No words, still no words.

Watching him, her breath coming on quick little sighs, she ran her hands up her body, gliding them over her breasts until he could taste them, he swore he could taste them, then down again. Then onto his.

She shifted, bowed down to take his mouth with hers. He felt her shudder, heard her quick gasp as she rolled over the next wave.

The sound, just that small sound snapped his restraint.

“I can’t. I need—”

He whipped her onto her back, hiked up her hips. Undone, simply undone, he drove himself into her, half-mad when those long legs wrapped around him.

This time, the force of the tide swept them both under.

She lay limp, mildly concerned her heart might beat itself right out of her chest.

“Let’s just stay here a minute,” she suggested. “Or an hour. Maybe a day, until our vital signs level off again.”

“What? Did you say something? I can’t hear with the blood still pounding in my ears.”

“That’s not where it was pounding a minute ago.”

He laughed, snickered, laughed again. Then lifted his head and grinned down at her. “You wrecked me.”

“That was the plan. I’m not usually a fan of a rainy Saturday, but this one started off really well.”

“Good thing for me because I’m going to be spending the rest of it dealing with two kids and a dog on a rainy Saturday.” He lowered his head again to nuzzle her neck. “This should give me the strength to get through it.”

“And you’ll bring them to dinner tomorrow?”

“They’re looking forward to it. Mo’s picked out an outfit. Of course, she picks out an outfit to eat a sandwich.”

“I like her style.”

“She’s got plenty of it. Lorilee used to say she studied and critiqued the pages of Vogue in utero.”

He caught himself, wondered if lying naked with Adrian was the best time to mention his dead wife.

“Anyway … Okay if I grab a shower?”

“Sure. I’ll go down, let the dogs out, and I need to put a little breakfast together.”

“You need to?”

“Yes, I do. After that workout, I’m starving.”

While he showered, he wondered what he should do about what was happening to him. If he should do anything. How he should do it, if anything.

He’d meant what he’d told her the night before. He hadn’t known he could feel this way again. But he did.

Holding up his hand, he studied his wedding ring. He’d worn it so long it felt like part of him. But was it fair, was it right, to wear it when he was sleeping with another woman?

When he was clearly in love with another woman?

It wasn’t just sex. Maybe he’d half convinced himself it could be, would be, but he knew himself better than that.

What had she said that day—the day she’d brought the damn free weights? Love wasn’t always about sex, sex wasn’t always about love.

True, absolutely. But when it hit both, it was miraculous. He knew it because he’d had two miracles in his life.

But … he didn’t know how she felt. Cared about him, sure, liked him a lot, sure. Added to it, he came with a package deal.

Two kids and a dog, he thought again.

A lot of people didn’t want to take on a package.

He could ask her how she felt, what she felt. Generally, he preferred the direct way. But—one more but—was it fair or right to push there when she had real and serious problems?

Some crazy stalker was threatening her.

She didn’t need pressure from him when she already had more pressure than anyone should deal with.

One thing at a time, he told himself as he toweled off.

He’d help her get through the problem, as much as he could. Spend time with her when he could. Have his kids spend time with her as much as she was willing.

Then he’d see what came next.

When he went down, she had the dogs eating kibble from side-by-side bowls.

“Perfect timing. Do you know how to use the coffee machine? I’ll just put these together.”

“First, what are ‘these’?”

“You’re having a poached egg on a whole wheat bagel with tomato and spinach, and a side of Greek yogurt with berries and granola. It has it all.”

“Okay. That actually sounds not scary. I can make you coffee, but I’d rather one of the Cokes I saw in your fridge. That’s my usual morning caffeine.”

“Really?” She stopped what she was doing to stare at him. She’d automatically made him coffee on Saturday mornings because she’d assumed he’d want it. “That’s my favorite thing. A cold Coke in the morning. I let myself have it maybe once a week.”

“Why once a week?”

“For many reasons, but I’ll have what you’re having.”

She plated the food.

“I’d make this for my grandfather—if I beat him to the kitchen first. He usually went with cold cereal during the week, but weekends, he’d get down here, and it would be pancakes, French toast, bacon, and more bacon.”

“Bacon is the god of all foods.”

He sat with her, took a bite of the healthy alternative. “But this is great. I wouldn’t have put the combo together. I can try this on the kids—with scrambled eggs.”

“You can’t poach an egg?”

“No clue, but an eight-year-old boy eating one with his little sister? It would be: Hey, look, Mo, it’s an eyeball! Then he’d stab, stab. Ooooh, gak, gak, it bleeds yellow. And she would never eat an egg again.”

“I can see you know this because you have a sister, and did similar disgusting things.”

“It was my job, and Wells men take their jobs seriously.”

“And to think I used to wish for a sibling. Which, come to think of it …”

He put a hand on her arm. “Don’t. Don’t think about it.”

“Don’t worry. I have enough to do today to keep my brain otherwise occupied. Work out, followed by doing my weekend domestic chores, followed by taking another look at Hector’s rough cut of the high school video. Then I have to start working on the content of my next solo.”

He knew how to keep her brain otherwise occupied now. “How do you figure it? The content?”

“You’ve got to mix it up. People get bored doing the same routines. They may go back to an old favorite, but they want something a little different to try. I’ve got to keep up with what’s current, what’s safe, what’s good for beginners, what works for the more experienced. And you’ve got to add some fun in there. Some challenge, too. It’s like a healthy breakfast. It gets boring if it’s all granola and quinoa.”

She smiled as he ate the last bite. “Want another?”

“No, thanks. But that was a surprise. You should do a cookbook.”

She jabbed his shoulder with a finger. “That’s what I told my mother. I’m just starting to play with the idea.”

“You’d be good at it.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll get the dishes. I expect to ward off some of the rainy Saturday sorrows by telling the kids about the beach. There will be cheers and celebrations,” he said as he started loading the dishes into the dishwasher. “Then Mariah will announce she needs new beach clothes.”