down and made myself comfortable, I heard music. Shania Twain. Now, Texas bad ass or not, I happen to dig Shania. I liked her when she was country, but the pop-rock stuff she was doing now was damn fine too. I found myself tapping time to the beat.

By the time Paul and Joanie made their appearances, both looking like the cat that got the canary, the music had stopped.

"What're you smiling at, big man?" asked Paul, heading over to the grill. Oh yeah, barbeque again. I was a happy man.

"One of your neighbours likes good music. I was just enjoying some fine Shania," I grinned at him.

Joanie sat down next to me. "That would be Bella," she smiled. "She was probably swimming laps."

Whew, did that give me a lovely mental picture - the little madonna in a teeny bikini, hair all wet and flowing out behind her in the water. I know, not entirely realistic, but my hormones seemed to be working overtime on this lady. "Laps huh? Well, I guess Shania would get you moving all right." I took a swallow of beer and tried to chase away that picture - but I didn't try all that hard. It was a good picture.

"That's what Bella says. We're used to it, even though Paul can't stand Shania."

"Damn bubblegum pop," Paul grumbled. Bullshit. I'd seen him grooving along to Destiny's Child backstage once or twice. But I decided not to call him on it. Never dis a man who's cooking your steaks.

Once Paul had the grill started, he joined Joanie and I and we finally got a chance to talk. I could open up with these two more than probably anyone else on the roster except Glenn Jacobs. We talked about rehabbing injuries - Paul's quad tear was right up there with my knees in terms of major setbacks. I was pleased when Paul commented on the shape I was in. The guy was in perfect physical form himself. I couldn't wait to get in a few matches with him. I figured we would tear the place down.

We were so engrossed with wrestling that I never even noticed we had company, until a female voice said, "Talking about opera again, I see."

I looked up, and I thought my heart would stop. Isabelle was standing there, smiling down at us. And oh god, she was so beautiful. Her hair, which had been up last night, was now down around her shoulders, so she looked less like DaVinci's madonna. Suddenly, she was leaving that painting in the dirt - her hair was so lovely. I caught myself gaping, and tried a smile on for size, hoping it didn't make me look like an asshole.

Paul laughed. "Bella's got this theory that wrestling is like opera."

What the hell? I thought about that for a minute, and then said, "Hell, she's right. Overblown storylines, costumes. Only difference is, we don't sing. Which is probably a good thing." I gave Paul a look. The man was the worst singer in recorded history. I personally wasn't much better, but at least I never sang in front of anyone. He gave me a wounded look, spoiled by a smirk, while Joanie and Isabelle laughed.

"See? I'm not the only person who can see the similarity," Isabelle crowed, and to my delight she sat down on my other side. I had the two pretty ladies - take that, you big handsome bastard, I thought, giving Paul my own version of his smirk.

Isabelle patted my thigh and said, "Now, obviously Mark is a man of culture who can recognise these things."

I was praying that nobody asked me to stand up for a bit, because there was one part of me that got a little interested with that whole thigh-patting thing. I took a sip of beer while silently directing my dick to sit down and shut up. Men do talk to their penises. Why not? The damn things seem to have a mind of their own, after all. It helped that Paul exploded into laughter at Isabelle's remark about me being a "man of culture".

I didn't mind. I know I look like a tough-guy biker, but then Paul looks like a musclebound gymhound. And Joanie looks like an Amazon warrior. But we also know that we aren't always what we seem. John looks and acts like a redneck, but I've seldom met anyone with a sharper financial brain. Except probably Vince McMahon, and Vince usually looks like a businessman. Usually. Sometimes he looks like a street brawler. Sometimes he even acts like one.

But I did wonder what Isabelle was really like. I mean, I knew she looked like a little madonna, but she was obviously a shrewd business woman. John may think with his dick on occasion - most men will - but he wouldn't have invested money in anything that wasn't going to get off the ground. He's too smart for that. So, business woman, lap swimmer and Shania Twain fan, who likened wrestling to opera. I really didn't know much about her at all. But I was going to find out more - you could bet the farm on it.

Chapter 25 - Isabelle

It was a nice surprise to find that Mark Calaway was also at dinner with Paul and Joanie. He reinforced my impression of him from the night before as a very nice man. He was Texan, I could tell that from his accent. And I knew he was a wrestler. But some of the other things I found about him were a surprise.

He played golf - he'd beaten John this morning at the local club. I laughed about that, because I knew how competitive John was about golf. He has a degree in sports management - from a very long time ago, he laughed. Hell, my business degree seems like a lifetime ago too. I found out he had eclectic tastes in music, much like my own. That he loved dogs. That he liked art galleries and the History Channel.

There were things that weren't a surprise - like the motorbikes. And the steak - he and Paul put away quite a lot of good chargrilled beef between them. But he seemed surprised to find we shared a favourite movie - Pulp Fiction - and that I was just as hooked on The Sopranos as he was. He looked at me kind of oddly at that. I gave him my "don't screw with me" look. I can dig Quentin Tarantino, and who wouldn't love Tony Soprano, poor mixed up bastard that he is. He smiled, so I guess he got the message.

He had a couple of beers, but then switched to club soda. He caught my raised eyebrow. "What?"

"I didn't say anything," I protested.

"I saw that look."

"What look?"

"That look that says, what kind of man drinks club soda? That look."

"I'm sorry," I tried not to hiss at him. "You are mistaken. That was my, 'goodness, there's a man who is smart enough to stop drinking when he's reached his limit' look."

"Oh? Kind of like 'look, there's a dancing bear'? What a novelty, huh?" He sounded a little pissed.

"Christ! Who snapped your panties? I was admiring you, you asshole! I like a man who doesn't have to drink til he falls down - it shows character and sense. Remind me not to compliment you again!" Now I was pissed.

Stupid pregnancy hormones. Actually, I had had bitchy hissy fits before the pregnancy, but pregnancy hormones were a good excuse for now, and I planned to get all the mileage out of it that I could. Paul and Joanie were used to my sudden attacks of bitchiness, as were my employees. Mark had just been blindsided by this one. I felt kind of sorry for him, until I noticed the broad grin on his face and he exploded into laughter.

"Damn! You're just full of piss and vinegar, aren't you? I love that!"

There was something infectious about his grin and his laughter. I found myself joining in. Then I noticed Paul and Joanie looking at us.

"What?" I had to ask. They had identically weirded out expressions.

"That was so creepy," Joanie said. "The two of you were arguing like married people."

That set Mark and I off again.

The evening seemed to get even better after that. I guess my hissy fit had broken the ice with Mark a bit, and suddenly we were talking nineteen to the dozen. But then I noticed myself yawning.

"Okay, folks," I said, around another yawn. "It's time for me to head on home."

They protested, and I was tempted to stay. We were having such a good time, just talking and laughing. But I really needed to get to bed. "No, I've got to go. I'm getting too big for you to carry me home, Paul. Not two nights in a row anyway."

Paul laughed. "Not me, Bella. The big man here did the honours last night."

That took me by surprise. And it made me feel funny, in a good way. Mark had carried me in his arms to my bed? I looked at him, and he nodded. Well, hell. I said the only thing I could think of. "Thank you." But my voice sounded small in my ears.

"You're welcome," was his quiet response.

Oh shit. Resisting the urge to babble like a lunatic, which for some reason I knew I was about to do, if only to cover up my reaction, I simply stood up, wished everyone a good night, and got the hell out of Dodge.

My heart was hammering when I got to my door, and I didn't even know why. I sat down in my breakfast nook until I calmed down. It took a while. I couldn't work out what had just happened. Finally, I decided it was just pregnancy hormones again. According to the books I'd been reading, the second trimester often marked what they coyly referred to as "an increase in libido". Had to be it - why else would I be so . . . tense over the idea of that gorgeous, big man carrying me up the stairs and laying me down on my bed?

I headed upstairs and stood under a nice cold shower until I was thinking straight again.

Chapter 26 - Mark

Paul, Joanie and I talked for a few hours more after Isabelle had gone home. We had a lot of catching up to do. They told me the whole story about the baby problems, and my heart went out to Joanie again. I didn't even think, I just opened my arms up to her and she came back over and sat next to me. I hugged her as they talked and she cried about all that had happened.

It had to be hard for her, watching Isabelle carrying her babies. It was an experience that she couldn't share in, and my heart really ached for her. But it seemed like Isabelle was doing all she could to keep Joanie involved, and I liked her for it. No matter what my hormones were thinking about Isabelle - and they were thinking plenty - if she hurt Joanie and Paul, I wouldn't stand for it.

This was my last night in Connecticut, as I was flying home to Texas after my meetings tomorrow morning. I decided to put my heart on my sleeve a little.

"You know, I really enjoyed meeting Isabelle. She's a pistol," I started, hoping I wasn't being too transparent.

"I think she likes you too, Mark," Joanie said with a laugh. "She only really tears into people she's fond of."

It was the perfect opening, and I silently blessed Joanie for giving it to me. "I think I'd like to keep her on my good side then - I'd hate to see what she does to you if she doesn't like you. It must be brutal." I pulled out my wallet and took out one of my business manager's cards and asked to borrow a pen. Joanie handed me one, and I quickly wrote my email address on the back of the card and gave it to her. "That's for you guys, so we can stay in touch til I'm back on the road. You can give it to Isabelle too, if she'd like to stay in contact." I hoped I sounded casual.

Joanie just nodded. Well, I guess I'd have to wait and see if Isabelle got in touch. I hugged Paul and Joanie, and said my goodbyes. It had been good to spend time with them. I just hoped I'd see them - and Isabelle - again soon.

Meantime, I had to get back into ring condition. My return was scheduled for Summerslam in New York, at the Garden. I was pretty stoked. I always liked Summerslam, and they were developing a damn good angle for me. But I needed to be ready to work it. I didn't really feel like knocking off the ring rust at OVW. Call me vain, but I really did not want all those fresh kids on the way up watching me get knocked on my ass until I got back into the swing of things. So I called Shawn Michaels, who agreed to give me some time in his wrestling school after hours. There were a couple of us rehabbing, so I actually had some reasonable opposition, and every reason to think that I was going to be in fine form for Summerslam.

