“You want to take a nap with me?” A nap was something on Maggie’s list of Things Other People with Free Time Do. Like go to the spa or plan meals.

“No Bonus Day is complete without a nap,” he insisted, pulling back the covers with a flourish.

She had gone skinny-dipping, jumped off a cliff, climaxed under a waterfall, and gone on a home furnishings shopping spree. Why not add a nap to the day?

“We’re not getting in that bed in these clothes,” she said, gesturing at her dirt-streaked shorts and shirt.

He gave her that slow, wolfish smile, and her heart said, Uh-oh.

His shirt hit the floor, followed swiftly by his shorts.

She had no choice really but to follow suit.

It wasn’t a bad way to spend a day, she thought as Silas pulled her up against him. His chest and thighs cradling her while his arm anchored her to him. Hot skin, hard muscle, and the crisp coolness of fresh sheets. He’d left the balcony doors open, and the warm breeze billowed the sheer curtains into the room like ghosts returning home.

An hour later, after she’d rolled over and onto Silas to sleepily demand more, and after she’d fallen asleep again, Maggie awoke with a start. She lay still for a long moment, trying to determine what had pulled her back to the surface.

The house was quiet. Well, as quiet as a 150-year-old mansion got. The kittens had found their way onto the bed and were curled up on Silas. One on his feet and one on his hip. Whatever had woken her, this was a picture that needed taking.

She managed to reach her phone on the new and convenient nightstand without breaking Sy’s hold on her. Settling back against him, she snapped a midsiesta selfie of woman, man, and cats. She looked amused and disheveled. Silas, on the other hand, looked like a sleeping god. His hair was tousled. One honey-blond curl fell over his forehead. His lashes formed long, inky lines over closed eyes. Those perfect lips were partially puckered as he breathed slow and deep.

His arm was heavy, draped over her waist, hand cupping one breast. Even unconscious, Silas Wright was a boob man.

No matter what happened, she knew she’d hold on to this day, this memory, this moment in time. Nothing on her to-do list would have been this satisfying to complete, and she wondered if that had been his point.

She could work any day. Every day. But would she remember those days like she’d remember today? Would she treasure those days the way she would this?

How odd that so many of her favorite memories from childhood and adulthood had happened right here in Kinship.