There was no flash, no sudden storm of speed and desperation. They rose together, sweetly, gently, exquisitely. She could have wept from the beauty of it, but only smiled as his mouth touched hers.

They lay together comfortably, stretching out the moment a bit longer. The early-evening sunlight was quiet. If it hadn’t been for obligations, they’d have stayed just so until the morning.

“I missed you.”

Surprised, Brie tilted her head on his shoulder so that she could see his profile. “Did you?”

“I’ve hardly seen you today.” He didn’t feel as foolish saying it as he had felt thinking it. Smiling a little, he stroked her hair.

“I thought you might come up to the ballroom.”

“I came by a couple of times. You were busy.” And safe, he added to himself. Three of the workmen had carried guns under their vests.

“Tomorrow will be worse.” Content, she snuggled against him. “It’ll take hours to set up the flowers alone. Then there’s the wine and liquor, the musicians, the food. The people.”

She fell silent. Unconsciously he drew her closer. “Nervous.”

“A little. There will be so many faces, so many names. I wonder …”

“What?”

“I know just how important this ball is for the AHC and for Cordina. But I wonder if I can pull it off.”

“You’ve done more than anyone can expect already.” And he resented it. “Just relax and take it as it comes. Do what feels right for you, Brie.”

She didn’t speak for a moment, then plunged. “I have already.” She shifted so that she could look at him directly. “I told Christina Hamilton everything.”

He started to speak, then stopped himself. She was waiting, he could see, for criticism, impatience, even anger. He saw both the apology and the defiance in her eyes. “Why?” But it was a question, not an accusation. He could almost feel the relief from her.

“I couldn’t lie to her. Maybe I couldn’t remember, but I felt. I really felt something with her, something I needed.” She paused only to make a sound of exasperation. “You’ll think I’m foolish.”

She started to sit up, so he went with her. “No.” To emphasize support, he laid a hand over hers. “Tell me what you felt.”

“I needed to talk to a woman.” She let out a long breath, then looked back at him. Her hair was tumbled, a sensuous mass over creamy shoulders. Her face still held the glow of passion. Yet vulnerability was there. “There are so many men in my life. Kind, concerned, but …” How could she phrase it so he’d understand? She couldn’t. “I just needed to talk to a woman.”

Of course she did. Reeve brought her hand to his lips. Why hadn’t any of them seen it? Father, brother, doctor … lover. But she’d had no one to give her the kind of support, the kind of empathy only those of the same sex can give one another. “Did it help?”