I came home from one of those evening sessions feeling very pumped up. I took a shower, and then decided to check my email. Okay, that sounds real casual, but the truth is I was checking it a dozen times a day to see if I had heard from Isabelle. I thought I had been really cool and laidback by giving her my email address, but waiting to see if she was going to contact me was driving me a little crazy. I should have asked for hers.

I did some surfing and found her online realty business, and was tempted to send her an email from there. But then I realised that it would be seen by her staff, and then I would look like a complete idiot. So I waited. And waited. I was so sure that once again I was not going to see anything that I almost missed it. By God, she'd emailed me! I opened the message, hoping it wouldn't be a polite kiss-off.

It was short and to the point:

Mark

Email is for work. Phone calls are for friends. Just don't call too early or too late - us incubators need our sleep.

Love Isabelle

Her phone number was in the signature line. I felt like I had won the lottery. I checked the time and realised it was too late to call her tonight - it was an hour later in Connecticut. But I'd call her tomorrow, for sure.

Chapter 27 - Isabelle

I'd been happy when Joanie gave me Mark's email address. But if I sat down to email him once, I did it a dozen times. I just didn't know what I wanted to say. "Hi. Did you know I've been lusting after you since I found out you carried me to bed that night? I think it's only pregnancy hormones though. Call me after I've had the babies and let's find out for sure." I had an idea that might send the wrong message.

I felt really stupid. I mean, the night we had dinner at Paul and Joanie's there were a hundred things we talked about. I did like him as a person. But that whole "increase in libido" thing was kicking my ass. You want to know the real reason pregnant women have that "glow" everyone raves about? It's because they are hot as hell horny all the damn time! I was having a lot of trouble concentrating, and not just because of Mark. Hell, I nearly jumped the UPS guy who delivered a parcel for me, and forget about Paul - I could barely stand to look at him. Even John wouldn't have been safe around me - that's how bad I was.

Finally I just couldn't stand it. I wimped out. I emailed him my phone number, with some corny shit about email being for work and phone calls being for friends. Passive aggressive to the max. I almost puked when I sent it. I was such a chickenshit. I decided he could call me and then we'd talk about what he wanted to talk about. Because I figured his brain had to be working a lot better than mine - or at least it might not be so damn clouded by hormones.

He called the next day. And - surprise! It was a nice normal conversation. We talked about the latest episodes of The Sopranos. We talked about him "knocking off the ring rust" - whatever the hell that meant. Actually, he took pity on me, seeing as I knew nothing about wrestling, and explained that it wasn't enough to be fit, you had to get back into practice. I could relate to that. I figured once I had the babies, I was going to be starting over from scratch on my Tae Bo, because I hadn't done it in so long.

He explained the libretto for his return to me in general terms - and yes, he even used the word "libretto". That got us into a discussion of opera. He liked things like Carmen. I was more into Mozart's operas, because I felt they were more fun.

Before we knew it, we'd been talking for an hour. And my hormones hadn't tripped me up once. Must be a pregnancy thing.

Mark asked me then if I'd ever been to a live wrestling event. I had to admit I hadn't. I didn't even watch it on TV. He asked me if I thought I'd be up to coming to New York to see the event where he made his return to the "squared circle". I guessed he meant the night he went back before the cameras. I thought for a second. A weekend in New York. A nice hotel, perhaps a massage, a little pampering. And a live show. It sounded like it might be fun. I said yes.

He was like a kid on Christmas morning! He told me he'd take care of everything, and I put my foot down. We had a little spat, and then compromised. He would let me know where he was staying, so I could book in the same hotel if I wished. He did explain that, because he was pretty recognisable, he would prefer to be in the same hotel, because then we could visit without him having to run the gauntlet of fans. And he would arrange my ticket to the show, as a VIP.

That's where we left things. We said goodbye and hung up, Mark promising to call me again in a few days. I was genuine when I told him I looked forward to it. And I went back to work with renewed energy - I had just had the best of all pick-me-ups, a great conversation with a friend.

I know I mentioned that I have this thing for property. Well, I also have a thing for technology. I like toys, and running a business out of my home - or at least having an office in my home from which I worked, even if the business had premises elsewhere - meant that I could get all sorts of cool stuff and claim them as business expenses and therefore tax deductions. You better believe I stocked up on the very latest gizmos.

My newest favourite was a cool wireless headset phone. I felt like a Hollywood mogul when I wore it. I could wander the house and garden and get my calls by just pressing a button on my earpiece. I'd been working this particular day, talking to quite a few clients and back and forth with the office, and suddenly my ass was dragging. It was happening more often now. I was getting towards the point where even the little I was doing was going to be too much. The babies weren't going to be as big as the doctor first thought, but carrying two of them was starting to make me more and more tired.

I called the office and told them that I wouldn't be working that afternoon. It was good practice for us all, me taking time off. It allowed us to see just how they would cope when I stopped working full time, and to plan to overcome any problems. I grabbed a quick lunch, and then I decided to get in the spa. It was too hot outside to consider getting in the pool. I stripped off and climbed very carefully into the spa. I hadn't been able to see my feet for quite a while now, so navigating into the spa was getting tricky. I had a carpenter coming next week to make me something that would allow me to sit and just sort of swivel so I could lower myself in.

Once I was in the spa, the water took the weight of the babies off my back, and I sighed in relief. I turned on the jets, and adjusted the ones on my spine for maximum output. It was like an underwater massage, and helped me relax. I lay back, letting the water cool and support me, and was startled when my Hollywood mogul phone beeped in my ear. I reached up and pressed the button without thinking.

"Isabelle McLaughlin." All those years of working in an office - I couldn't even answer the phone like a normal person now. Maybe the gadgets weren't the best thing.

"Isabelle?" Mark sounded worried. "Are you ok?"

I was a bit puzzled, then realised he could probably hear the spa jets. I hit the button to turn them off. "I'm fine - is that better?"

"Yes. What was that noise?"

"Sorry, it was the spa. But I've turned the jets off now."

"You're in the spa?"

Chapter 28 - Mark

I heard her laugh softly. "Yep. Sounds decadent, doesn't it, being in the spa in the middle of the afternoon. But it's too hot to go out and get in the pool, and being in the water helps take the weight of the babies off my back."

The enticing thought of Isabelle in the spa was wiped away instantly. That fierce protective urge was back, big time. I remembered how it had felt when she fell asleep next to me, how it had felt to hold her in my arms and carry her to her bed. I saw once again how peaceful she looked, asleep, and how serene she was that first time I had seen her. The little madonna. I almost thought of her as my little madonna. Yep, the big dog was feeling protective again.

I swear, it just slipped out. "Poor baby." Oh shit! I heard the way that had sounded. Soft and intimate. I waited for the backlash. But apparently Isabelle wasn't so full of piss and vinegar when she was tired.

"I'm okay, Mark, really. It's just hard work being pregnant - a lot harder than I think I ever imagined."

I was suddenly rethinking my brilliant plan to invite Isabelle to New York for Summerslam. She was a pregnant woman, how on earth could she sit on those godawful chairs at ringside in comfort for over three hours?

"Isabelle, I was planning to get you ringside seats at the show, but I'm thinking now it's probably not going to be all that comfortable for you. Would you be disappointed to sit in one of the corporate suites? They're a lot further away, but at least you'd be in comfortable chairs and you could put your feet up."

"Mark, since I've never been to a wrestling show, I don't really think it matters where I sit. But, will I be able to see you?" That sounded a bit plaintive. She wanted to see me. Possessive now warred with protective.

"The corporate suites actually have big screen TVs. In fact, it's probably a better show from there. You'll hear the commentary and see closeup camera shots, but you'll also be able to look out the window and see the show live - you know, get the atmosphere."

"Sounds good. You can arrange that?"

"You just leave it to me," I told her. Then I thought of a trunp card I could play. "In fact, if we get you in a corporate suite, Joanie could sit with you. There's no way she could be with you in the VIP section - she'd cause a riot."

"She would?"

I kept forgetting she didn't know much about professional wrestling. "Honey, Chyna is the most recognisable woman on the planet in our business."

"Chyna? Oh, you mean Joanie! I hadn't thought about that. The corporate suite it is then," she spoke with finality.

"And since you probably don't have a pen and paper within reach, I'll send you an email with the details of the hotel where we're staying. I spoke to Paul the other day and he and Joanie will be staying there too." Yes, it's true - I had no shame about playing that trump card again. And I didn't tell her that I was typing an email to the hotel as we spoke, telling them that when she booked, she was to be given a room with a whirlpool bath, and they could charge the cost over and above a normal room to my account. If my baby needed a spa to ease her back, she was going to have one. There it was again, my baby. Shit.

"Does the hotel have a spa?" Isabelle asked lazily, and for a moment I almost panicked, wondering if I had said that aloud. I did say almost.

"Sure, as well as an indoor pool and a day spa centre."

"Then I better make sure I bring my swimsuit. I'm sure they won't let me in the spa without it."

I laughed. "If you spend all that time in the pool or the spa, I'm sure you've got more than one."

"Oh sure, but I don't bother with a suit in the spa here - it's indoors." Possessive and protective were left standing as lust surged to the lead. I was talking to Isabelle and she was naked. Oh shit.

We made a little more small talk, while I struggled with those lustful thoughts. This was a very pregnant woman. My hormones didn't give a damn. Finally, I told her I had to go, and I'd leave her to have her spa in peace. She laughed and said she'd see me in two weeks.

I couldn't wait. Some parts of me even more than others. Yeah, I was thinking with my dick.

Chapter 29 - Joanie

Bella and I planned our trip to New York. We had booked into the same hotel, and were planning on taking a limousine to the city. It was Bella's idea.

"Joanie, I am rapidly approaching the point where I will not be up to doing much beyond my house. This is my last blowout before I enter the sheltered cloisters of my confinement," she said, just a bit waspishly. "I mean to enjoy it!"

