She thought she might bubble over with happiness. She had everything she’d ever wanted. And it was going to get better. Every year with Dave would be better than the one before.

She felt his heart beating against hers and was overwhelmed with emotion. Mine, she thought. My husband, my lover, the father of my children. It was exciting. Her whole life was expanding before her very eyes. She was going to continue her music, but she was going to find time for other things as well. She might never learn to actually bake a cake, but she was going to learn to throw a football. She might get a dog, she decided, so the kittens would have something to torment. She’d definitely have a baby. She wanted a house that was filled with noisy love and activity. She could buy houseplants now because Dave would remember to water them.

And she was going to get sexy underwear… maybe a garter belt. After all, she would be young only once, she told herself. Live it up.

She ran her hand along the curve of Dave’s neck. “Is that crayon still on the nightstand?”

“You mean the crayon we use to record your toe exercises?”

Kate’s fingers found their way down to his waist, popped the snap on his jeans, and wiggled their way through layers of clothing until they found smooth skin. She smiled when she felt his stomach muscles tense, heard the quick intake of breath. “I have an urge to… do toe exercises,” she said, letting her finger stray lower and lower.

Dave was breathless. “If that finger goes a half an inch farther south, you’re going to be doing toe exercises on the kitchen floor.”

Kate pulled away in mock horror. “Not in front of the kittens!”

He grabbed her and carried her out of the kitchen, up the stairs to the bedroom.

Kate held tight to his neck. “Are you being romantic or are you being nice to my injured leg?”

“Neither. I’m getting you into bed in the fastest way possible.”

Later that afternoon Dave studied what was left of the crayon. “Look at this poor thing,” he said. “It’s worn down to practically nothing.”

Kate studied the new marks on her cast and smiled in contentment. “We need a fresh crayon.”

“They’re all in my house… on the third floor.”

Kate propped herself up on one elbow. “I’ve never seen your third floor. You always keep that door locked. Just exactly what have you got up there?”

Dave toyed with a red curl that curved around Kate’s earlobe. “It’s sort of a… studio.”

Her curiosity was aroused. “What kind of studio?”

Good question. He didn’t know what kind of studio. It was a little bit of everything. It was his junk drawer. But it had its serious side, too.