“Sweltering, thank you.”

His dark eyes flicked over hers possessively. “If only sass could keep you warm.”

She chuckled, but her eyes turned serious as she flipped through the magazine. “We’re home for a change. I mean, really home. It seems as if we’ve been hop-skipping everywhere from Washington to Denver for the last couple years.”

“Feel good?”

“I’ve loved it all, but yes, it feels terrific to just be home.” She set down the magazine, giving up all pretense of reading, and snuggled on her side. “I talked to Marina on the phone yesterday.”

Marina managed the largest department store in Cold Creek, one that catered to customers with excellent taste in clothes. Marina and Sonia were old friends. Several years before, they’d talked about Sonia working in the store; after all, before she was married, she’d had those years at the Denver boutique. Sonia had never had the time to commit to a job with Marina. She and Craig had had a home to build-she’d wanted to travel with her husband and knew she worked well at his side. The ranch itself took time…She’d never been idle.

But the idea of setting up a fashion-consulting service in Marina’s store had intrigued her for a long time. The oil boom had increased the number of jobs in Cold Creek, both for men and for women. Women reentering the work force, Marina had told her, felt fashion-nervous. They didn’t want to waste their hard-earned dollars on wardrobe mistakes, but were eager to be appropriately dressed. Sonia would be the perfect adviser, Marina had told her often; she had the flair for clothes, several years of experience and an inimitable way with people.

Wardrobe consultants were nothing new; they had proved successful in larger cities, and Sonia had discussed the job idea with Craig before.

“She wants me to come down there next week,” Sonia started to say.

“No,” Craig said swiftly.

She glanced up at him in surprise. He’d always supported the idea. Actually, no matter how often he teased her about her clothes, she knew he was proud of her taste-particularly if she could show it off in a world full of women.

With his face turned away from her, he flicked out the light, tossed his magazine aside and slid down lower in the sheets, reaching for her. “I didn’t mean to make that sound so harsh,” he said quietly. “I just want to see you take it easy for a while, sweet. Loaf. Play lazy lady.” His hand stroked her cheek, and then slid down to rest around her waist. “You’d be good at consulting work for Marina, Sonia, and of course you can do anything you want to do. But give it a month or two, won’t you?”

“It’s not as if anything has to be decided this week,” she agreed, and yawned helplessly, sleepiness stealing over her like a silken web. She didn’t really object to the thought of a few weeks of doing absolutely nothing for a change. Still, there was a curious note in her voice. She had been so sure Craig would approve of the project, and instead he’d practically jumped in to quash it.

She smelled warm and feminine and soft, snuggling closer to his warmth. Craig’s eyes blinked open in the dark, unseeing, his jaw oddly tight. He forced himself to relax. Sonia was never going to be content just sitting home for long; he knew that. To keep her down hadn’t been his wish at all, and never would be. But there were a dozen protective eyes on her at the ranch; the idea of her gone all day, vulnerable, among strangers…“Not that I want you to get bored,” he whispered. His lips pressed into her hair. “I’m going to the site in the morning. Think you can wake up early enough to come with me?”

“Certainly. Except that you’re not going to the site tomorrow. Craig, it’s still too soon, you’re not-”

“About eight. You haven’t been out there in a long time.”

She sighed. She hadn’t accompanied him to work in a long time, primarily because he was so busy there that he barely had time to breathe. She could hear the implacable note in his voice, though, and thought fleetingly that if she went with him she could at least make sure he didn’t become overtired.

“You want to go?” he asked.

“I’d love to go.”

“You’re not going to be cranky if I wake you up that early?”

“I am never cranky in the morning,” she informed him.

He chuckled. “Sleep,” he urged her. “I love you, little one.”

Sonia slid a knee between his, settled her arms loosely around his waist and tucked her head just under his chin. No human being could possibly sleep that way for an entire night, but she couldn’t sleep at all if she didn’t start out that way.

Craig did his part in the nightly ritual, arranging the comforter to her chin, then sliding his hand slowly down her back to her bottom, where his palm rested on the curve of her hip. Against her stomach, like a warm surprise, was the feeling of his throbbing and most intimate arousal, nurtured by nothing more than the physical closeness between them.

