“Nasturtium,” Banks told him as he reached for the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. “It’s a flower.”

“That’s what Clancey’s name means,” Tad said. “Her whole name is Calanthé,” he added. “It’s Greek. It means pretty flower.”

Banks looked surprised. Clancey flushed.

“It sounds like Clancey with a lisp,” Tad chuckled.

“It suits her,” Banks said after a minute, and his black eyes were quiet and intense as they met hers.

“I’m not pretty,” Clancey said gruffly. She got up abruptly. “Is the tea ready?” she added, nervous. “I’ll take mine back to bed with me, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Brenda said, smiling. “Here. Do you want sugar in it?”

“No, thanks. I like it plain. Tad, ready to go back to bed?”

“You bet!” He looked up at Banks. “Is it okay if Miss Kitty and the kitten stay in my room?”

Banks chuckled. “Sure.”

“I won’t have nightmares if the kitties stay with me, I know I won’t,” he added.

“Just leave the door into the hall cracked. So they can get to their facilities if they need to,” Banks added.

“Facil...facilit...?” Tad was struggling.

“The litter box,” Banks whispered loudly.

“Oh!” Tad chuckled. “Okay. I will. Good night! Sorry I woke everybody up!”

He ran down the hall, with the cats pacing him.

“He’s a good kid,” Banks told Clancey. “You’ve done a great job with him.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ve done my best.”

Brenda patted her on the shoulder. “He really is a good kid. I have to get back to sleep. I don’t have to get up early, but I’ll need to get him some breakfast before he leaves.”

“I can cook,” he said shortly. He studied Clancey. “But those biscuits were pretty good. I haven’t had a biscuit like that since our mother was alive.”

She felt a glow all over. “I could get up and cook you something. If you wanted me to,” she added quickly, in case she sounded too forward.

“I’d like that. If you don’t mind,” he added in a husky, deep tone.

“I’d like that, too, because I can sleep late!” Brenda laughed. “Good night, then. Colt, you’ll turn off the coffeepot...?”

“Sure.”

“Good night!”

They called good-night back, but neither of them moved. Clancey felt as if she were rooted to the floor. Banks was feeling a similar inability to leave the room. He stared down at Clancey with black, glittery eyes in a face wiped clean of all expression. The only sound in Clancey’s ears was the wild, heavy beat of her own heart and her quick, audible breathing.

She was violently aware of her state of dress, or undress. She was barefoot, just wearing sweatpants and a thick T-shirt that was, however, revealing. In fact those glittery black eyes were looking at it now, intently.