Pleasant. That was the word that drifted through her mind. So pleasant, there seemed to be no need for caution, for defenses. It was a pity, she reflected, that they weren’t driving aimlessly….

Strange, she’d never chosen to do anything aimlessly. And yet, tonight, to drive…along a long, deserted beach—with the moon full, shining off the water, and the sand white. You’d be able to hear the surf ebb and flow, and see the hundreds of stars you so rarely noticed in the city. You’d smell the salt and feel the spray. The moist, warm air would flow over your skin.

She felt the car swing off the road, then purr to a stop. For an extra moment, Summer held on to the fantasy.

“What’re you thinking?”

“About the beach,” she answered. “Stars.” She caught herself, surprised that she’d indulged in what could only be termed romanticism. “I’ll take the pizza,” she said, straightening. “You can bring the champagne.”

He put a hand on her arm, lightly but it stopped her. Slowly he ran a finger down it. “You like the beach?”

“I never really thought about it.” At the moment, she found she’d like nothing better than to rest her head against his shoulder and watch waves surge against the shore. Star counting. Why should she want to indulge in something so foolish now when she never had before? “For some reason, it just seemed like the night for it.” And she wondered if she were answering his question or her own.

“Since there’s no beach, we’ll just have to come up with something else. How’s your imagination?”

“Good enough.” Quite good enough, Summer thought, to see where she’d end up if she didn’t change the mood—hers as well as his. “And at the moment, I imagine the pizza’s getting cold, and the champagne warm.” Opening the door, she climbed out with the box in hand. Once inside the building, Summer started up the stairs.

“Does the elevator ever work?” Blake shifted the bag in his arm and joined her.

“Off and on—mostly it’s off. Personally, I don’t trust it.”

“In that case, why’d you pick the fourth floor?”

She smiled as they rounded the second landing. “I like the view—and the fact that salesmen are usually discouraged when they’re faced with more than two flights of steps.”

“You could’ve chosen a more modern building, with a view, a security system and a working elevator.”

“I look at modern tools as essential, a new car, well tuned, as imperative.” Drawing out her keys, Summer jiggled them lightly as they approached her door. “As to living arrangements, I’m a bit more open-minded. My flat in Paris has temperamental plumbing and the most exquisite cornices I’ve ever seen.”

When she opened the door, the scent of roses was overwhelming. There were a dozen white in a straw basket, a dozen red in a Sevres vase, a dozen yellow in a pottery jug and a dozen pink in Venetian glass.

“Run into a special at the florist’s?”