like they could be related to Peabody. Free-Agey. And then . . . it was like I’d walked through some portal into an alternate universe.”
“The alternate universe of a retail establishment, without crime.”
“That,” she agreed. “So there was all this stuff, and somebody was like this would be good for this person, and I’m okay fine. Then it’s this would be good for that other person, and fine. Jesus, okay, fine. But it kept going and going. And the kid started hauling in stuff from his stall, saying you put this scarf or whatever with that thing, and this thing with the other. I just kept saying okay, fine, okay, because I wanted it to be over.
“I might have post-traumatic stress.”
He kissed her lightly. “Poor baby.”
“You don’t mean that. You think it’s funny. You think it’s funny because you’d have actually enjoyed all of it. But it gets worse.”
“How is that possible?”
“I was weakened by the experience. I made a bargain with Summerset.”
He pressed lips to her brow as if checking for fever. “It may be too late for the MTs.”
“Ha ha. Now because he’s going to wrap all that stuff, I have to participate in preparations for the party. Why are there two hundred and fifty-six people coming?”
“I believe it’ll be closer to two-seventy, and we welcome your participation. You’re a boss, remember? You’ll assign, delegate, decide, order. You might even enjoy it, a little.”
“I don’t think so, but a deal’s a deal.” She shifted a little, studied him. She thought of her reaction that morning when he’d walked out of her office unexpectedly.
So perfect, so pretty. All hers.
“You’re not wearing your suit.” She ran a hand down the cloud softness of his stone-gray tee.
“I’ve been home a bit longer than you. Actually got a quick swim in.”
“Huh. That doesn’t seem fair. You get a refreshing swim, relaxing clothes, and I get murder and shopping mayhem. Plus I’m still wearing my boots.”
“It doesn’t seem just, does it? Let’s see what I can do to even it all out.”
He levered up, lifted one of her legs, worked off the boot. Repeated the process. “Better?”
“It’s a start.”
“We might both be more relaxed if you weren’t armed.” He released her weapon harness, peeled it off. Laid it on the floor with her boots. “Now?”
“Murder and mayhem,” she reminded him. “You had money and meetings.”
“Quite a bit of both, actually.” He straddled her, drew off the navy V-neck she’d pulled on in the middle of the night. “How would you feel about owning a little town in Tuscany?”
“A town? Come on.”
“A village, actually, and quite charming.” Smiling down at her he unhooked her belt. “An old ramshackle villa that could be a showpiece with the right touches. Lovely views, narrow cobbled streets, the remains of a medieval wall.”
“You bought a town.”
“Tomorrow I will.” He drew her trousers down, down, off. “My wife has such long, amazing legs.”
“They help me get from point A to point B.”
He ran his hands up them, calf to thigh. “You’re not going anywhere at the moment.”
The diamond he’d given her when she’d accepted he loved her hung around her neck, resting on her simple white tank. He lifted it, rubbed his fingers over the teardrop shape of it, remembering how shocked she’d been by the gift—the diamond, and the love.
“More relaxed now?”
“I’m getting there. When I drove home I thought what I need is a really big glass of wine. Then I got here and I thought, No, what I need is to fall on my face for ten minutes. But that wasn’t quite it, either.”
“What was?”
“What I needed—what I need—” She pushed up, wrapped her arms around him. “Is you.”
Those long, amazing legs hooked around his waist. Her hands slid up, gripped his hair. Holding on, he thought, to him, to them, to what they made.
All warmth and welcome, all strong and real.
He could shed his day as she shed hers, mouth to mouth, heart to heart.
They swayed there on the big bed, holding on, sliding into what was for both of them home.
He pressed his lips to her throat, to the pulse that beat for him. “I missed our time this morning, just that bit of time over coffee and breakfast.”
“I know. Me, too.”
“It makes it all the more precious.” His lips brushed her cheekbone, her temple. “Those times, these times.”
She burrowed into him. “Every time.”
She lay with him, gentle strokes and long, soft kisses that washed away the hours between. Just him, just them for