So we went the whole hog. A limousine ride to the city, complete with club soda in champagne flutes and lots of girly talk. She was excited about seeing the show live. I couldn't blame her. It's a pretty awesome thing, especially at the Garden. Thousands of fans, the lights, the noise - it always makes us want to give it our all. I still thought of myself as a wrestler, even though I had "retired". Someday, I wanted to go back - there was no bigger thrill for me than a great match. Well, maybe there is, but I'm certainly not interested in letting thousands of people watch that!

When we arrived at the hotel, we got the five star treatment. Pulling up in a limousine guarantees it. We didn't have to lift a finger. I liked. We were shown up to our rooms - I'd insisted on being on the same floor as Bella, just in case she needed us. Call me overprotective, but she was carrying our babies. We'd even had a medi-alert system put into her house, and she carried a portable one too. A little over the top? Who cares.

I unpacked for Paul and I, then went to see Bella in her room. She was like a kid in a candy store. The room she had was even better than ours. She was currently drooling over the whirlpool bath. We didn't have a whirlpool bath.

"I won't even have to use the hotel spa! Ooh, this is so nice!" she enthused.

I smelled a rat. A big rat, with long red hair and green eyes. We'd been in touch with Mark leading up to the PPV, and he'd been a little too interested in Bella's visit to New York. He'd been eager to make sure all of us were in the same hotel, had the corporate suite arranged. He kept asking how Bella was, whether she'd be up to the show. He'd even called the hotel's day spa to make sure that they were set up to give massages to pregnant women.

Suddenly it all fell into place. I finally knew what that look was - the one I'd seen on his face the night he'd carried Bella home and put her to bed. Somehow, Mark had fallen in love with her. I groaned to myself. Not that I didn't think Bella was lovable - Paul and I thought she hung the moon, but Bella had told me she just wasn't good with men. After Mark's divorce, I didn't want to see him get hurt again. I loved him too much for that.

And now that I thought about it, Bella seemed awfully taken with Mark too. We'd offered to take her to shows in the past and she'd always said no. Now, because Mark had asked, here we were.

What on earth was I going to do? I listened to Bella babble on as she unpacked, and it seemed to be that it was "Mark this" and "Mark that". And it hit me like a bolt from the blue - I couldn't do anything. I was just going to have to stand here and watch this trainwreck happen, and hope that I could help both of my friends pick up the pieces afterwards, without taking sides.

I realised now why Paul was always so dead against me matchmaking - just this very scenario. The funny thing was, this wasn't even my fault. I hadn't been matchmaking - I'd never even thought of trying to set Mark and Bella up. But it seemed like it had happened anyway.

The plan for the weekend was pretty simple. We'd arrived on Saturday around mid-afternoon. We would get settled in, and then have dinner at the hotel. Sunday, Paul and Mark were going to be involved with Fan Axxess and the pre-show stuff. I was scheduled to appear at Axxess too. Bella was going to be pampered at the day spa, and then we'd head over to the Garden to our nifty corporate suite and watch the show. Monday night's Raw was also at the Garden, so Monday we'd hang out and then go back to the Garden if Bella felt up to it. Otherwise, we'd watch the show from the hotel. We were headed home on Tuesday.

Bella was buzzed. She'd lived in New York for years, and loved the place. I could tell she was itching to hit the mean streets, and I loved Fifth Avenue myself, but the heat had hit us like a wall when we got out of the limo at the hotel. So neither of us were going anywhere. It didn't really matter. She was excited about the show, and about just kicking back for a weekend of luxury.

We spent the afternoon making ourselves gorgeous for dinner. I mean, we both knew that if you were having dinner in a swanky New York restaurant, you had to look damn fine. Bella met us at the elevator, and I knew she'd been holding out on me. The deal was that I was going to be buying her maternity clothes, so she wasn't forking out money for clothes she wouldn't wear again. But this outfit wasn't one we'd bought on one of our shopping trips. A black pleated chiffon skirt and sleeveless top, with a plunging neckline that showed off her impressive "pregnant lady" cleavage. She wore black strappy sandals, and her hair was pulled up into a French twist. And she looked like a million bucks. Mark was going to have a heart attack. So was Paul, who just out and out stared at her until I elbowed him in the ribs.

He hoisted his jaw off the floor and said, "Nice dress Bella." She and I both laughed - he didn't fool either of us. I wondered what Mark's reaction would be.

Chapter 30 - Mark

I'd arranged to meet Paul, Joanie and Isabelle in the restaurant. I was trying hard to play it cool, but I suspected I was failing pretty spectacularly. I didn't want to meet Bella at her room, that would make it seem like a date. Which it was, only I didn't want her to think that. This was supposed to be four friends having dinner together. So why had I had a new suit tailored for the event? A suit - me? Sure, it was Armani, but me, in a suit?

I gave up trying to work out what the hell I was doing and went with the flow. It was easier that way. I'd booked us a table for dinner, a little out of the way so we hopefully wouldn't get bothered as much by autograph seekers. I sat at the bar and ordered a Jack Daniels. I did however resist the urge to make it a triple. But when I saw Isabelle enter the restaurant, I felt like I'd had the triple - and a few more besides.

God, she was even more beautiful that I remembered - and I remembered pretty damn good. She looked so good I'll bet there were women in that room who decided to get pregnant themselves, just to try to compete. Not that they could - not with my little madonna. Not with mmy sexy little madonna. Oh shit, I had it so bad for this woman. I was going to make an absolute ass of myself this evening, I just knew it. But what's that saying? I would rather be a broken jade than a whole brick.* If I got to spend the evening with Isabelle, then I didn't care.

I was in the mushiest, gushiest mood - I felt the urge to write sonnets, sing love songs and do any number of equally soppy things. Oh this was going to be just a peach of an evening. Isabelle walked over with Paul and Joanie. Joanie looked pretty damn fine herself this evening, and I made sure to tell her so. As for Isabelle, I was about to say something nice about how she looked - at least, that's what I hoped I was about to say, so long as my brain cooperated with my mouth, when I spotted it. Another one of those looks.

"What's the look for this time?"

"What look?"

"That look, the one you're giving me." I was getting a little sick of those looks. I know, this was only the second one, but still.

"Oh, this look? This is my 'Good lord, it's a dancing bear' look. I was admiring how you look in a suit! Jeez Mark, get complimented much? Cos you really suck at accepting them," came the sharp retort.

And then I could relax - she was still full of piss and vinegar, and as a result I was less likely to make a fool of myself by getting all soft. I still was the goddamned American Bad Ass, thank you very much!

"Well, thank you kindly, ma'am. And you look pretty damn fine yourself. Got some bodacious cleavage there, if I do say." Momma may have raised me to be polite, but I learned to have 'tude all on my own. As she laughed, I offered her my arm. "Yep, from up here, the view is mighty fine." Hey, they were on display, and last time I checked, I was a man.

Honest to God, I thought she was going to pee herself, she was laughing so hard. So much for not attracting attention. But this was New York, where something insane happens roughly every three seconds, so after a bit, no-one bothered to watch anymore. We headed for our table, and I took the opportunity to display my manners a little more by beating the waiter to it when it came to holding Isabelle's chair. Had nothing to do with the fact that when she was sitting and I was standing, I got an even better view of that spectacular cleavage. Nothing at all.

* Chinese proverb - In face of evil, one would rather be a jade broken than a brick intact - means one would rather die than surrender

Chapter 31 - Joanie

I watched Mark and Bella all evening, and wondered if I had been mistaken about them being in love. They talked, they laughed - we all did. He complimented her, but he complimented me. He did spend a lot of time staring at her breasts, but then, so did Paul. I told him he would pay for it later, and he gave me an evil grin.

We enjoyed a fine dinner and a bottle of wine. Bella declined, saying that the twins didn't much care for the taste, and she'd prefer it if they didn't get drunk and rowdy and wrestle all night. That had us all laughing. She excused herself at one point, and when she came back to the table, every male eye in the restaurant was on her. But as both Paul and Mark looked scary faced at that, I couldn't point to that being a sign of Mark's undying love for her.

After dinner, we moved to the bar, where there was a small dance floor. The music was preprogrammed for easy listening, I guess you'd call it, and a few couples were dancing every now and then. We sat and talked, about nothing and everything, and relaxed together. Then a song I hadn't heard came on, and both Mark and Bella looked up.

"Oh, I love this song!" said Bella softly.

"Would you care to dance, then?" Mark asked her, holding out his hand.

I couldn't be sure, but I think she blushed. But she said yes, and he handed her out of her chair. Now, Paul and I just looked at one another. I don't think I'd ever seen Mark dance - with anyone. But there he was, holding Bella in his arms in a perfectly gentlemanly manner, slow dancing to this song. They seemed to be speaking, and smiling at one another. The song ended, and they came back to sit down. Mark seated Bella again, and then took his own seat.

"I didn't recognise that song Bella, what was it?"

"It's Shania Twain. It's called "You've got a way". It's one of my favourites," she smiled.

"And one of mine," Mark said.

I think Paul was about to make some smart crack about the Undertaker being a Shania Twain fan, which might well have gotten him a concussion for his pains, when Bella announced that she needed to go to bed. Mark offered to walk her to her room. She accepted, and was up and bidding us goodnight before I had a chance to say that we'd go up with her. I just had to sit there and watch while she crossed the bar with Mark. I watched as he gently took her hand and tucked it through his arm.

They disappeared from view, and I turned to see Paul looking at me.

"What was that all about?"

"What was what all about?"

"Joanie, you were watching them like a hawk. What's going on between them?"

"Damned if I know!"

He wisely left it at that.

Chapter 32 - Isabelle

I was rather amazed when Mark asked me to dance. But who could resist Shania - certainly I couldn't, not when she was doing a love song like that. I said as much to him on the dance floor, and he admitted it was a favourite of his as well.

"I've really enjoyed this evening, Isabelle," he said as we danced.

"So have I."

"I hope we'll get to spend some time together this weekend. Would you like to come backstage on Monday afternoon and see behind the scenes?" he asked.

"That sounds like it could be interesting. But I'm more looking forward to the show tomorrow night. Joanie tells me it's a very exciting thing, being at a big live show."

"I hope you do enjoy it. It's quite a spectacle," he said.

