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“I hope I didn’t snore.”
“You didn’t. In fact, except for an occasional murmur, you were out cold.” Lane’s humor vanished. “I got the feeling it was the first decent sleep you’ve had in weeks.”
“It was.” Morgan saw his concern, recognized its basis, and nipped it in the bud. “Lane, please, let’s not go there—not tonight. For tonight…”
“For tonight, there’s just indulgence, spontaneity, and pleasure.”
“Is that okay?”
“It’s better than okay. It’s essential.” Lane brought a lock of her hair to his lips.
“Speaking of tonight…” Morgan peered around, looking for a clock and not spotting one. “There’s not much of it left, is there?”
“No. But we’ll make the most of what there is.”
“Do you happen to know what time it is?”
“More or less. I glanced at the kitchen clock when I left with our dessert. It was just after three. It must be three-thirty by now. Perfect time for our next indulgence.” Lane rolled to his opposite side, reaching over and plucking the two goblets of wine off the tray. He handed one to Morgan, following it with her plate of cheesecake and a fork. “Dig in.”
She did, savoring the creamy mouthfuls and smiling as she watched Lane scarf down his first hunk of chocolate cake. “You really were hungry.”
“I worked up an appetite.”
“Enough for two hunks of that cake?”
“Nope. Just one.” He used his thumb to wipe a bit of cheesecake off her lower lip. “But I’m hoping for an encore workout session—one that’s just as consuming as the last, but even more creative.”
“Are you now?” Grinning, Morgan licked her fork. “I’m impressed. You either have enormous stamina or a hugely overinflated ego.”
“I’ll let you be the judge. But first, let’s finish our dessert.” He raised his goblet. “Shall I make the toast?”
“Please do.”
He tipped the glass in her direction. “Here’s to similarities and differences. Here’s to exploring every adventure life has to offer. And here’s to being all we can be.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
They clinked glasses, and Morgan took a slow, appreciative sip. Sauvignon Blanc—the perfect complement to cheesecake.
She glanced from the half-eaten cake to the rapidly disappearing wine to the heated gleam in Lane’s eyes.
Dessert was nearing an end. The sparks between them were already crackling to life.
She could say no, get out while she still had a fighting chance.
Problem was, she didn’t want to.
CONFIDENT THAT THE street was deserted, the intruder stepped outside the brownstone, the necessary implements clutched in his gloved hands.
Things had gone like clockwork. He’d followed orders, and even added a few touches of his own. The fact that the place had no burglar-alarm system had afforded him the time and the freedom to do that. No sirens, silent or otherwise, to alert the cops. No motion detectors to pick him off.
He inserted his wrench in the lock and twisted clockwise. Then he manipulated the pick until all the pins were in place, and with a twist of his wrist, the bolt reengaged into the jamb.
Job done. Everything was as it had been when he arrived.
Or so it seemed from the outside.
AN ICY DAWN was about to make its presence known when Morgan fished out her keys and scurried up to her front door.
