She heard him coming up the path, but unlike her, he wasn’t breathing hard. She shut her eyes. If she opened them, she’d just see what she already knew, that he’d stripped down to a pair of navy blue boxers before his first dive. It was painful to look at him—all those ripples, planes, and smooth long muscles. She’d been terrified—hopeful?—the boxers would come off in the dive, but he’d somehow managed to keep them on.

She reined in her imagination. This was exactly the kind of fantasizing that had gotten her in such terrible trouble. And maybe it was time she reminded herself that Kevin hadn’t exactly been the most memorable lover. In point of fact, he’d been a dud.

That wasn’t fair. He’d been operating under a double disadvantage. He’d been sound asleep, and he wasn’t attracted to her.

Some things hadn’t changed. Although he seemed to have worked past his contempt for her, he hadn’t sent out any signals that he found her sexually irresistible—or even remotely appealing.

The fact that she could think about sex was upsetting but also encouraging. The first crocus seemed to have popped up in the dark winter of her soul.

He flopped down next to her and stretched out on his back. She smelled heat, lake, and devil man.

“No more somersaults, Molly. I mean it. You were too close to the rocks.”

“I only did one, and I knew exactly where the edge was.”

“You heard me.”

“Jeez, you sound like Dan.”

“I’m not even going to think about what he’d say if he saw you do that.”

They lay there for a while in silence that was surprisingly companionable. Every one of her muscles felt achy but relaxed.

Daphne lay sunning herself on a rock when Benny came racing up the path. He was crying.

“What’s the matter, Benny?”

“Nothing. Go away!”

Her eyes flicked open. It had been nearly four months since Daphne and Benny had held an imaginary conversation in her head. Probably just a fluke. She rolled toward Kevin. Although she didn’t want to ruin the good time they’d been having, he needed help dealing with Lilly just as she needed help dealing with the loss of Sarah.

His eyes were closed. She noticed that his lashes were darker than his hair, which was already drying at the temples. She rested her chin on her hand. “Did you always know that Lilly was your birth mother?”

He didn’t open his eyes. “My parents told me when I was six.”

“They did the right thing not trying to keep it a secret.” She waited, but he didn’t say anything more. “She must have been very young. She hardly looks forty now.”

“She’s fifty.”

“Wow.”

“She’s a Hollywood type. A ton of plastic surgery.”