She’d always thought that “worshipping” with bodies was a silly, trite phrase in old-fashioned wedding vows. But not anymore. She’d seen it with her own eyes. Diesel loved her. She’d wanted it to be true for her, too. It would be true, someday. She was already a little of the way there.

But one step at a time. She was here. In his bed. Her body was deliciously sore in all the right places and she could hear the steady thumping of his heart against her good ear. She brushed her fingertips over the tattoo that started at his heart, covered his right pectoral, then wandered over his shoulder and down his arm.

At first glance it looked like a beautiful, swirling design that existed simply for its artistic merit alone. But now that she studied it up close, she could see that it was a combination of a number of designs, each one flowing into the next.

She lifted her head to kiss the Star of David over his heart. “Tell me about this.”

His chest rose, then fell as he took a deep breath. “It’s for my mother.”

Oh. “Is she . . .” Dani hesitated. “Is she still alive?”

“No. She died when I was fourteen. Car accident.”

She kissed the tattoo again. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. She was . . . nice.” He said nice with more than his usual gruffness.

Nice. There was so much left unsaid in that one little word. She’d come back to it later. They had time. She traced her finger from the memorial to his mother to the interconnecting designs on his pectoral. They were blocks from the periodic table, she realized with delight. Five of them—Dy, S, O, and N—surrounded by test tubes, beakers, an atom, and a molecule. “Who is Dyson?”

His lips curved and she relaxed. Clearly this was a better memory. “My high school chemistry teacher.”

“Is he still alive?”

“Yes. He’s one of the best men I know. I didn’t know men could be kind until I met Walt.”

Think of it as a mugging. Oh God, Diesel. Who hurt you? Her heart ached, but he was smiling now, so she smiled, too.

“Do you still see him?”

“Yep. At least once a year. Every New Year’s Day, I head back to Pennsylvania to visit him. The next day, I drop my backup drive into my safe deposit box. I’ve been doing that for a while now.”

“Your backup drives. Do they have evidence of your . . . investigations?”

He lifted one brow, raising his head to look her in the eye. “I keep forgetting how smart you are.”

She gave him a wry look. “Flattery will get you everywhere, but I’m smart enough to know when you’re changing the subject. I’ll consider your answer a yes.” She slid across his chest so that she could see the tats on his right shoulder.