God help us! Then all prayer was lost as Cole swept her from the water before she drowned them both. Somehow they made it to his room, clothes in hand. He dropped his gun in a drawer and their clothes on the floor. He couldn’t think past the woman on his bed and the fever in his brain.

*  *  *

He headed toward the kitchen, following the sound of voices. His shower-damp hair was nearly black against his neck as tiny droplets of water he’d forgotten to dry ran in neat little paths down his clean, dry T-shirt. Long legs wearing denim made giant strides toward her voice. He tried to mask the burst of pleasure that shot through him when he walked into the room. Then gave it up as a lost cause when she turned, spatula in one hand, platter of pancakes in the other, and smiled.

Morgan glanced up from the article he’d been reading in the morning paper.

“Morning, son,” he muttered, and started to resume his reading when the look on Cole’s face registered. He crumpled the paper in his lap and stared.

Buddy was sopping the last of his pancakes through a pool of syrup. He spoke around the bite.

“Hi, Cole.” He chewed.

Cole walked past them, took the plate and spatula out of Debbie’s hands, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Good morning, lady,” he whispered against her ear. “I thought I’d lost you.” He was referring to the fact that he’d awakened alone.

“Fat chance.” She grinned and turned her face up for the kiss she saw coming.

Morgan gaped. Buddy dropped his fork. Syrup splattered onto his shirt, the table, and the butter dish. He stared openmouthed and then grinned. As if to celebrate what he saw, he swiped his fingers across a droplet of syrup and then licked his finger shiny clean before going on to the next splash.

Morgan rolled his eyes and then tried to glare at the fact that he had a grown son who was licking syrup off the table.

“Mother always said, ‘Waste not, want not.’ Remember?” Buddy remarked.

“She also said you were a pig,” Cole reminded him as he reluctantly turned Debbie loose.

“How many do you want?” she asked, indicating the remaining pancake batter waiting for her to turn it into golden orbs with crisp, lacy edges.

“How many can you spare?” he teased, and bent down and stole one more kiss before she shooed him to the table with her spatula.

“Well!” Morgan finally managed to say. “It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep will do for a man.”

Cole grinned but declined to comment. Debbie blushed lightly, but kept her chin tilted at a proud, nearly defiant angle. There was no shame in her heart. Only joy.