She walked around the kitchen island and put her hand over his on the counter. He nearly jumped out of his skin, and told himself it was just because the move had been unexpected. Not because it sent an electric jolt through him, like touching a live wire.

“That’s wonderful. I’m glad.”

He risked a glance at her then. For some reason, perhaps the absence of the sun on these December days, the vision that flashed through his head was the very first time he’d seen her. As had happened a few more times after that, he’d been keeping Greg company as he waited for a ride after a shift. But that time it had been a brilliantly clear, what they called a severe clear, summer day, when she’d gotten out of Greg’s prized Camaro and stepped into the sunlight, and the hair that had looked merely brown inside the car was suddenly a glorious blend of brown, red and gold.

And then she had started toward where they were standing outside the station. Moving with that easy, supple, and ultra-feminine grace, dressed in snug jeans, a simple white sleeveless blouse, her slender, small feet in strappy white sandals that had him wondering why he’d never noticed how pretty feet could be before. And whatever Adam had been saying died in his throat.

“You’re allowed to notice how beautiful she is,” Greg had said. And Adam hadn’t been sure that time if that sudden glint in his partner’s eyes had been amusement or warning.

“I... She is.”

“Yes.”

“She is what?” Amanda had asked cheerfully as she reached them. After, Adam had noticed, a glance around to make sure she was the only she in sight.

“You,” Greg said teasingly as he hugged her.

“The youest you?” she asked with a loving note in her voice that warmed Adam. He knew they were close, since her mother had died when she was so young, but it was something to see it up close.

“That ever was or ever will be,” Greg had answered, finishing what was obviously a familiar exchange to the both of them. And then Greg had introduced them, and Adam had stumbled through some awkward greeting and—

Amanda again snapped him out of a reverie. “Where did you just go?”

“I...was just remembering. The first time I met you.”

She smiled, and there was a touch of sadness in it. Of course. “I remember that, too. I was upset with my father for telling me all about how smart and quick you were, what a good cop you were going to be, but failing to mention how good-looking you were.”

He blinked. Opened his mouth, then shut it again, figuring saying nothing was better than saying something stupid, which was all that came to mind. He was glad—at first—when she kept going.