Time and Again

scribbled faster. "That way we can take pictures here, in the house or right outside. Then we'll need some personal things-" She fingered the thin gold chain at her throat. "Maybe some basic household items."
    "You're being a scientist." He took her by the waist and drew her slowly, unerringly, against him. "I find that very exciting."
    "That's silly."
    But it didn't seem silly at all when he lowered his head and began to nibble at her neck. She felt the floor tilt beneath her feet.
    "Cal-"
    "Hmm?" He journeyed up to a small, vulnerable spot just behind her ear.
    "I wanted to-" The pad slipped out of her hand and landed on the floor at their feet.
    "To what?" Quick and clever, his fingers loosened the knot at her waist. "Tonight you can have anything you want."
    "You." She sighed as her robe slid off her shoulders. "Just you."
    "That's the easy part." More than willing to oblige, he braced her against the counter. A hundred erotic ideas swam through his mind. He was going to see to it that neither of them thought the same way about this cozy little kitchen again. The streaks of pink along her skin stopped him.
    "What's all this?" Curious, he ran a finger over the swell of her breast, then shifted his hand to his chin.
    "I've scratched you."
    "What?" She was already floating an inch off the floor, and she was less than willing to touch down.
    "I haven't shaved in days." Annoyed with himself, he bent to lightly kiss the skin he'd irritated earlier.
    "You're so soft."
    "I didn't feel a thing." She reached for him again, but he only kissed her hair.
    "There's only one thing to do."
    "I know." She ran her hands up his muscled back. With a laugh, he hugged her tighter. "That's two things." He scooped her up again for no other reason than that it felt wonderful.
    "You don't have to carry me." But she nuzzled into his shoulder. "I can walk to bed."
    "Maybe, but we'd better use the bathroom for this."
    "The bathroom?"
    "I'm going to have to deal with that nasty-looking device," he told her as he started up the stairs. "And you're going to walk me through it so I don't cut my throat."
    Nasty-looking device? She tried to put it all together as he carried her upstairs. "Don't you know how to use a razor?"
    "We're civilized where I come from. All instruments of torture have been outlawed."
    "Is that so?" She waited until he set her down again. "I suppose that means women don't wear high heels or control-top panty hose. Never mind," she said when he opened his mouth. "I think this could become a very philosophical discussion, and it's much too late." Opening the linen closet, she took out the razor and the shaving cream. "Here you go."
    "Right." He looked at the tools in his hand with a kind of resigned dread. What a man did for his woman.
    "Just how do I go about this?"
    "This is all secondhand, as I've never shaved my face before, but I believe you spread on the shaving cream, then slide the edge of the razor over your beard."
    "Shaving cream." He squirted some into his hand, then ran his tongue over his teeth. "Not toothpaste."
    "No, I-" It didn't take her long to get the picture. Leaning back against the sink, she covered her mouth with her hand and tried, unsuccessfully, not to giggle. "Oh, Hornblower, you poor thing."
    Cal studied the can in his hand. As he saw it, he really had no choice. While Libby was bent nearly double, he turned, aimed and fired.

CHAPTER 8
    She awakened slowly, muttering a bit when the sunlight intruded on her dreams. She shifted, or tried to, but she was weighed down by an arm around her waist and a leg hooked possessively over hers.
    Content with that, she snuggled closer and had the pleasure of feeling her sleep-warmed skin rub against Cal's.
    She didn't know what time it was, and for perhaps the first time in her life it didn't matter. Morning or afternoon, she was happy to lie curled in bed, dozing the day away, as long as he was with her.
    Drifting, nearly dreaming again, she stroked a hand over him. Solid, she thought. He was solid and real and, for the moment, hers. Even with her eyes closed she could see him, every feature of his face, every line of his body. There had never been anyone she had felt belonged so completely to her before. Even her parents, for all their love, all their understanding, had belonged to each other initially. She would always think of them as a unit, first and last. And Sunny- Libby smiled a little as she thought of her sister.
    Even though she was younger by