Shania was crawling inside my head, saying things I was thinking. Mark did have a way with him, and it was nice how he was holding me right now. I refused to think about the part where she was talking about how they made love. Well, I tried not to think about it. But, he looked so good tonight - that beautiful suit, with a collarless white dress shirt. And he smelled so good - I wanted to bury my face in his chest and just breathe him in forever. Good old pregnancy hormones.

I forced myself to look up and smile at him, and then noticed something. His dress shirt was open at the neck, and the tattoo that had been there when we first met had gone. "You had your tattoo removed. The one on your throat." I resisted the urge to put my fingers on that spot. If I touched his bare skin, I wasn't sure what might happen.

"Oh. Yes, I did," he said quietly. "That relationship was over, and I didn't need the reminder."

"I'm sorry, Mark, I didn't mean to bring up a painful subject."

"It's okay, Isabelle. I'm a little surprised you noticed though."

Like I wouldn't notice a change in him? Any change. He took a half inch off that hair and I was going to notice. Wild horses wouldn't have made me admit it to him though.

"Well, I'd never seen anyone with so many tattoos, so I guess I was a little more aware of them."

"Hmmm," was his only response as we moved together. He was light on his feet for such a big man. I was sorry when the song ended and we sat down.

My head was spinning a little, from excitement and from good old hormones. It was time for me to go to bed, before I made a fool of myself. So I stood and said goodnight, and was surprised when Mark offered to walk me to my room. I was going to say no, but was shocked when I heard myself say yes. What the hell?

As we walked through the bar, he took my hand and drew it through his arm. It was such a gentlemanly gesture, so old world. I felt tears prick my eyes. I liked walking with him. I'm not a tiny little thing, but next to him, I felt like it, even with my baby belly. We waited at the elevator.

He was stroking my hand very gently. I don't even know if he knew he was doing it. What I did know was that you have millions of nerve endings there, all connected to your nipples. Every last one of them. I wanted him to stop - and if he did, I would have begged him not to. We took the elevator to my floor.

I expected him to walk me all the way to the door. A gentleman would do that for a lady. Only I wasn't feeling ladylike. I wanted to jump his bones. I wanted to ride him hard and put him away wet. I needed a cold shower.

We stood there, looking at one another. His face was serious, and beautiful. And I wanted to laugh and cry and kiss him - all at once. Oh I was in way over my head here. I was so confused, and I couldn't tell if they were my feelings or my hormones or both or neither. But I did know I liked him looking at me. Just as he was doing.

It seemed like we'd been standing there forever. And then he very slowly bent down and kissed me. Once. So softly. Ohhhhh.

Chapter 33 - Mark

It was nice, walking Isabelle to her room. We didn't speak. At the door, all I could do was look at her. She looked so serious. She was the Madonna again. And my heart ached at how lovely she was, how it had felt to dance with her, to have her hand on my arm as we walked. I wanted - hell, I didn't know what I wanted. I stopped thinking.

And found myself bending down to kiss her.

I closed my eyes. Her lips were soft. As I straightened up, I almost didn't want to look at her, afraid I had done something she didn't want, or like, or was going to be pissed about. But God hates a coward. I looked back down into her serious hazel eyes.

We locked eyes for a long moment. And then, wonder of wonders, her hands came up to my face, and she pulled me down to her.

"Kiss me again? Please?"

I just knew the smile on my face was a goofy one, American bad ass or not, but she smiled back. So I kissed her again. Not quite so soft this time.

"Mmmmm," she murmured, still holding my face down to hers. "More please."

"Yes ma'am." Who was I to argue with a lady?

I don't know how long we stood there, kissing. At one point she let go of my face, but I didn't need to be held down any more. Kissing Isabelle was a delight. The door to her room opened, and I realised she'd gotten out her key. Uh-oh. I stood up, slowly. I looked down at her kiss-swollen lips and wanted her as much as I ever wanted a woman - maybe more.

"Mark?" her voice was soft. "Would you like to come in for a while?"

Did I? I wanted nothing more than to go into that room, lock the door and never come out again - so long as she was with me. "I'm not sure if I should."

"Why?"

Oh that was a question I so did not want to answer. Because I didn't know why. Maybe because she was beautiful, and intoxicating, and pregnant with Paul and Joanie's babies?

"Please, Mark, come in for a little while?"

My feet took me through the door even as my brain tried to find a way to say goodnight and leave politely. She smiled and closed the door.

"I need to take my shoes off and sit down. Please, join me?" She sat on the sofa, and bent over a little awkwardly to unfasten her shoes. I found myself kneeling in front of her, pushing her hands away gently and taking her sandals off myself. Such pretty feet. I rubbed them gently, and then sat up on the sofa beside her, pulling her gently sideways so her feet rested in my lap.

"Ooohh, wonderful," she sighed. Her eyes slipped closed for a moment in satisfaction. Then she opened them and looked at me. "Mark, will you please kiss me again?"

I pondered this for about a millisecond, then pulled her sideways into my lap, and leaned in to kiss her. Her arms went around my neck.

We lost ourselves in one another for a long time. When we finally came to our senses, my shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, and my hair had been pulled loose from its ponytail. Her hair was also now loose, her skirt was pushed up, and my hand was inside her top, gently cupping her breast. We were panting.

She moaned softly against my cheek. "Mark, please."

"Please what? Please stop? Please keep going?" I nuzzled her neck. "Tell me."

"Ohhh, I feel like I'm a teenager again! I want more, but I can't," she whimpered. And I suddenly understood - or perhaps it was that I remembered. She was pregnant. Way pregnant. I slipped my hand, regretfully, from her breast and just held her close, content just to be with her. As our breathing slowed, and we relaxed, I sighed.

"Sad?"

"Content, more like," I replied, stroking her lovely hair.

"I didn't mean to tease you, Mark," her voice was serious. "And I'm afraid . . ."

"Oh what?" Was she scared of me?

She giggled suddenly against my chest. "Um, well. There's no polite way to say this, but - I have a bad case of the . . . How do they put it?" She was babbling, but I let her babble. It felt nice to just hold her. "Um, the pregnancy books call in "an increase in libido". I've been calling it the pregnancy hornies. I was afraid that what I felt for you was just my hormones talking."

The pregnancy hornies? I had to laugh at that. "Honey, do I look pregnant?"

"Mark!" She smacked me playfully.

"You may have the pregnancy hornies, but last time I checked, we were both involved here." I looked down at my opened shirt and her mussed skirt. And I was evil - I shifted her on my lap so she could feel my erection.

She gasped - and blushed. "It appears we were."

I kissed her cheek. "I like you Isabelle, but I'm not going to deny that I lust after you. I also feel protective and possessive of you. Now, the liking part is one thing that is not going to change. Will the rest of it? I don't know. They could just be a response to your beautiful pregnant self. After you have these babies," I rested my hand gently on her belly, "maybe I won't feel the same about you physically, and maybe you won't feel the same about me. But for now, I'm having a whale of a time being with such a beautiful . . ." I kissed one cheek, "sexy . . ." kissed the other cheek, "woman." I finished with a long slow kiss on those pretty lips.

She stared up at me, those hazel eyes serious again. "Oh boy. You are very good, you know that?"

"No, I'm very bad. I'm assuming that intercourse is out of the question, but what about . . . other things?"

She blushed. "I think . . . other things could be possible." She shifted on my lap, wriggling against me. "Oh yes, very possible."

I'd never been with a pregnant woman before. And I didn't want to be with any other. It was Isabelle who was the attraction, not her body. Well, okay, it was her body, but not because it was pregnant, but because it was hers. At least, I thought that was it. Only one way to find out.

I lifted her from my lap and stood her in front of me. Then I very slowly undressed her. Naked, she was incredible. Her body looked fit and toned, but there was something so lush about that pregnant belly, and her full breasts. I ran my hands over her gently. She took one of my hands and pulled at it.

I stood up, as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"My turn to see you," her voice was low and a little rough. "Please?"

Chapter 34 - Isabelle

I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, and watched breathlessly as Mark undressed. His body was incredible, hard and muscular. The tattoos covered his arms, and there was one on his belly, but the rest of his skin was creamy and unmarked. I didn't really know how we'd gotten to this point - I hadn't expected dinner to lead to thhis. But I was very glad it had.

"Oh my god!" I couldn't help it. His penis was massive - well, so was the rest of him, so I guess it was in proportion, but still . . .

He chuckled lazily. "You know, I get that a lot."

"I'd like to get it a lot," I couldn't take my eyes off it. Damn. It was raining soup and I had - a fork. Still, there were . . . other things.

He walked over to where I sat, and knelt in front of me. "You think Paul and Joanie would mind if I kissed the bump?"

I had to smile. I shook my head and he gently kissed my belly. It tickled, then it felt - good. Very good. I felt him gently pushing me back to lie on the bed, as he kissed further down my belly.

"Ohhhh yes," I was moaning, as his lips moved further down.

"Oh baby, look at this," he spoke softly, trailing his fingers over my smooth mound. I'd always waxed, and he apparently liked that. "Oh this is just lovely."

His fingers gently traced my lips and I quivered. It was frustrating not to be able to see him past my belly, but then I noticed the cheval mirror in the corner of the room. "Mark?"

"Yes?" he sounded a little distracted. I sat up, taking away his distraction momentarily.

"Could you bring the mirror over here? I'd like to see you, doing . . . me."

When we had the mirror arranged to our satisfaction, he took up his position between my thighs again, and started that long slow tease. I was so aroused I thought I might come as soon as he touched me. He was incredible, the way he shifted between little touches and kisses and licks, always keeping me in suspense. I moaned and spread my legs wider. It seemed to have been the invitation he was looking for. His tongue was suddenly on me, in me. He took me to the brink again and again, backing off at the last moment so that I would calm and he could begin again. Finally, when I thought I could stand it no longer, his tongue worked my swollen clitoris steadily and suddenly I was screaming his name as my orgasm shook me.

He lapped at me gently, soothing me, stroking my thighs as I trembled and gasped. He crawled up onto the bed beside me and gathered me into his arms, stroking my back and my hair.

I wanted to weep at his tenderness. But I wanted something else as well. I wanted to return the favour. After all, one mind-blowing orgasm deserves another.

