But this time her mouth was enough. He let himself linger, and savor and possess, drawing away gently, and with the promise of more.

His hands wanted to shake. To soothe them, he skimmed them over her face and into her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, making her, to his eye, even lovelier. How could he have forgotten how slim she was, like a willow, or how much truth and beauty could shine from her eyes.

His hand paused in her hair, and his brows drew together as image shifted over image.

“Your hair was longer then, and your cheeks were wet from rain.”

Her head was spinning, actually spinning. She had always believed that was a ridiculous romantic cliché. But she had to put a hand to her temple to steady herself. “What?”

“Another time we met here.” He smiled again. It was easy for him to accept such things as visions and magic, just as he could accept that his heart had been lost long before that first lovely taste of her. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“We haven’t known each other a long time.”

“We have. Shall I do it again, and remind you?”

“I don’t think so.” No matter how foolish it made her feel, she held up a hand to stop him. “That was a little more potent that I’d expected, and I think we’d both be better off . . . pacing ourselves.”

“As long as we’re after getting to the same place.”

She let her hand drop. If she could be sure of anything it was that he wouldn’t press, or make awkward or unwanted moves. Still, she took only an instant to study him, and less to look inside herself.

“I don’t know that we are.”

“It’s enough that one of us knows. I’ve an appointment to keep.” He brushed his fingers down her cheek so that he could take that last touch with him. “I’ll look for you tonight.” He caught the expression on her face before he swung over the wall. “You’re not so faint of heart you’ll make excuses not to come just because you liked kissing me.”

It wasn’t worth the effort to be annoyed that he’d seen she was about to do so. Instead she turned away to pack up her equipment. “I’m not faint of heart. And I’ve liked kissing men before.”

“Sure and you have, Shannon Bodine, but you’ve never kissed the likes of me.”

He went off whistling. She made sure he was out of earshot before she let the laughter loose.

It shouldn’t have felt odd to go on a date—not when a woman had recently turned twenty-eight and had experienced her share of firsts and lasts in the game of singles.

Maybe it had been the way Brianna had fussed—bustling around like a nervous mother on prom night. Shannon could only smile to think on it. Brianna had offered to press a dress, or lend her one, and had twice come up to the loft room with suggestions on accessories and shoes.