“No, Katie,” he said after a long time. “It’s not.”

Kate woke in Johnny’s arms. They both lay on their backs, with the sheets puddled around their hips. She stared up at the planked ceiling, feeling the heavy, unfamiliar weight of his hand between her naked breasts.

Dawn’s pale glow slanted through the open window, collecting in a buttery smear on the hardwood floor. The endless slapping of waves against the pilings echoed the slow and steady beat of her heart.

She didn’t know what she was supposed to do now, how she was supposed to act. From their first kiss, this had been a magical and unexpected gift. They’d made love three times during the night, the last time only a few hours ago. They’d kissed, they’d made omelettes and eaten in front of the fire, they’d talked about their families and their job and their dreams. Johnny had even told a series of extremely stupid jokes.

What they hadn’t talked about was tomorrow, and it was here now, as much a presence between them as the soft sheets and the sound of their breathing.

She was glad she’d waited to make love, even though waiting for the right guy was unfashionable these days. Everything about last night had rocked her world, just as the poets predicted.

But what if Johnny didn’t think she was the right girl? He hadn’t said he loved her—of course he hadn’t—and without those words, how was a woman to put passion in context?

Was she supposed to get dressed and sneak out and pretend it never happened? Or should she go downstairs and make breakfast and pray to God that last night was a beginning and not an ending?

When she felt him stir beside her, she tensed up.

“Morning,” he said in a gravelly voice.

She didn’t know how to play coy or act indifferent. She’d loved him too long to pretend otherwise. What mattered now was that they didn’t just get up and go their separate ways. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

He stroked her upper arm. “Hmmm. I used to be an altar boy.”

It was surprisingly easy to picture him like that, a young, skinny boy, with his hair slicked back from his face with water, walking carefully up the aisle. The image made her giggle. “My mother would love you.”

“Now tell me something about you.”

“I’m a science fiction geekess. Star Wars, Star Trek, Dune. I love them all.”

“I would have pegged you for a romance reader.”

“That, too. Now tell me something that matters. Why did you quit reporting?”