I pondered the mechanics as my hand found its way to his hard shaft. I stroked him gently as I thought. Finally, I urged him to move further up on the bed, and lie on his side. I scooted down until I was in position near his cock, also lying on my side. This was good, I thought, as I licked lazily as his tip. From his groan, I thought it was a good start.

Chapter 35 - Mark

Oh god. Other things were turning out to be pretty amazing. Isabelle was lying on her side next to my cock, licking me gently. I'd never had head in this position before, but it was turning out to be interesting. I could thrust slowly into her warm, wet mouth, and she could touch every inch of me, which she was doing.

The feel of her mouth on me was like heaven. She licked and sucked, all the while pumping me slowly and firmly with her hand. I grabbed a second pillow, and propped it under my head. The sight of that beautiful body, and her mouth and hand working on me, was turning me on even more.

Her hands stroked and caressed my thighs, my balls, and my cock, and all the while she licked and sucked at the tip. And that spot right under it, she would sort of scrape it with her teeth. The first time she did I thought I'd come, but it was only the slightest graze. But the more she did it, the hotter I got. I had to thrust, and she controlled the motion with one hand on my hip while still pumping my length. She swirled her tongue around my cock as it moved in and out of her lips, and I knew I wasn't going to last much longer.

"Ohhh god," was all I could manage in the way of warning. She sealed her lips around me and held my hip firm as I came, her hand gently pumping me. Finally, she released me - and was then gone. What the hell? When I was able to stand, I realised she had gone in to the bathroom. Now I was worried.

I knocked on the door, but it swung open at my touch. "Isabelle?" I didn't want to go in unless she said it was alright. The light flicked on, and I saw her, bent over the sink, rinsing her mouth.

"Oh honey! You didn't have to - if you didn't want me to finish in your mouth . . ." I was embarrassed. It does happen, even to bad asses.

She shook her head and reached for the mouthwash again. After swishing her mouth, she looked up at me and smiled. "Call it another of those pregnancy changes. I normally enjoy it, but right now, well . . . I didn't know, or I wouldn't have done that. Sorry, I didn't want you feel like you forced me or anything."

I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her close. "Okay, new rule. I don't finish in your mouth anymore."

She looked up at me, her eyes twinkling. "We might change that rule, if you still want to after . . ."

She meant if I still wanted her after the babies were born. I was pretty sure I would, but I was old and wise enough not to make rash promises. Looking over her shoulder, I spotted the huge whirlpool bath. "Mmmmm, could you go for a bath with me?" I ran my hand down her back to cup her butt.

"I would normally say yes, but tonight I'm pretty tired. Do you want to spend the night?"

I found her directness refreshing. And I wanted so much to say yes, but I knew I had to be up early in the morning. "Not tonight, Isabelle. I don't want to wake you at the crack of dawn. But can I get a raincheck for tomorrow night? And Monday?"

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" she grinned up at me.

"Yep."

"Well, I'll think about it," she teased.

Tease me, huh? I bent down and kissed her - hard. My hands got busy while I did. When I let her go, she was breathless. "You were saying?"

"Um, yeah - you can stay with me tomorrow night, and Monday night and . . ." and she grabbed my head and pulled me down into a kiss as serious as the one I had just laid on her.

"And?"

"Just 'and' - we'll figure it out as we go along. See you tomorrow night." She kissed me again. As I dressed, I heard the shower running, and when I stuck my head in to say goodbye, she was drying off. I kissed her gently and left as she was climbing into bed. Isabelle didn't wear pajamas. I liked that.

I know I was grinning like a fool as I went up to my own room. But I was a happy fool. I made a phone call before I took a quick shower and hit the hay.

Chapter 36 - Joanie

We didn't see Bella before we left in the morning for Fan Axxess. There was a Do Not Disturb sign on her door, so we honoured it. I did wonder if Mark was in there, after last night, but he met us in the elevator.

Fan Axxess was busy, and that made the time fly by. Mark and I sat backstage talking in between sessions, being joined by other wrestlers from time to time. Paul and I also found time to recapture a little piece of our past by sneaking off into an empty office and making love on the desk. Ah, memories!

We got sprung coming out of the office by Chris Jericho, who wagged his finger at us with a little smile. Paul gave him the finger, with a very broad grin.

My stint at Fan Axxess was finished mid-afternoon, so I headed back to the hotel to shower and change for the PPV. I called the day spa to see if Bella was still there, but they told me she'd left, so I called her room. She answered on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Bella, it's me. Are you ready for Summerslam?"

"Just about to change now, come on over. I'll leave the door unlocked."

I grabbed my purse and key card, and headed to Bella's room. True to her word, she had left the door unlocked, and I let myself in, calling to let her know it was me.

There was a huge bunch of roses on the table. I mean, huge. There had to be three or four dozen yellow roses there. "Bella, who did the flowers come from?"

She walked out of the bathroom, still putting on her earrings. "Mark sent them. Yellow roses from Texas and all. It was a thank you for a lovely evening. I already told him it was a little excessive."

A little excessive? Suddenly I was struck by what Bella was wearing. I didn't believe it - another new outfit. This was pretty - a skirt and top in pale pink jersey, with bands of pink lace in the skirt and under the bust. She had teamed it with flat ballet slippers and pearls. And the day spa had obviously agreed with her - she was absolutely glowing. And it seemed that she had taken advantage of the beauty parlour as well. Her hair was piled on top of her head in soft curls and tendrils, and she was wearing the prettiest makeup.

"Wow, I look like a crone in comparison! You've been shopping without me," I accused with a laugh.

"I wanted some new things for this weekend, just to make it special."

"I think it's worked - there wasn't a man in the restaurant last night who could take his eyes off you, and tonight you are way too gorgeous for a bunch of wrestlers."

"Am I overdressed?"

"No, just too beautiful for mortal men. C'mon, let's go and find our limo. The pre-show entertainment can be a lot of fun at these things."

When we arrived at the venue, our VIP passes got us backstage first. Mindful of not tiring Bella too much, I found a spot for us to sit, and I pointed out what was going on in preparation for the show. Various of my friends, most of whom also knew Bella, dropped by to say hello at some point. As the activity began to ramp up for the show, Bella and I made our way to the arena proper and to our corporate suite. We would head backstage again after the show.

The corporate suite offered us a great view of the whole arena, but the big screen TV would show us the detail. We fixed ourselves a plate each from the buffet and made ourselves comfortable.

"What did you mean about the pre-show entertainment, Joanie?" Bella asked me.

"Them," I gestured to the fans who were streaming in to their seats.

She quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Watch and learn," I laughed. The fans were incredible to see. They were dressed in WWE merchandise, some in complete character makeup as well. We played "Spot the Game" and "Spot the Undertaker" for a while, then amused ourselves with counting how many signs there were for different wrestlers.

As Bella had no history, it was fun to explain that "What?" and "Austin 3:16" and "F*ck Fear" were all signs supporting Steve Austin. The plethora of signs for Mark amazed her - "Dead Man", "Phenom", "Taker", Bad Ass". "Red Devil, Big Evil" amused her no end.

I don't know which I got more enjoyment out of that night - the show or Bella's reaction to it. I got quickly used to giving her a run down of the storyline that had led to each match, and explaining who was the face and who was the heel. Once she had the "libretto", as she insisted on calling it, she threw herself into the spirit, cheering for the face, booing the heel, howling for blood. She was great fun to watch!

Paul was feuding with Shawn Michaels at the time, and she sat on the edge of her seat the whole of their match, admitting she didn't know who she wanted to "win". Paul was on a heel turn at the time, and Shawn was always a face. She was happy with the result, with Paul walking away the winner, but cheered just as loud when Shawn snuck up behind him and hit him with a low shot as he was leaving.

She didn't particularly enjoy the cage match that Chris Jericho and Christian had, probably because of the blood that was spilt. But she thought the women's title match was incredible, and I had to agree. Victoria and Trish put on a hell of a show, and Trish was awarded the title at the end.

Mark had the highlight match of the card, which once again had him feuding with Glenn Jacobs, as Kane. The plot line was rather convoluted, so I attempted to summarise it for Bella. Kane's entrance amazed Bella.

"Good Lord, he's as big as Mark!" she giggled.

"There are one or two who are bigger than Mark," I told her with a laugh.

When Mark's new entrance music hit, the arena erupted. They had kept his return quiet and had promoted that Kane would be fighting Nathan Jones for the title in the headline match. However, Mark and Nathan had filmed a brawl backstage yesterday, and that footage would be shown to explain why Kane's big brother, the Undertaker, was now heading out to the ring.

Mark looked incredible - Paul was right, he was going to be monster. He was in incredible physical shape, and he moved like a much younger man since his surgery. I looked over at Bella, and blinked. She was staring at him with open lust. Understandable, millions of women around the world lust after him, but this seemed pretty intense.

She stood up and moved to the open window of the suite, standing spellbound as he entered the ring. He looked straight up at her. This was no random stare into the upper decks - he knew exactly who he was looking at. He brought his hand down and tapped his fist against his chest twice, before turing to the rest of the arena to acknowledge the crowd. Bella stayed where she was, holding on to the window frame, and I could see a tear roll down her face.

It seemed I didn't have to explain the gesture to her. Most of the guys had adopted it, at one time or another, as a symbol directed to the woman they loved. Paul had made the same gesture earlier in the evening, and I knew it was for me. But I hadn't told Bella - there are some things better kept private, right? But she knew - and only one person could have told her about it. The person who made the gesture.

She stood there for the whole match, watching Mark and Glenn fight. It was a hell of a match, and Mark was victorious, winning the title. As his arm was raised by Earl Hebner, he turned to face our suite again, and made exactly the same gesture. Goddamnit - I knew it!!

As he left the ring, I realised Bella was crying, and I gently took her by the shoulders and made her sit in her chair again. Not only was he in love with her, but she was in love with him. God help me, the trainwreck was in progress.

I stroked her shoulder gently, and finally asked, "When?"

She knew what I was talking about. "I've felt it almost since I met him, but . . . last night."

"He obviously feels the same way."

"Yes. But . . ."

