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Amazingly the poppies blurred. He swiped angrily at his eyes and jerked his gaze over to the stove.
She was doing her sparrow in a glass box routine again. The sight brought a bittersweet smile to his lips.
She turned around suddenly. Bustling to the table, she swept up their plates and hurried back to the stove. In an instant their plates were piled high with food.
He stared down into his plate, and as he did the full impact of what was happening hit him all over again. Sweet Christ, she'd cooked all his favorite foods. Every goddamn one of; them.
The condemned man's last meal. "Cornelius? Is something wrong? I thought you'd be pleased ..."
He lifted his head slowly to look at her. "Nothing's wrong. It's a wonderful meal. All my favorites."
She beamed. "Good."
She started eating, counterclockwise, one food item at a time. He stared at her a long time, feeling a hollowness spread through his chest. Then, reluctantly, he began to eat. Even the roasted bear meat in chutney tasted like ashes on his tongue.
After dinner, as they stood side by side washing the dinner dishes, Devon tried to study him covertly. She couldn't see his face, but when their bodies brushed she could feel the tension in his arms.
Around them the air seemed charged with undercurrents of disaster. She had to clench her fists constantly to still the trembling of her fingers.
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"Shall I make some hot cocoa?" she said in as bright a voice as she could muster.
"No. I don't want chocolate."
"But I'd planned-"
"I don't give a good goddamn for your plans, Dev." He threw down the soggy dishtowel and swept her into his arms. "IVe got plans of my own for tonight-and they don't include listening to your logical babble. Not tonight."
"Logical babb-"
He silenced her with a kiss that left her breathless and trembling. "Now," he drawled against her moist, parted lips, "would you like to hear my plans for this evening?"
A wave of desire washed through her body, chasing her calm, rational thoughts into the dark corners of her mind. She could ask him later. . . .
"I believe I'd rather feel them," she murmured back, arching into him.
She thought she heard a muffled"Thank God" as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.
They undressed each other eagerly. Naked, they came together like new lovers, with a pent-up passion that left them both reeling.
Afterward they lay twined in each other's arms. For the first time all evening Cornelius allowed himself to relax. He was safe for tonight. He knew Devon well enough to know that if she'd planned on saying good-bye tonight she couldn't have made love first. When her mind was on something there was no getting through to her body.
Devon felt his skin against every hot, sweaty inch of hers, and she reveled in the feel of it. The smell of his body, as familiar now as the smell of her own, filtered to her nostrils. They were so perfectly matched, so right. How could he not see it, how could he not feel it?
He had to, she told herself.
She chewed nervously on her lower lip. It was time to find out. Her first instinct was, of course, to blurt out the question burning in her mind. She refrained, reminding herself of her plan to go slowly, to start with a few innocuous, leading questions.
She laid her cheek on the soft, slightly damp mat of hair on his chest. Her forefinger trailed lazily through the black hairs, her touch slow and feather soft.
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"You know, Cornelius-"
Laughter rumbled in his chest. She halted, peering up at him. He was smiling broadly.
She frowned. "What are you laughing about?"
