From the Heart

acceptance. He found it amusing, and strangely endearing. This wasn’t a woman who made it a habit of waking up in a man’s bed.
    The quiet morning cuddle was a new sensation, and Liv drifted with it. Undemanding intimacy. Tangled with him, she explored it sleepily. She wasn’t certain what she was feeling. What emotion was this? Contentment? Happiness? Simple pleasure at being close enough to touch and be touched?
    Something had changed. Doors had opened. She wasn’t sure whether she or Thorpe had turned the lock, but it hadbeen done. His breath was warm on her cheek, his arms lightly possessive around her. She was no longer alone. Did she want to be? She felt the pressure of his body against her. Yesterday she had been certain that solitude was the answer for her. But now . . .
    She had made love with him. Shared herself. Taken from him. Liv wasn’t a casual person. Intimacy was no small gesture for her. Intimacy meant commitment. To her, the two had always, would always, walk hand in hand. And yet, she had promised herself there would be no more commitments in her life, no more one-to-one relationships. There was too much in her past to remind her of the risks. He was becoming too important. She was becoming too vulnerable. It was much too easy to stay where she was, wrapped tight, held close. If she stayed too long, she might forget how quickly disillusionment came.
    She shifted, wanting to break the bond before it became too strong. “I have to get up. I have to be in by nine-thirty.”
    Still silent, Thorpe brought her back to him. His mouth closed gently over hers. She was so soft, so warm. And her scent still lingered. He’d waited long, too long, to wake beside her. Now he wanted to enjoy the moment. He wanted to see how she looked in the morning, fresh from sleep, her eyes still heavy. He had slept beside her, awakened beside her. He didn’t intend to be without her again.
    Liv responded to the gentleness and the lazy arousal. For a moment she could pretend there was no outside world that demanded their involvement and no past to inhibit her. There was only the two of them. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine it was still night and they had hours left to hold each other. But time was passing. The sun was a pale yellow light through the windows.
    “We have to get up,” she murmured, almost wishing he would contradict her.
    “Mmm.” He shifted his head slightly to see the clock. “Apparently,” he agreed, and settled for a last nuzzle of her throat. “I don’t suppose your conscience would allow you to come down with a sudden case of laryngitis or a convenient fever?”
    “Would yours?” she countered.
    He laughed and kissed her. “At the moment, I have no conscience.”
    “I wish I could say the same.” Easing away from him, she sat up, automatically pressing the sheet to her breast. “I’m going to need a robe.”
    “Pity.” With a groan he rolled away from her and rose. “I’ll supply you with a robe. And breakfast,” he added as he padded to the closet. “If you handle the coffee.”
    She was a little stunned to see him stand naked in front of the closet. Straightening her shoulders, she told herself not to be a fool. She had just spent the night with him. His body was no secret to her now. But to see him, Liv thought, as he pulled out the first robe for himself. He was magnificently built—hard, lean, with broad sinewy shoulders and a long torso. She had indeed often thought he seemed streamlined in his clothes. Without them, he appeared more the athlete.
    “Okay?” He pulled out a short, kimono-style robe in blue terry and turned to her.
    She had lost what he had been saying. Her eyes lifted to the amusement in his. “What? I’m sorry.”
    “Can you make coffee, Liv?” He grinned as he held out the robe.
    “Have you got a jar and a spoon?”
    He looked pained. “Are you joking?”
    “I was afraid you wouldn’t. I’ll manage, I suppose,” she told him doubtfully, and slipped her arms into the robe.
    “The percolator’s on the counter; coffee’s on the second shelf over the stove,” he instructed as he swung into the bath. “See what you can do.”
    She wrinkled her nose as he shut the door, then rose from the bed.
    In the kitchen, she found things precisely where he had told her. She ran water and measured coffee. Just barely, she could hear the sound of the shower running.
    She found it an odd sensation to be poking around in his kitchen, naked