There was a "but"? Oh hell. "What, Bella?"

"Joanie, my hormones are so out of whack right now, I don't know what I feel, and Mark admitted that me being pregnant has some emotional effects on him too. Right now, it's good. Once your babies are born, we just don't know."

Now I was crying. Life was just not fair. My darling Bella was carrying my babies, and she was in love with a special man. Only it was possible that the love was born out of her pregnancy, and would be over once our babies were born.

She straightened in her chair, and took a tissue from her purse to wipe her eyes. "Joanie, for now, it's wonderful. I couldn't be happier. But I've been thinking about what happens when the babies are born."

I took a tissue from my own purse, wiped my eyes and sat back down beside her.

She went on. "It's going to be very strange all round, isn't it? I'm going to be dealing with post pregnancy hormones, you're going to be learning to be a mommy, and now there's this thing with Mark. So I've decided that, once I'm up to it and we're sure the babies are okay, I'm going to be taking a long trip."

"Where?"

"I'm going to book a junior suite on the Queen Mary 2 and spend six months or so sailing around the world. I've already been planning it. I can take a whole series of cruises, from one place to another. I figure the business can run itself. You and Paul can get to know your babies without having to worry about me right next door, and I can . . . think, I guess. Think about what happens next with the business, work out how I feel about Mark, get back in shape after the pregnancy. Then I can pick up my life when I get back."

"Bella, are you sure about this?"

"I was sure even before this thing with Mark. Now I'm positive. I'm going to need a break from everything, and this seems like the best idea."

"When will you tell Mark? That you are going away?"

"I'm a coward, Joanie. I won't tell him until after your babies are born. I won't even think about it until then, besides making the bookings. I want to enjoy this time with him, because it may be all I get." She started to weep again, very softly. And I remembered what she had said about having bad luck with men. My poor Bella. I hugged her tight, and we sat together for a long time, until we were composed enough to head backstage again.

Mark and Paul were waiting for us. Mark smiled at Bella, and then lifted her hand to his lips to kiss it gently. Her smile could have lit up the arena, and I knew she had been true to her word. She wasn't thinking about the future at all, she was living in the now, and I silently wished her well.

Paul raised an eyebrow at me, and I could see that I was going to have some 'splaining to do later. Oh well. I really hadn't been meddling this time, so I had nothing to worry about. And it would be good for Paul to know what was happening, because then the two of us could help in the aftermath.

Chapter 37 - Mark

I was pumped. My return to the ring had been all I could have hoped for, and more. The match I had worked with Glenn felt like one of the best of my career, and the acclaim from the locker room had been on a par with that from the crowd. It felt so damn good to be back.

And then there was Isabelle. My Isabelle.

I had ordered flowers for her last night. Roses - yellow ones. I know it's usually red roses for love, but I'm a Texan. Besides, yellow roses mean joy and gladness, and I was damn sure feeling those emotions. I wrote her a letter, which I dropped by the hotel florist before I left for Fan Axxess, so they could deliver it with the flowers later. I included my cellphone number, and asked her to call me when she got them.

My phone beeped right on 10.00am, just after Paul, Joanie and I had arrived at the arena. I excused myself and found a quiet spot to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Mark, they are beautiful - but four dozen roses?? Didn't you go just a bit overboard?" Her voice was happy. Good.

"No, I didn't. Overboard would have been four dozen roses every hour on the hour. And don't think I didn't consider it."

She giggled. Oh man, did I like that sound.

"Isabelle, what colour are you wearing tonight?"

"Why?"

"In a minute. What colour?"

"Pink."

"Tonight, I want you to stand by the window of the suite when I make my entrance."

"Why?"

"What are you, the "why" girl?" I laughed. She giggled again. "If you stand by the window, then I can see you from the ring."

"You can?"

"Yep." She didn't ask me how I knew, for which I was glad. But I knew because I had done it before, in every arena I had been in, while I was married to Sara. Then I realised that I would have to explain, because Isabelle didn't know anything about wrestling. "You have watched wrestling before, right?"

"Yes, I watched a few shows on TV after Paul and Joanie moved in next door. Out of curiousity."

"Okay. Did you ever see a wrestler tap his fist over his heart, kind of like a gladiator salute?"

"Hmmmm. Yes, I think so. Yes! I saw Paul do it once, after a match. It was after Joanie retired."

"Okay. You know what that gesture means? It's a way to say "I love you" to someone. Someone special." I held my breath, waiting for her response.

"You mean, Paul was telling Joanie he loved her? In front of everyone, a private message just to her?"

"That's the idea."

"That is so romantic!" I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Tonight, when I see someone in pink at the window of the corporate suite, I'm going to be making that gesture."

"Oh Mark!" Her voice was very small and quiet, and I wondered if I had blown it. "Oh boy, you are staying with me tonight, and I am going to make some gestures of my own." Her voice was husky. I guessed I hadn't blown it after all.

"I'll bet you will, and I can't wait. You have a nice day now, pretty lady, and I'll see you this evening." I had a million others things I wanted to say, but they could wait until later. Especially since a great many of them were about just what gestures we could both make later, and I didn't really want to sit through an hour long autograph session with a hard-on.

And now, here she was in front of me. In pink, and looking fresh and lovely and sexy as hell. I wanted to tear her clothes off right there, but I figured that might make Paul and Joanie a little antsy. So I settled for kissing her hand. There was no real point in being subtle, they'd seen the gesture in the ring, they had to know who it was for. But I could be discreet. Yeah, even us bad ass biker types have our moments.

We rode back to the hotel in a limo. My treat. I figured my two best girls deserved it. Isabelle sat next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. Oh man, did that feel good. Lust aside, just good old human companionship was a feeling I hadn't had for a while. Being a hermit hadn't been the best for me, but I was back with the world now, and it didn't get much better than being with good friends after some great work.

I got off the elevator with Isabelle. I wasn't worried about being discreet anymore. I was going down the hall to spend the night with her. Paul and Joanie would just have to deal with it. I'd noticed the looks they were giving me. They loved Isabelle, and she was carrying precious cargo for them. But she was also her own woman, and right now she was my woman.

I was polite - I wished them a polite good evening, just as Isabelle did, and then I walked down the hall with her to her room.

Once we were inside, I did what I'd wanted to do since I'd seen her from the ring. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her. To my delight, she kissed me back, very thoroughly.

"You look very beautiful," I murmured, nuzzling her neck. Very convenient, that upswept hairstyle, giving me access to her pretty throat.

"Thank you. You look good too, and you smell good," she moaned, nuzzling at my chest. "And you looked hot at the arena. I couldn't believe how sexy you were out there."

"Why thank you ma'am. I aim to please."

"The only thing that would please me more would be seeing you naked again. Is that possible?" she purred, pressing against me.

"Oh, I think I can arrange that," I nuzzled some more. "Last night, I asked you if you wanted to take a bath with me. How about right now?"

"I'll fill the tub!" She was gone out of my arms in a flash. I chuckled - seemed like she was still liking me well enough.

A little later, we were in the tub together. Fortunately it was a big tub, because between me and her belly, we pretty much filled it. It was nice to have to be in close quarters though. Very nice. We were relaxing, at least I was. For the moment. I'd been wrestling a lot of years, and I'm a big man. Knee surgery notwithstanding, I still had plenty of aching joints and muscles after a match. Being in the warm water was helping. Being with Isabelle was helping even more.

It started just with kissing. Then there was touching and stroking and feeling. Lots of it, with sighs and moans and gasps. Damn, but we just couldn't get enough of one another. I dimly recall sitting on the edge of the tub at one point, Isabelle kneeling in the water before me, doing things with her hands and tongue that had me almost insane. When I came, it was all over her breasts. After we got out of the tub, we showered together and then headed for the bed.

Waking the next morning spooned up with Isabelle in my arms was the best feeling. We ordered breakfast, ate and went back to bed, lying together and talking. Isabelle wanted very much to come to the Raw show this evening, and wanted to rest up well. I didn't mind - I got to lie in bed with her, talking and touching. Lots of touching. She felt good.

When we finally got out of bed, I had to leave her to get some fresh clothes. She laughed and shooed me when I said I'd come back and get dressed in her room. She was right - we wouldn't have gotten out of the room at all. Specially when I came back and saw the outfit she was wearing. Black lace. Head to foot. A halter top and pants. Fitted. Our Divas never wore anything sexier. I growled and nuzzled her. A lot.

We were travelling to the arena with Paul and Joanie, and the looks on their faces were priceless, Paul's especially. I'd probably had the same expression on my own face occasionally, even when I was married. Hey, a man can't help looking, right? As I recalled, Sara's response to it was exactly the same as Joanie's - a sharp poke in the ribs. Paul was well trained - he rolled that tongue right back up, quick smart. I got the feeling I'd be beating the guys off with a stick tonight. That was okay. They could look all they wanted, but Isabelle was coming home with me.

Chapter 38 - Joanie

Our Summerslam weekend was an eyeopener - in more ways than one. Bella and Mark - well, I was surprised, and happy for them. But I was still worried about the trainwreck potential. As for Bella's wardrobe - wow! She'd chosen such conservative stuff when we'd shopped together, and then hauled out all this sexy stuff later. She had explained the hormone thing, but still! Mark was happy though - as was most of the male roster.

I did worry about how Bella would cope after Summerslam. Mark - and Paul - were going back to the road, and I knew I missed Paul dreadfully when he was away, even knowing he would be home for a long break in only six weeks. Bella just shrugged and told me that was what phones and hands were for.

Having the woman who is carrying your children tell you matter of factly that she's planning on having phone sex on a regular basis is too much information. Trust me!

I fortunately had other outlets, although I perhaps did also indulge in Bella's exercise. I'm not saying anymore, except that I was told by the Game himself that I was that damn good. Read what you will into that.

Bella had found me the perfect property to open my own gym, and I had been busy with it for months, as well as decorating the nursery for the babies. Having the gym remodelled and fitted out, choosing staff, advertising and everything else kept me well occupied. The official opening was set for the weekend of Unforgiven, which was being held in Stamford. I'll admit, I was cashing in on that - it wasn't going to hurt to have a whole bunch of WWE superstars on hand for the event.

