She was bemused. “What’s so funny?”

“This is.” He was doubled over, gasping for air between laughs. “Best night ever.”

“Best night ever?”

“Yes. I guess you could say the earth moved.”

It was a relief to see him laughing, even though this wasn’t quite the entertainment she’d had in mind. “So much for seduction.” She started to laugh, too, which was strange because mostly she felt like crying. It was as if the cottage was conspiring against her.

Just to add to her woes, the smoke alarm went off, the noise shrieking through the cottage and killing off any last residue of intimacy.

“Oops. I guess that means the duck isn’t okay after all.” Still laughing, Seb launched himself toward the door, wearing only his jeans. He paused in the doorway and held out his hand to her. “Better come with me. If it turns out the cottage is on fire, then we’ll need to evacuate, and if the roof is about to fall in, I don’t want you trapped in the rubble. No way are the emergency services getting an eye full of you in that dress.”

She abandoned the heels, pulled on a pair of flats and a warm sweater and took his hand.

“This was supposed to be the perfect evening. I planned it so carefully.”

“It is the perfect evening. We’re escaping a collapsing, burning building. You’re wearing a short sexy dress like all good movie heroines, and I get to look like an action hero, although I could do with a bit more dirt streaked on my face. This is the most excitement either of us has had in a while.”

And he was more like himself than he’d been for a long time.

She glanced briefly back at their bed, now covered in fragments of the ceiling, and closed the door on the room.

They headed downstairs to the kitchen, and Seb threw open the windows and the back door in an attempt to clear the smoke.

Finally, the alarm stopped screeching, and he cautiously opened the oven. Plumes of smoke emerged, and he slammed the oven door closed again.

“I think the duck is cooked, darling.”

“No kidding.” She flopped down on the nearest kitchen chair. “This has to be the least romantic evening we’ve ever spent.”

“I don’t know.” Seb tried to waft the smoke toward the open window. “That night Holly had croup and we had to rush to the hospital was probably a contender.”

She tried to laugh again, but she couldn’t. They had so little time to sort out their relationship before they had to join the others. Her throat thickened, and tears welled up in her eyes. “I wanted tonight to be perfect. And now it’s all ruined. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.” He opened the window wider and then glanced at her. “Are you crying? Don’t cry!”

“I’m not crying.” She brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. “It’s the smoke making my eyes water. And it is my fault. I’m the one who wanted to move here—” she hiccuped “—and I’m the one who chose duck.” She thought about her mother’s dinner parties. The relaxed atmosphere. The perfect food. Stimulating conversation. No ceilings falling in. No smoke alarms. No guests running through a smoky house. No charred duck.