If she wanted cookies, she would have them. And, with a grin on her face and a gleam in her eye, she began to drag out ingredients. She slopped flour, scattered sugar on the counter. And mixed with abandon. There was no one to see her lick dough from her fingers. No one to gently remind her that she should tidy up between each step of the process.

She made an unholy mess.

Dancing with impatience, she waited for the first batch to bake. “Come on, come on. I’ve got to have one.” The minute the buzzer went off, she grabbed the cookie sheet, dropped it on the top of the stove, then scooped up the first cookie with a spatula. She blew on it, slipped it off and tossed it from hand to hand. Still she burned her tongue on hot, gleaming chocolate as she bit in. And, rolling her eyes dramatically, she swallowed with a hedonistic groan.

“Good job. Really good job. More.”

She ate a dozen before the second batch was baked.

It felt decadent, childish. And wonderful.

When the phone rang, she popped the next batch in, and lifted the receiver with doughy fingers. “Hello?”

“Rowan. Good morning.”

For a moment the voice meant nothing to her; then, with a guilty start, she realized it was Alan. “Good morning.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, no. I’ve been up quite a while. I’m …” She grinned and chose another cookie. “Just having breakfast.”

“Glad to hear it. You tend to skip too many meals.”

She put the whole cookie into her mouth and talked around it. “Not this time. Maybe the mountain air”—she managed to swallow—“stimulates my appetite.”

“You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Really?” I’m not myself, she wanted to say. I’m better. And I’m not nearly finished yet.

“You sound a little giddy. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m wonderful.” How could she explain to this solid and serious man with his solid and serious voice that she’d been dancing in the kitchen eating cookies, that she’d spent the evening with a wolf, that she’d had erotic dreams about a man she barely knew?

And that she wouldn’t change a moment of any of those experiences.

“I’m getting lots of reading done,” she said instead. “Taking long walks. I’ve been doing some sketching, too. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy it. It’s a gorgeous morning. The sky’s unbelievably blue.”

“I checked the weather for your area last night. There were reports of a severe thunderstorm. I tried to call, but your lines were out.”

“Yes, we had a storm. That’s probably why it’s so spectacular this morning.”

“I was worried, Rowan. If I hadn’t been able to reach you this morning, I was going to fly to Portland and rent a car.”