“They didn’t.”

“But what if—?”

“They didn‘t,” he repeated, his voice as lazy as the hand that continued to stroke. “Besides, they’d’ve heard you making sex noises before they got close enough to see anything—then they’d’ve politely taken another direction while they sighed in envy.”

“I didn’t make sex noises.”

“Oh yeah, lots of them. Grade-A  p**n  sex noises. You could have a fallback career there.”

“I most certainly do not—”

He rolled on top of her, slid down and found her breast with his mouth. She couldn’t quite bite back the gasp and groan.

“Hear that? Wasn’t me.”

Because he just nuzzled in, she found her breath again. “Okay, well, it’s good to know if Vows goes under I can make a living doing  p**n  moan-overs.”

“You’d be a star.”

“Maybe you should gag me.” When he lifted his head and grinned, she felt heat wash over her. “Not really. I don’t think.”

“We’ll keep it as an option.” He lowered his head again, but eased over to take his weight off her. “If we’d thought to pitch a tent we could just stay here all night.”

The idea made her snort. “When’s the last time you went camping?”

“I think I was twelve.”

“Yeah, not your thing. Or mine. I guess we need to get dressed and get up to the house.”

“We’re naked and sticky. But I can fix part of that.” He wrapped around her, rolled, rolled.

Her brain engaged, too late, but soon enough to understand what he had in mind. “No, Del! You can’t—”

They hit the cool water of the pond tangled together. She didn’t swallow much, and wiggled and kicked her way to the surface to sputter it out. While she did, he laughed like a lunatic.

“Shit! Shit!You maniac! There are frogs in here. And fish. Fish!” She squealed it as something fluttered against her leg. She struck out for the bank, but he nabbed her.

“It feels great.”

“Fish.” She shoved at him. “Frogs.”

“You and me. I’m naked in the pond with Laurel McBane.And she’s all slippery. Oops,” he said when his hand slid between her legs, when he cupped her.

“Del.” Breathless now, clinging. “We’ll drown.”

“Let’s find out.”

They didn’t drown, but she barely had the strength to pull herself out and onto the grass where she lay gasping for air.

“We never, never saw anything like that through the binoculars.”

He reared up in shock. “You had binoculars?”

“Of course we did. We couldn’t get close enough to see anything without binoculars. But the frog? He didn’t need them, and he’s seen entirely too much.”

“He’ll keep quiet about it if he wants to keep his legs.”

She managed to turn her head, meet Del’s eyes. “Now we’re naked and wet.”

“But happy.”

She smiled. “I can’t argue with that. But how are we going to get into the house?”

“I’m a Brown. I have a plan.”

In the end, she wore his shirt, he wore the pants, and they balled up the rest. Still damp, and trying not to laugh, they snuck in the side door to make the dash to her room.

“I think we pulled it off,” she said and dumped her load the minute the door was closed. “Now I’m freezing. I need a hot shower.”

“Yeah, you probably do. You look like somebody who just had sex in the pond.”

He put his arm around her to warm her as they walked toward the shower.

“Del? Remind me to do some extra training the next time I make you dinner.”

SHE SLEPT LIKE A WOMAN IN A COMA, AND SURFACED JUST AS groggy and disoriented when her alarm sounded.

“No, it’s a mistake. It can’t be morning.” She opened one eye, read the time display on her clock—and with a resigned slap, turned off the alarm.

Beside her Del murmured something, and tried to draw her back.

“I have to get up. You should just go back to sleep, stay in bed.”

“Good idea.” He rolled over.

She scowled at him, then got up to dress in the dark.

Down in her kitchen she brewed coffee, and drank the first cup hot and black while she scanned her day’s schedule. It might as well have been written in Greek.

To clear the cobwebs, she poured a second cup, added a generous spoonful of sugar, then got a muffin out of her tin. She took the coffee and the muffin outside, into the air, into what was arguably her favorite time of day.

Just before dawn, just before the light beat back the dark. Before anyone or anything stirred and the world—her favorite place in the world—was all hers.

Maybe she was tired, maybe another couple hours’ sleep would’ve been blissful, but it was hard to beat the view, the feel of that hushed early morning.

She nibbled on the muffin, sipped the coffee, felt her brain start to clear as the sky turned pink and pale in the east.

Her eyes scanned the horizon, and back over the roll of green, skipped over the gardens, the terraces, the pergola Emma and her crew would be busy dressing before long.

And she saw the light shimmer over the water of the pond, the vague shadow of the willow swimming on it.

She thought of the night, of Del sleeping in her bed. And smiled.

It was going to be a beautiful day.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

VACATION. LAUREL COULD SCENT IT, NEARLY TOUCH IT. SHE WOULD be on it if this damn event would ever end.

Sunday afternoon events tended toward smaller affairs. Sophisticated or casual, fussy or freewheeling, weddings or anniversary parties booked on a Sunday afternoon leaned toward a pretty brunch or an elegant tea, most often ending early enough for guests to go home, maybe catch a ball game or a movie.

But not this one. Not the last event before the glories and raptures of vacation began. At four on Sunday afternoon, the Ballroom rocked. Champagne flowed. The bride and groom—second-timearounders in their early forties, danced to the oldies the DJ spun like a couple of teenagers on spring break.

“Why don’t they want to go home and have sex?” Laurel muttered to Emma.

“They’ve been together for three years—over a year of that living together. They probably have sex whenever they want.”