In time, he fell asleep. Sonia cuddled contentedly, waiting for the darkness to claim her as well. Part of Craig remained distinctly unsleepy, still pulsating against her, making her half smile. And then not. Before the attack, she thought fleetingly, a cracked rib wouldn’t have stopped his making love to her. Nothing had ever stopped his making love to her, almost from the first moment he’d met her. Until now.


***

Groggily, Sonia wandered into the bathroom, flipping on the faucets for the shower as she wrapped a turban around her hair. Waiting for the water temperature to warm, she was terribly afraid the nice, sleepy euphoria was going to fade the instant she stepped under the pelting spray.

The ominous premonition proved true as she closed the sliding glass door and felt the pulsing hot water rush over her flesh. Her eyes even opened-a miracle. Through the cloudy glass, her eyes registered all the pale blue and silver features of “her” bath…she could hear Craig’s disgraceful baritone coming from the “his.”

She was the one who’d thought that “his” and “her” bathrooms were critical when they were designing the house. After all, how long could romance last when one had to brush one’s teeth in front of one’s mate and have an audience for putting on makeup? Not to mention that she had a longtime habit of hanging out her pantyhose to create an obstacle course.

“Sonia? Are you finally up, sleepyhead?”

In principle, next-door bathrooms were a good idea. Except that Craig had modified the original architectural plans when they’d put the shower in. “No,” she murmured grumblingly.

A glass door slid open behind her. Not the shower door that she’d just closed, leading into her bathroom, but the glass door that divided their individual shower stalls. Suddenly, there was nothing dividing their individual shower stalls; and one very naked, very wide-awake man with wicked dark eyes aimed a hand shower sprayer in her direction, attacking her unmercifully until she was gasping.

“Feel more wide awake?” Craig said mildly. “It’s really much easier if you get it over all at once.”

“Did you hear me asking for advice? You know, if we ever have a two-year-old, he’s going to feel right at home with you.”

“You look beautiful.”

“I haven’t had my coffee.”

“Coffee couldn’t possibly make you look more beautiful. Sonia, you are delectable in the buff,” Craig said gravely.

Color touched her cheeks, and a small smile curled on her lips. “Why can’t you just let me be mean and cranky in the morning? Why do you always have to put me in a good mood?” she complained, switching off the faucets as Craig shut off his. Dripping, Sonia brushed deliberately against him on the way out of his shower door, and reached for one of his towels.

That was the other problem with the “his” and “her” bathrooms. Hers was a waste; it was never used. His toothpaste was better, too, and she’d gotten into the habit of stealing his shaving cream when she shaved her legs. Worse than that, she’d unfortunately become addicted to watching the way he vigorously rubbed his hair dry with a thick towel. And besides, she’d stocked his red-and-gold bath with huge, luxurious scarlet towels, twice the side of those on her side. With his towel wrapped around her, she squeezed his blue-and-white toothpaste onto her toothbrush, which inevitably seemed to be in there anyway.

“Think you can actually be ready to go in about half an hour?” Craig asked her.

“No problem,” she promised him.

She watched in the mirror as he took the towel off his head and leaned with both elbows on the marble counter, regarding her as she brushed her teeth. “Before we were married, I swore I’d never do this in front of you, you know,” she told him.

“You were always modest about the silliest things.”

“Turn your head.”

He did, deftly removing her thick scarlet towel at the same time. In all her naked dignity, she escaped to the bedroom a few minutes later. Ten minutes after that, she was dressed. A short-sleeved black crepe blouse tucked into a black-and-white checked skirt; red sandals, red button earrings and a red silk rose on her lapel finished the outfit. She flicked on mascara, whisked blusher on her cheeks and smoothed on cherry lipstick-all the makeup she ever wore. She might not be awake, she mused, but her husband was still fooling around with shaving cream.

She wandered promptly toward the smell of coffee.

The kitchen was positively drenched in sunlight. Cheerful yellow beams danced on the old Spanish tiles and on the fireplace in the breakfast nook. She closed her eyes, inhaling the aroma of coffee like an addict deprived of his fix, then took the first sip and wandered out of the dazzling brightness with the cup in her hand. One could only take so much cheerfulness this early.