Absolutely, Positively

the table gaped. Josh and Brandon exchanged wary looks.

    “Second,” Molly continued, “I want everyone on both sides of Harry's family to attend the wedding. Anyone who is not there will find it extremely difficult to get to Harry at any time during the next fifty or sixty years.”

    “Good God,” Parker muttered.

    Molly looked at the stunned faces of Harry's family. “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

    Josh grinned. “Absolutely.”

    She frowned at him. “One more thing. There will be no naked women jumping out of cakes at Harry's bachelor party. Understood?”

    “Yes, ma'am,” Josh said. “No naked women in the cakes. Got it.”

    Molly glanced toward the door where a waiter carrying a large tray had appeared. “Well, that's that. Let's eat. And no food fights allowed.”

    That night Harry woke up at midnight. He came awake gradually, not with a start. He lay quietly for a few seconds, wondering what had roused him from sleep. He could not put his finger on it. Nothing felt wrong. There had been no nightmares. No strange sounds in the dark.

    Then suddenly, inexplicably, he knew that Molly was wide awake beside him. He gathered her close. With a soft little murmur, she snuggled deeper into his arms. He slid one leg between her thighs.

    “What's wrong?” he whispered on a yawn.

    “Nothing.”

    “You sure?” He nuzzled the curve of her shoulder. The scent of her warmed him, delighted him, thrilled him. A certain part of him was abruptly wide awake.

    “I'm sure. I was just lying here, thinking.”

    “Humming.” He nibbled her earlobe.

    “What?”

    “You were humming.” He slid the sleeve of her nightgown downward to free one delicate breast. She felt so good beneath his hands. Soft. Warm. Exciting. “I heard you.”

    She ignored that. “Harry, what are you doing?”

    “What does it look like I'm doing?” He bent his head to kiss one nipple. It firmed at the touch of his tongue.

    “Harry?” She stroked his shoulders.

    “Yes?” He flattened his hand on her stomach.

    “How does the first of the month sound? That's two weeks from now.”

    “What happens on the first of the month?” He tangled his fingers in the hair at the apex of her thighs, probing for the warmth and gathering dew he knew he would find there.

    Molly sucked in her breath. “Our wedding. Kelsey will be back from her summer workshop by then. I…Harry.” Her hands clenched in his hair. She twisted, lifting herself against his questing hand.

    Satisfaction coursed through Harry. Her response to him seemed to grow stronger, more familiar, more intimate in some indefinable manner each time he made love to her. It was like playing an instrument, he thought. The more they practiced together, the better the music got.

    “The first of the month sounds fine,” Harry whispered.

    “You'll be finished with your paper by then?” She was breathless now.

    “Yes.” He settled between her silken thighs and entered her slowly. “The sooner the better, as far as I'm concerned.”

    He did not even bother to fight the urge to sink himself, all of himself, completely into her. This opening of his senses brought such powerful, intense pleasure to both of them.

    It was as though he had lived in a shuttered room all of his life until he had met Molly. Now, when he was with her like this, the windows were fully open at last, and he could see the true colors of the world.

    * * *

    A long time later Harry drifted contentedly on the verge of sleep, allowing himself to luxuriate in the deep satisfaction that had come in the aftermath of the lovemaking.

    Part of him was dimly aware of the moonlight on the bed, the feel of Molly cuddled against him, and a gentle sensation that had no name.

    He considered the sensation with idle curiosity. It was a sort of muted singing, he thought. No, make that afeeling . Almost a presence somewhere in his mind.

    Molly was humming again.

    It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, he decided. In fact it had a certain comforting quality.

    “Don't worry about it,” Molly murmured sleepily. “You get used to it.”

    Harry stirred. “Get used to what?”

    But Molly did not answer. She was already fast asleep.

21

    Olivia sipped thoughtfully at the cup of specially blended Assam tea Molly had just finished making. She glanced around the front room of Harry's condominium, which was littered with several packing cartons full of books. “Do you know where they've taken