Eli smiled, remembering Brynne’s unrestrained responses to his touch, first on his lap in a kitchen chair, then in bed. He’d never dreamed she could be that passionate, with her cool, Nordic queen beauty.

But she’d sought him out, hurled her body against his, clawed and clutched and bucked beneath him, only to ride him minutes later, wild in her desire to give and receive pleasure.

He was sated, on a physical level, but tonight, with Brynne, he’d visited other dimensions, places that weren’t places, time out of time.

I love you, Brynne Bailey, he told her silently.

She stirred in her sleep, and the softest of smiles curved her lips.

Eli lay awake until sunrise, and he savored the warmth of Brynne’s presence, the clean, faintly flowering scent of her hair, the slow and even meter of her breathing.

For now, it was enough to be near her.

SOMETHING COLD AND damp pressed against Brynne’s forehead; she opened her eyes and gave a squeak of surprise.

She was face-to-muzzle with Festus.

She laughed, sat up.

Eli’s side of the bed was empty, but the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sizzle of bacon indicated that he’d gone no farther than the kitchen.

Brynne sprang out of bed, realized she was completely naked and dashed for the hook next to the shower stall in her bathroom, where her favorite chenille bathrobe hung.

She pulled it on, tied the belt at her waist and hurried barefoot out of the bedroom and along the corridor to the living room-kitchen area of the apartment.

Eli was back in his clothes, now slightly rumpled, but she knew he’d showered, because his hair was damp and he smelled of her favorite peony-scented body wash.

He stood in front of the stove, frying bacon in her cast-iron skillet.

“Morning,” he said, looking back at her over one shoulder and grinning. “You might want to call in the law—I stole this bacon from downstairs. The eggs, too.”

Without waiting for a reply, he inclined his head toward the refrigerator. “Don’t you eat anything besides yogurt and canned tuna?” He made a disgusted face. “What a combination.”

“The tuna is for Waldo,” she said.

She paused, vaguely alarmed. Festus was present, probably hoping for a bacon rainfall, but there was no sign of her cat.

“Where’s Waldo?” she asked, concerned.

Eli laughed. Shook his head once.

Brynne got the joke and laughed, too, but then she went looking for her feline companion.

She found him seated majestically on the back of the couch, apparently untroubled by Festus’s presence in the apartment, but not quite ready to roll out the red carpet, either.

Satisfied that the animal had not been traumatized, she returned to the kitchen and helped herself to a cup of coffee.