“Yeah. The whole situation is touchy, I get that. I just…” Hollis shrugged. “I haven’t been seeing anyone either. Haven’t been for a long time…well, dates now and then, but… Hell, I’m sounding a little bit like an idiot here, aren’t I?”

“No,” Annie said softly. Hollis had never talked to her about anything personal, and she didn’t want her to stop now. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted to know more about someone, when she wanted the first fragile threads of connection to grow stronger, rather than to disappear. “Maybe we could just do the friends thing.”

“Sure, that’s the smart thing to do,” Hollis said. “Only…”

“Only what? What, Hollis?”

Hollis reached over the space between the bucket seats and plucked a strand of hair away from Annie’s cheek. When she sifted it through her fingers, Annie felt the tiny tug deep inside. She held her breath, unable to look away. Hollis’s face was all she could see. So beautiful.

“I don’t usually want to kiss my friends,” Hollis murmured. She leaned closer, sliding her fingers around the back of Annie’s neck. The slightest pressure from her fingertips drew Annie closer, until the moonlight sparkling in Hollis’s eyes blinded her.

Panic grabbed Annie by the throat. She recognized this feeling—this drowning rush of desire, only so much more than she remembered. Another second and she would be lost. “Hollis, I can’t.”

“Okay.”

Hollis’s breath shimmered against her lips, warm and gentle. Hollis’s fingers loosened and slid along her skin until her hand was gone, leaving Annie’s skin to chill in the hot summer air. Annie shivered.

Hollis sucked in an uneven breath. “Sorry. I’m making a mess of this.”

“No, you’re not,” Annie whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Hollis eased back in her seat, and the silvery strands of their connection snapped and disappeared into the dark.

Annie hurriedly collected her bag from the floor in front of her seat, needing to get out of the car. Needing to get away from her own disappointment and the silence that grew cold and still between them. Unwanted memories warred with resurrected needs, made it hard for her to breathe. She didn’t even know where the feelings came from, but she wanted to run like a night creature sensing danger. “Why don’t we hold off on the motorcycle lessons. We’re both busy.”

“I’ll help you with Callie.” Hollis jumped from the car and came around the other side, opening Annie’s door and then Callie’s. When Annie unbuckled Callie’s car seat, Hollis said, “Let me take her.”

“I can carry her,” Annie said.

“I know, but it’ll be easier for you to get the door.”

Hollis gently lifted Callie. Annie extracted the car seat and hurried up the walk, fishing her keys from her bag, aware of Hollis right behind her, carrying her daughter. She pushed the door wide, dumped her bag and Callie’s toys on the table just inside, and spun around. Hollis stood on the other side of the threshold with everything that mattered to her in her arms. Callie’s head rested in the crook of Hollis’s shoulder, innocent and untroubled as only a sleeping child could be. Hollis’s face shimmered in the moonlight, gentle and strong. Annie held out her arms. “Thank you.”

Hollis passed Callie over. “Thanks for tonight. It was great.”

“It was.”

“I’ll call you about setting up some time at the clinic.” Hollis turned to go.

The door stood open between them. Annie could close it now and retreat into the safety of her life. “Hollis.”

Hollis paused, turned back, her face in shadows.

“I’m seeing one of my new mothers tomorrow morning. Home visit. Are you free?”

“I can be.”

“Maybe you’d like to see what I do.”

“Good idea.”

“I’ll swing by and pick you up, then.” Helplessly, Annie watched the chasm between them grow wider. “Is quarter of eight all right?”

“Sounds perfect. Good night, Annie.” Hollis turned, walked down the steps, got into her car, and drove away.

Annie, her cheek resting against Callie’s silken hair, stood in the open doorway watching until the red taillights winked out. She’d made the right choice, and by morning, when the bright light of sanity dispelled the unnerving spell of Hollis’s touch, she’d believe it.

Chapter Eighteen

Honor woke when Quinn sat up in bed. Blinking in the gray half-light, she rolled onto her side and traced the muscles in Quinn’s back with her fingertips. “It’s still dark out.”

Quinn swung around on the edge of the bed, leaned down, and kissed her. “It won’t be in fifteen minutes.”

“Mmm.” Honor curled around Quinn and laced her arms around Quinn’s waist, running her palms over Quinn’s abdomen. Quinn sucked in a breath and Honor smiled. She stroked the length of Quinn’s thigh, her body stirring as muscles tensed under her hand. “You could have told her you’d ride after work tonight, you know.”

“Too uncertain.” Quinn swung her legs back onto the bed, settled against the headboard, and drew Honor into her arms. “I’m on backup call, and you know what summers are like.”

