He sprang out of bed—it was freezing; the architects of the rental house hadn’t considered the preservation of heat in their design—and began the usual morning hunt for clothing. Pants he discovered over a chair, underneath a half-built prototype of a rather ingenious new device for measuring infinitesimal changes in sound. What if, his reasoning went, ghosts could talk, but they did so very, very quietly? Socks were under the bed, undershirt on the bottom-left bedpost, and, most confusingly, shirts were in a neatly folded pile in the armoire.

Also a mystery: Why had Alva (because he couldn’t stop calling her by her first name, even if he knew he should) changed her mind?

He’d hoped she would, of course. He’d even been fairly confident about it—surely no one could withstand such a tantalizingly intriguing question for long. But he’d bungled things with that kiss, and he’d thought it would take bit longer to coax her back.

The kiss. He’d rushed it—he’d rushed her—and he didn’t know why. Sam was hardly unfamiliar with the fairer sex. He liked women enormously, both as people and as lovers, but mostly, they came to him. They indicated their interest, they set the terms of the engagement, and when the time came for them to part there were no tears and no recriminations. It occurred to him that he mostly associated with the same kind of woman: they were usually a little older, experienced, and the only thing they wanted from him …

He frowned. If he thought about it, he supposed the only thing they wanted from him was to have relations with a famous inventor. And he liked them because they made it easy. It wasn’t the most flattering thing to realize about yourself, but Sam’s priorities had always been his family, followed by his work. There wasn’t much left over for other people.

He didn’t pursue. He didn’t push. He didn’t rush. But with Alva Webster, he’d done all three.

And he was having trouble regretting it. She had tasted of strength and passion, of meticulously banked fire and fury, and when he remembered holding her all he wanted to do was find out what would happen if she decided she trusted him enough to release it. There may also have been the odd fantasy about wooden fences.