“Because I don’t like to be herded,” she said, fiercely, then pulled his face down to hers and kissed him, licking the corners of his mouth, nibbling his lower lip. “I don’t like conspiracies—especially when my own family is doing the conspiring.”

“I prefer cooperative efforts, myself, boss-ma’am,” he agreed, then returned the kiss with interest. Her skin tingled at the touch of his tongue; his technique had definitely improved. He pulled away just long enough to ask, “Your safe-sex, or mine?”

“Mine,” she replied, rattling the little plastic packet she pulled out of the pocket of her jeans. “I’m the boss, remember?” She took the upper hand again, pulling him down onto the bed and tumbling after, pulling his shirt off and starting on his jeans. He returned the favor, slipping his hands up under her T-shirt.

After that, things only got better.

She couldn’t help making then-and-now comparisons—but they all came out in favor of “now.” This was a double bed, not a bunk. They didn’t have to worry about being caught by the R.A., or by his or her roommate. He was a better, more considerate lover. So, she hoped, was she … at least she’d learned how to make putting on a condom a sensual experience.

And there was something more, now, that hadn’t been there when they were in college. Something between them, a kind of energy. It wasn’t passion—they’d had plenty of that, before. Probably too much. This was something that carried over into everything; made every touch of a fingertip seem doubly intense.

Whatever it was, it was wonderful.

And even when it was over, when they both collapsed in exhaustion, “it” wasn’t gone.

She listened to his heartbeat slow, with her ear against his chest, and fitted herself into the curve of his arm, trying to sort it all out.

“I suppose this means asking for a Christmas bonus is out of the question,” he said, conversationally.

She started to giggle; she couldn’t help it. “Where the hell did you get this sense of humor?” she demanded. “All of a sudden, you can laugh at yourself—you never did that before!”

He took a deep breath, and let it out, slowly. “I had it all along, I just didn’t think that—hell, I just didn’t think, period.” He ran a finger along the side of her face. “I don’t exactly know, Jennie. Kestrel. Maybe that’s it. I stopped posing with you—or when I do pose, we both know it. Does that seem logical?”

“As logical as anything,” she replied, thoughtfully. “Funny; all of a sudden I feel like I’m living with my skin off.”

He sighed. “So do I,” he replied, slowly, sleepily. “So do I. I—have to confess something though.”

“What, that your good behavior is temporary?”