I wanted to get the gym up and running before the babies were born. One of the first things I had insisted on in the plans was a creche/day care centre, because once I got used to being a mommy, I was planning to be working there myself. But delays with the building code approvals had pushed the opening back to September, when I had really hoped for it to be sooner. Because Bella was due in October.

She assured me that she was fine, and our regular doctor's checkups confirmed it. Still, I worried. But she was sanguine. Serene even. She was also huge. Our twins were "bigging up nicely", as our ultrasound nurse put it, and Bella looked like she would pop at any minute.

In retrospect, I probably should have delayed the opening until after the birth. I mean, the doctor had said that twins often came early. He said it a number of times.

Still, it did make for a splash at the opening - literally. Bella's water broke just after the gym was officially opened. My babies and my baby (as in my own gym) were going to be born on the same day.

Despite two huge men trying very hard to help, and mostly getting in the way, Bella and I remained calm and handled things quite well. She called for an ambulance on her cellphone while I called the doctor on mine. We met at the door, and Bella gave me an angelic smile.

"Well, looks like you're about to become a mommy!"

Chapter 39 - Mark

I have never felt so useless in my life as I did the moment Isabelle went into labour at the opening of Joanie's gym. Never. I think Paul felt the same way. I wanted to do something, and there was nothing I could do. Isabelle had that serene look on her face again, and I got the feeling that was one of the reasons women had babies, rather than men. She was able to simply wait - to let nature take its course. She and Joanie knew what to do, and did it without fuss.

It was astounding, watching them on their cellphones. Isabelle explaining calmly to the 911 operator that she was in labour with premature twins, and Joanie speaking to their doctor, getting instructions and relaying information. I wanted to sweep Isabelle off her feet and carry her to the hospital myself, just to be doing something.

I think Linda McMahon saw what was happening, because I felt her hand on my arm as I stood there clenching my fists and my jaw, feeling like I was going to explode if I didn't do something - anything.

"Mark, they have it under control. They'll be fine," she said, patting my arm before turning to Paul, who was standing beside me in a similar state. "Perhaps you could go and get the bag I'm sure Isabelle has packed for the hospital?"

Women are the most amazing creatures - Linda gave us a simple task to do and we were set. We were going to be useful, damnit, in a situation where we were most definitely unnecessary. In the old days, she would have set us to chopping wood and boiling water, I'm sure. But this was just as good.

We stopped at the door with our women, just as the ambulance arrived. Isabelle was speaking calmly and rationally about her pregnancy and gestation to the paramedics while being helped onto a stretcher, while Joanie was timing contractions and coaching her through her breathing. Behind them, Linda and Stephanie McMahon, co-owners of a huge corporation, were on their knees with some of the staff, using towels to mop up amniotic fluid from the new carpet.

I'm not sure that Joanie even heard Paul tell her that he was going to collect Isabelle's bag. She wasn't ignoring him exactly, he just wasn't her primary concern. Neither was I. I was far from important in this, except it was the woman I loved in the ambulance, moaning through contractions and about to deliver twins for someone else to raise. My heart was aching.

Paul and I collected Isabelle's bag, and then played the role of expectant fathers, circa 1950. Joanie was Isabelle's labour coach, and Isabelle's friend Mary was there to capture the important moments on film. So we had nothing to do but pace. At least we were doing something, although a pile of wood and a couple of axes might have worked better. Especially when one of the labour and delivery nurses came out to tell us that Isabelle's labour wasn't progressing and they were taking her to the OR for an emergency cesaerean.

I'm not a particularly religious man, but I had noticed the sign that pointed to the chapel. It wasn't fancy, just a little room. But I got down on my knees and prayed to whoever was listening for Paul and Joanie's babies - and my beautiful Isabelle - to be okay.

Chapter 40 - Paul

I watched Mark walk off and stood there alone. I didn't know what to do - or think. Fortunately, there was someone I could talk to. The guys who had been at the opening of Joanie's gym were waiting in one of the hospital conference rooms. The director figured it would be better to give them - and us - a little privacy. I walked in and let everyone know what was going on, and immediately, the one person I hoped to speak to made his way to me.

Shawn and I had been friends for years. He had a child of his own, and he had been praying for Joanie and I all through this time. There was something strong and positive about his newly found faith, and I needed his strength right now, because I seemed to be all out.

We sat together in the waiting room, and he just gave me his support. He prayed, and so did I. At some point, Mark came back in, and the three of us sat together, taking what strength we could from one another. And we waited for news of my children and Mark's love.

Twos hour later, Mary came in, beaming. "I made them let me tell you - Isabelle is fine, and you," she looked at me, "are the proud papa of the most beautiful boy and girl I have ever seen! They are just tidying everyone up, but you two can come on back soon. Go - spread the word!"

Shawn, Mark and I just looked at one another, and grinned. Suddenly, Mark's eyes filled with tears, and so did mine. Shawn smiled, and said he'd go and let everyone know the good news. I nodded, because I couldn't find my voice just yet. When the labour and delivery nurse came to get us, we had got it together a little more. It didn't last long.

In Isabelle's room were now two cradles, and Joanie was standing beside them. She took my hand, and said very softly, "Paul, I'd like to introduce you to your son and daughter."

I didn't care right then about being the Game, or the Cerebral Assassin or anything else. I was a father. We had known for months that Isabelle was carrying a boy and girl because of the ultrasounds, but we'd kept it quiet. Now they were here. Two tiny people - our son and daughter. I didn't care that I was crying, and I couldn't stop hugging Joanie.

"I hope I did okay," came a quiet voice from behind us. "Because, much as I love you both, I am not having any more babies for you!" Isabelle was a little pale, but obviously still, as Mark would say, full of piss and vinegar.

I turned to look at her. Mark was sitting by the bed, holding her free hand in his. The other was hooked up to IVs and monitors. "Darling Bella, you did just fine."

"Don't you call my woman "darling", you big ape," Mark growled. The whole effect was somewhat lessened by the tears in his eyes, and the grin on his face.

Eventually, the babies were moved to the nursery, and the WWE roster turned out to goo and gaa through the window at them. Joanie was rooming in until the babies were able to come home, doing what most new mothers do - learning how to feed and bathe them, to take care of them. I was having lessons too. The only difference between Joanie and any other mother on the maternity wing was that Joanie hadn't physically given birth.

Isabelle was the fish out of water. She had given birth, but had no babies to take care of. She was recovering from surgery. And her hormones were majorly out of whack. The doctor explained to us that normally, women who have and lose or give up babies are given drugs that will help their hormones adjust to the absence of the baby, but Isabelle was pumping breast milk for the twins and the drugs would interfere with that. They thought that it would be good for the twins if she could do so for at least a week, and she insisted that she wanted to try.

Joanie and I visited often, and so did Mark, but otherwise, she wasn't the focal point of attention. Joanie and the twins were. And so it didn't really come as a surprise to me when Joanie told me about Isabelle's plans to take off for six months once she was sufficiently recovered from the surgery. There was a sadness in her eyes that was not going to go away any time soon if she was living right next door to the babies she had carried for us. I just wondered what Mark would think about it.

Chapter 41 - Mark

I wanted to take time off to be with Isabelle, but so soon after my return, it just wasn't possible. So I ate up frequent flier miles coming back to Stamford every day, or at least every other day. She looked better each time I saw her - so being away was in some ways helpful. If I just sat and looked at her all day, like I wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to see the improvement, gradual though it was.

When I said she looked better, it was only physically. It hadn't really hit me until she was getting into the ambulance that she was going to have those babies and give them away to someone else. It probably would have been easier for her to give them to strangers than to Paul and Joanie. Joanie told me that Isabelle had not wanted to see the twins after they were born. Most days I saw her, I knew she had been crying. And I did the only thing I could think of - I got on that narrow-ass hospital bed with her and held her in my arms. The nurses quit trying to make me stop doing it, because I just ignored them.

But I did manage to get a few days off to take her home. Joanie and the twins were still in the hospital, because they had after all been born a little prematurely. We sat in her kitchen. She was still pale, but she was improving. I looked at her sweet face. And I wondered how long it would take for her to start to smile again. Then she blindsided me.

"Mark, I'm going away."

"What?"

"I'm going away."

"For how long?" This was not happening. I was not losing this woman, not now.

"Six months, maybe longer."

I wanted to grab her and shake her. "Why? Where?"

"I'm taking a cruise, a long cruise. I decided this months ago, before you and I . . . Mark, I can't be here right now. I can't live next door to those babies, not when I can still feel them moving inside me. Not when my body is screaming for them. And Paul and Joanie need to be able to focus on the twins without thinking about what I might feel if I hear them in the garden, or see them in the street. So I'm going to New York to see some old friends for a few weeks, and then I'm leaving on the cruise."

Her voice was so . . . flat. This was not the woman I knew, not the woman I fell in love with. She was a stranger to me.

"And what about me? What about us?"

"Mark, I don't know. Right now, I can't even think about me, let alone you, or us. Can you trust me to get myself back together and then decide? Because if you push me for a decision right now, the answer will be - there is no you and me."

What I wanted to do was walk away. It looked like what Joanie had told John about Isabelle had been right - she wasn't good with relationships. I was actually up and halfway across the room, leaving, when I heard her sobbing. I thought about that painting by DaVinci, and I wondered how his madonna would feel if her baby was taken away. Probably just like Isabelle. No more serenity or tenderness, just an emptiness inside. And here I was, pushing her about our relationship. It hit me that I was being a selfish son-of-a-bitch. I'm not stupid, just slow sometimes.

I walked back and sat down beside her. I don't think she even knew she was crying.

"Darling Isabelle, I have only one condition."

She looked up at me with wet eyes. "What's that?"

"I want regular emails, and postcards from the places you visit. And I want you to call me when you come home, when you are ready to see me again. Then we can talk. Ok?"

She smiled. All of a sudden, she was my little madonna again. And I knew that eventually we would sort things about between us.

I stayed with her while she packed for her trip. I slept in the guestroom. And we talked, like friends. I rented a car two days later and drove her to New York. And then I went back on the road.

