that swept over her features was so beautiful it nearly stole his breath away. “He’s the most handsome, good-natured genius I’ve ever known,” she replied.
He smiled. “Sounds like a true motherly description to me.”
She swept her long braid back over her shoulder. “Okay, I’ll admit it, I might be a little bit biased. But honestly, he is a good-looking kid and he’s very easygoing and more than a little bit brilliant.”
“What do six-year-olds do nowadays?” Cole asked as he buttered the toast that had popped up. “Is he all into the video and computer stuff?”
“Actually, we’ve tried to keep that stuff away from him, but he has video games like every other kid his age. He and John spend a lot of time putting together puzzles and playing mind games. Max wants to be an FBI agent when he grows up, so he and I have a special game we play.”
He placed the plates with the omelets and toast on the table and then sat across from her. “What kind of a game?”
She picked up her fork and cut into the omelet. “It’s kind of a spin-off of the old I Spy game. Instead of me saying I spy something red or green and him trying to guess what it is, I point out a person or a place, give him a couple of seconds to look and then he can’t look again, and he describes as many details as he can to me.”
“And how does he do?”
She took a bite of the omelet and washed it down with a sip of milk before answering. “Better than a lot of other agents I’ve worked with in the past. He has a real attention to detail for somebody so young.”
Cole had once wanted children. As only children, both he and Emily had had a desire to fill a house with babies. They had decided to wait a couple of years before starting their big family, and when they had finally decided to get pregnant, it hadn’t happened.
“At the time of Emily’s murder, I was grateful that she and I hadn’t had any children to grieve for her, that there were no little ones depending on me for solace,” he said thoughtfully. “But hearing you talk about your son makes me wish that Emily and I had had a child.”
Amberly reached across the table and lightly touched the back of his hand, her eyes filled with a sympathy he both embraced and abhorred.
She pulled her hand away and instead picked up the last of her piece of toast. “Granny Nightsong would say that you’re a man trapped in the valley of shadows and you don’t realize that it’s your choice whether you decide to climb out or stay there.”
“I’m not sure I’d like your granny Nightsong,” he said, knowing that the topic of conversation combined with his frustration and exhaustion had sparked a sharp edge of irritation inside him.
“Everyone loved Granny Nightsong,” she countered, and there was a wistfulness in her voice that spoke of her own grief. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her.” Her eyes suddenly welled up with tears and she quickly shoved back from the table. “I’ve got to go to bed. When I start getting emotional, I know I’ve passed the point of exhaustion and entered the land of maudlin.”
She carried her plate to the sink, rinsed it and then placed it in the dishwasher. He did the same, and together they left the kitchen.
He led her to his guest bedroom, which contained nothing more than a bare dresser and a double-size bed covered in a light blue bedspread. “The bathroom is right across the hall. Anything you need, you should be able to find in the cabinets and towel closet.”
“Could I bother you for one of your T-shirts to sleep in?” she asked.
The idea of her naked beneath one of his shirts shot a sizzle of heat through him. “I’m sure I can find something for you,” he said and hurried down the hallway toward his own bedroom.
As he rummaged through his dresser drawers for a clean white T-shirt, he tried to keep Amberly out of his head. She was the first woman he’d invited into this home, but he reminded himself he’d made the invitation to her due to necessity. It was already almost two in the morning. He hadn’t wanted her on the road at this time of night, driving while exhausted beyond reason.
By the time he got the