“Triple the trauma admissions. Believe me, I know.” Honor sighed and rested her cheek on Quinn’s chest, basking in the soft, steady sound of her breathing and the unwavering beat of her heart. This was home—the heart of her existence. “You’re awfully good to do this with her.”

“Self-preservation.” Quinn stroked Honor’s back, lightly drawing strands of hair through her fingers. “She wants to ride in the breast cancer Ride for Life at the end of the summer, and there’s no way she’s going alone. It’s ninety miles, and I’ll have to work my ass off to get into shape.”

Honor chuckled and pressed her lips to Quinn’s chest. Strong muscles, soft skin. Miraculous. “I’d volunteer to go with you, but honestly, the idea of riding that far makes me want to run screaming in the other direction.”

“You can cheer us on.”

Honor laughed softly. “Always wanted to be a cheerleader.”

“Those short little skirts are really hot.” Quinn tugged Honor on top of her, entwining their legs.

“Forget it.”

Quinn cradled her ass, guiding her over the familiar rise of her thigh. “Too late. The image is already in my mind. Do they still make pom-po—”

Honor bit Quinn’s lower lip.

“Okay.” Quinn arched beneath her, groaning softly. “No pom-poms.”

Honor’s head pounded with the pressure against her clitoris. Bracing her hands on either side of the pillow, she held herself just above Quinn’s body, her breasts gently brushing Quinn’s. Hot skin stroked her swelling clit. “This is not going to get you out onto a bicycle. And if you keep it up, I guarantee you’re going to be uncomfortable while you’re riding.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll chance it.” Quinn kissed her again, a slow, deep, familiar glide of tongues, a teasing brush of lips.

Honor’s mind went blank and her blood raced. She fisted her hands in Quinn’s hair and pressed into Quinn, riding Quinn’s hard muscles, propelling herself higher, striving for the crest. So soon, so good. “Oh my God.”

“That’s right, baby,” Quinn whispered, one arm holding Honor tightly to her, the other guiding her hips. “I love when you do this.”

Honor buried her face in Quinn’s neck, muffling her cry as pleasure broke over her like sunshine bursting from behind clouds. She trembled and let herself fall into the firm certainty of Quinn’s embrace.

“Oh yeah.” Quinn rolled her over and rose above her, kissing her closed eyelids, her mouth, her neck. Her body was hot and slick and hard. “I love you.”

Honor scored her nails lightly down Quinn’s back and massaged the tense muscles in her ass. “I love you. Beyond everything. I wasn’t even thinking of sex five minutes ago.”

Quinn nuzzled her neck. “I was.”

“I think that’s the first thing you think of when you open your eyes.”

Quinn laughed, kissed Honor lightly, and rolled off. She tangled her fingers with Honor’s, her strong surgeon’s hands gentle and sure. “Second thing. First thing is how right it is to have you beside me and the kids asleep in the other rooms. Then all I can think of is wanting you.”

“Get out of this bed if you plan to go, otherwise you’re going to have to think up—”

A door slammed down the hall and footsteps raced toward their room. A knock came on their door.

“Quinn? You up?”

Quinn pulled the sheet over Honor’s nude body and grabbed the T-shirt from the chair beside the bed. She yanked it on over her head. “Yup. Just getting dressed.”

“Five minutes,” Arly said in a voice that sounded so much like Honor, Quinn could only laugh.

“I hear you,” Quinn called.

“Meet you downstairs.”

Quinn looked over her shoulder at Honor. “Too late. Hold that thought?”

“Darling,” Honor said, “at the first opportunity. It’s the first thing I think of in the morning too.” She patted Quinn’s ass when she stood up. “Have fun. Be careful.”

“Always.” Quinn stepped into sweats. “You want me to take Jack to daycare?”

“No. I’ll drop him off on my way to Linda’s.”

“Okay. Let me know how she is. Love you.”

“I love you.” Honor rolled over and closed her eyes, the taste of Quinn in her mouth and her scent surrounding her.

*

Hollis hit East River Drive on her bicycle just as the sun came up, pedaling in a fast, even rhythm alongside the few cars leading the rush-hour charge toward the city. On the river, sculls knifed through the dark water, the college crewers flexing and pulling as one as their coxswains called out the cadence. Ducks waddled on the green expanse between the twisting two-lane road and the river’s edge. Runners strode along the paths paralleling the shoreline.

Ordinarily, this was her favorite time of day—when the air was fresh and the sky clear and the day stretched out before her filled with possibility. This morning, the clarion beauty of the early summer morning only served to darken her mood. She couldn’t shake the disappointment of Annie’s rebuff, and she couldn’t sort out why she was so bothered. It wasn’t as if Annie had cut her off—she’d just said she wanted to be friends. Fair enough. That should have been the end of the matter, but she couldn’t let it go.