Before they entered the house, Gordon stopped and turned to face her. He cupped her head in his hands and let his gaze sweep her face, his eyes bemused and a soft smile on his face.

“I just want to look at you for a moment,” he said in a low voice. “You’re really here. I’ve imagined being here with you so many times, I have to take a moment to let it sink in.”

“I know,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I don’t quite know if I can believe it’s really you and not my screen.”

His lips moved to a quick smile in response; then his gaze kindled. His smile drifted away. Slowly, with intention, Gordon lowered his head to hers. Linnea closed her eyes and tilted her head in welcome. His lips touched hers, gently at first, tasting her. They pulled back slowly and looked at each other, each knowing that the spark was still there. They’d always had this spontaneous combustion, from their first kiss.

Her arms clung to his neck as she pressed herself against him. She relished the feel of him, his arms around her. She hadn’t had sex in so long she’d worried how it would be. But there was no worry now. No negotiation of terms or thoughts of what this all might mean. There was only a thumping, beating, primeval drive. An urgent, pressing message of want and longing.

Still clinging together, lips pressed, they somehow managed to open the door to her bedroom and stumble across the room, clothes falling to the floor en route. With a soft growl in Gordon’s throat and a giggle in hers, they collapsed together on the bed.

Which, they both knew, was where they were going to end up.

WHEN LINNEA FINALLY awoke, the dawn song had been replaced by the gentle beat of pop rock music coming from the kitchen. Turning her head, she saw Gordon’s ruddy face lying on the pillow beside hers, his red-gold hair falling in disarray around his head, his mouth open. A soft snore revealed he was still in a deep sleep.

He’d earned his rest, she thought, smiling smugly. She stretched her arms over her head and yawned like a sated kitten. Blinking, awakening more, she noted that the sun was shining brightly through slits in the plantation shutters. She’d definitely missed yoga this morning, she thought with a silent laugh. Carefully pushing back the sheet from her naked body, she stealthily rose from the bed, not wanting to wake him. She slipped into her pink silk kimono and, tying it at the waist, tiptoed from the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Anna and Cooper were sitting at the round wood table in the kitchen, reading the Charleston Post and Courier, doing their usual duet of spooning granola into their mouths. Cooper’s tanned back was curved over the table, his elbows resting there. All he had on were his boxers. Anna was once again wearing Linnea’s lavender kimono, which Linnea figured was hers now since she’d never returned it. It didn’t look like she was wearing anything beneath hers either. Linnea followed the scent of coffee to find a mug and pour herself a cup.