She couldn’t. No, it was more than that, she realized. She wouldn’t. Nothing, no one, would spoil what had happened, not even she herself.

Still, it might be best if he didn’t realize quite yet how completely victorious he’d been. Lee let her eyes close and wrapped the sensation of closeness around her. For the next few days, there was no desk, no typewriter, no phone ringing with more demands. There’d be no self-imposed schedule. For the next few days, she was alone with her lover. Maybe the time had come to pick those wildflowers.

She tilted her head, wanting to look at him, trying not to wake him. Over the week they’d spent in such intimate quarters, she’d never seen him sleep. Every other morning he’d been up, already making coffee. She wanted the luxury of absorbing him when he was unaware.

Lee knew that most people looked more vulnerable in sleep, more innocent, perhaps. Hunter looked just as dangerous, just as compelling, as ever. True, those dark, intense eyes were hidden, but knowing the lids could lift at any moment, and the eyes spear you with that peculiar power, didn’t add innocence to his face, only more mystery.

Lee discovered she didn’t want it to. She was glad he was more dangerous than the other men she’d known. In an odd way, she was glad he was more difficult. She hadn’t fallen in love with the ordinary, the everyday, but with the unique.

Fallen in love. She ran the phrase around in her head, taking it apart and putting it back together again with the caution she was prone to. It triggered a trickle of unease. The phrase itself connoted bruises. Hadn’t Hunter himself warned her to test the ground before she started forward? Even warned, she hadn’t. Even seeing the pit, she hadn’t checked her step. The tumble she’d taken had a soft fall. This time. Lee knew it was all too possible to stumble and be destroyed.

She wasn’t going to think about it. Lee allowed herself the luxury of cuddling closer. She was going to find those wildflowers and enjoy each individual petal. The dream would end soon enough, and she’d be back to the reality of her life. It was, of course, what she wanted. For a while, she lay still, just listening to the silence.

The clever thing to do, she thought lazily, would be to hang their wet clothes out in the sun. Her boots certainly needed drying out, but in the meantime, she had her sneakers. She yawned, thinking she wanted a few moments to write in her journal as well. Hunter’s breathing was slow and even. A smile curved her lips. She could do all that, then come back and wake him. Waking him, in whatever way she chose, was a lover’s privilege.