She was true to her word. She emailed me even before she left New York. She'd had her final check-up after the surgery just before the Queen Mary 2 was due to sail, and she said she was fine. The next email contained pictures of her suite, and included one of her on the balcony, taken by her steward. She still looked pale, and a little thin, but she was smiling.

She sent postcards from everywhere. And once a CD full of photographs and videoclips. She was in some of them, and she looked tanned and fit. And smiling. For Christmas, she sent me a beautiful sweater from Scotland, and some incredible flash art from a tattooist in Manchester. Joanie told me she'd sent gifts for the twins, and was now asking to see pictures of them. I counted that a good sign.

Her emails came every day, like travel diary entries. Sometimes there were only a few sentences, others were long, rambling, stream of consciousness letters. I saved every one of them. Finally, the email I had been waiting for came, in April:

Mark

Ship docks in New York on April 12. Give me a week to settle in? Then I want to see you.

Love Isabelle

There was an attachment, a short video file. In it, she was standing on the deck of the ship, the ocean behind her. She raised her hands above her head, then brought her right hand down to tap it over her heart. She was smiling.

I told Vince I needed some time off. He wasn't convinced it was a good idea. But I had a secret weapon - I took my laptop to Linda and showed her the video. Vince was a businessman. Linda was a businesswoman. I got my time off. Come April 19, I was in a rental car heading to Greenwich and Isabelle.

Chapter 42 - Isabelle

As the ship sailed in to New York, I knew I had made all the right decisions. I was physically well, rested and relaxed. My body was back to normal after the pregnancy, and I was happy in myself.

Paul and Joanie were there to meet me as the ship docked. They had with them two sturdy six month old babies, who were not mine, but theirs. I was delighted to see how happy and healthy they were, and how happy Paul and Joanie were. There was no strangeness, no unhappiness. I was Auntie Isabelle, just as I had been Auntie Isabelle to Toby and Liz's baby girl in London.

I spent the week getting settled back in. My house was just as I had left it, well cared for by my housekeeper and gardener, but I shopped and stocked the refrigerator and pantry. My business was flourishing, even without my hand at the helm. I left them to it, not eager to get involved in something that was working fine without me.

I pottered in the garden, and I spent time next door with Paul and Joanie and their twins, Owen and Maisie. They were wonderful little people, and I adored them. Paul was working some great librettos, and Joanie's gym was doing so well she was thinking of opening a second one. I did some classes at Joanie's gym, but she was too tough for me, so I went back to my home workouts.

While the twins were prospering, Joanie and Paul were still exploring ways to expand their family. Joanie was undergoing a new treatment for her fibroids, and hoped to be able to have IVF in future and carry her own babies. I prayed for that - she was such a good mommy, and Paul was so great as a dad. It was nice to live next door to them.

But I was waiting to see Mark, to see what was there for us. I had no illusions - it could be nothing, but even so, I was hoping we could still be friends. On the morning of April 19, I was up early. I baked some bread, and then settled back with a book in the conservatory. He was arriving around lunchtime, according to his latest email. When I heard a car in the drive, I walked to the door and opened it. Mark was coming up the walk, his pullcase behind him.

He looked well. I'd been watching the shows onboard the ship. Everytime he appeared, he'd given me that gesture, the one that said he loved me. Looking at him now, I felt my heart pound, and suddenly I knew how I felt about him. It wasn't just desire, it wasn't hormones - it was love.

His arms went around me as soon as he reached the door. I stood there, enfolded in his warm embrace. I closed my eyes and listened to the steady beat of his heart. I felt if I could stay there forever, I would be perfectly happy. Then I heard his tummy rumble, which made us both laugh.

"Come in, Mark, and I'll make us some lunch," I tugged his hand. He came willingly.

He sat in my sunny kitchen as I prepared a chicken salad to go with the freshly baked bread. We talked, not about anything serious. He had only been in my home twice before - once to put me to bed, and once when I told him I was leaving. He hadn't really seen it on either occasion.

"You're looking well," he commented casually, as I brought plates and silverware to the table.

"Thanks. So are you." He was, too. He looked long and lean as he lounged at the table. I brought out the salad and bread, and we sat down together.

Neither of us ate much. I was too busy looking at him from under my eyelashes, thinking how handsome he looked.

"Your hair," he said suddenly. "What do they call that style again?"

My hand went up to my head, as I said, "It's a French twist."

"You were wearing your hair like that the first time I met you."

"I was?" I couldn't honestly remember.

"You were. You looked like the Madonna," he said softly. "DaVinci's Madonna. I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you."

Ohhhh. "I fell in love with you when Paul told me you'd carried me to bed that first night. You were so nice, and so gorgeous, and I couldn't get over the fact that I'd been in your arms and I hadn't known it. Only I didn't know it was love - I thought it was just my hormones talking."

"I've missed you so much," his voice was low, and rough with desire.

"And I've missed you."

"Take your hair down for me, please Isabelle? I want to see it all long and loose and lovely. I want to kiss you and run my fingers through it."

I stood up as he did, my hands pulling at the pins holding my hair in place. His hands went around my waist, and suddenly I felt a familiar sensation. It showed on my face.

"What is it?" he asked, looking down at me with those extraordinary green eyes.

"I think I just ovulated," my voice sounded breathless. But it was true, I knew that sensation only too well.

"That," he growled, "is the most erotic thing I have ever heard a woman say."

We never made it to the bed. We tore at one another's clothes and Mark steered me towards the wide daybed in the conservatory. We were kissing frantically, our hands all over each other. Finally we were naked, and Mark pushed me down onto the daybed and covered me with his body. I didn't need anything more than that. I was screaming his name before he even entered me. He propped himself on his arms and thrust into me, looking down at me with such love in his eyes that I thought I would die for him. I wrapped my shaking legs around him and pulled his head down so I could kiss him.

All I could do was pant in his ear as he moved inside me, saying his name and telling him I loved him. Finally, he came with a moan and collapsed on top of me. We lay there together for a long time, panting. I refused to let him leave my body. The sense of loss as his penis softened and withdrew was unbearable. I clung to him and wept.

Eventually, he picked me up and carried me upstairs, as he had done that first night. He put me down gently on the bed, and then lay down beside me. We fell asleep in one another's arms.

We spent every moment together, relearning one another and strengthening our friendship. He had to leave in two weeks to go back to work, and I realised I would have to get used to that. But it seemed an easy thing to manage, now that we were finally together. We spoke daily, and I treasured those moments when I saw him on the screen and he made that gesture of love.

A month after I had arrived home, I still hadn't gone back to work. I had no great desire to do so. The business was fine. In fact, I had made enough money to offer to buy John out. He refused the offer, saying he thought his money was doing well enough where it was. I invested in more property and pottered around with some ideas for another online business.

I was in the pool one afternoon about a week later, when I felt an odd sensation in my abdomen. A sudden thought struck me, and I got out and grabbed a towel. I checked my PDA when I got into the house. I've always used it to track my periods, and I'd had a sudden suspicion. The PDA confirmed it. I was a week late.

A drugstore home pregnancy test suggested that I was pregnant, and the doctor confirmed it the next day. That night, when Mark called, I asked casually where he was going to be the next night. When he told me, I suggested I might fly in for a visit. He thought that was a great idea, and so I arranged to meet him at his hotel.

I was already waiting when he arrived. I had my hair in a French twist - it had been lucky for me so far, it seemed, and I needed all the help I could get tonight. We'd never discussed children or marriage.

He kissed me, quite thoroughly. His hands got busy with the zipper on my jeans, but I stilled them by covering them with my own.

"Mark?" I was trying to get his attention while he nuzzled at my neck.

"Mmmm?" was all the response I got.

Finally I took his face in my hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "Mark," I said. "Do I have your attention?"

"Yes, my darling Isabelle." Oh, he was good. Those sneaky hands were back at my zipper.

"Mark, we're pregnant."

It took a moment for that to sink in, I think. When it did, I saw it in his eyes. And then he let out a great yell and grabbed me, lifting me off my feet. When he finally put me down, it was his hands holding my face.

"We're having a baby?" One hand moved down to my belly, and I remembered the night we met, and the look on his face when he had felt Paul and Joanie's babies.

I smiled. "Yes, we are. We made it that first time, I think. On the daybed." There was still a mark on the cushion from our lovemaking. It made me smile every time I saw it.

"Will you marry me, Isabelle? Will you marry me and make me the happiest man alive?"

I kissed him and told him I would. Of course. It seemed like my French twist had been lucky for me again.

Epilogue - Isabelle

We set the wedding for the following month. Neither of us wanted to wait. I asked Joanie and Mary to be my attendants, and Mark asked Paul and Chris to stand up with him. It was a simple service at Mark's home in Texas - now our home. I had sold my house and everything in it but my personal possessions and moved to Texas once we'd decided to get married. The only furniture I took was the daybed - for sentimental reasons.

I wore an elegant ivory gown, and Joanie and Mary wore russet. We all wore our hair in French twists, which Mark thought was amusing, since I'd shared the story of my luck with the style with him.

Turned out that hairstyle wasn't only lucky for me. Joanie conceived her own baby the night of our wedding, the old fashioned way, and her second son was born barely three months after I gave birth to Mark's daughter, a little redhead like her daddy. And Mary disappeared with Chris after our wedding and turned up a week later wearing a wedding ring of her own.

Talk about your lucky hair styles!

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Shania Twain - You've got a Way (Written by Twain/Lange)

You've got a way with me
Somehow you got me to believe
In everything that I could be
I've gotta say-you really got a way

You've got a way it seems
You gave me faith to find my dreams
You'll never know just what that means
Can't you see... you got a way with me

It's in the way you want me
It's in the way you hold me
The way you show me just what love's made of
It's in the way we make love

You've got a way with words
You get me smiling even when it hurts
There's no way to measure what your love is worth
I can't believe the way you get through to me

It's in the way you want me
It's in the way you hold me
The way you show me just what love's made of
It's in the way we make love

Oh, how I adore you
Like no one before you
I love you just the way you are

It's in the way you want me
It's in the way you hold me
The way you show me just what love's made of
It's in the way we make love

It's just the way you are