Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

sound like he was kidding to me.”

Chapter 7
    Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.
    —P LATO
    O n Friday morning, Olivia woke slowly, swimming to consciousness from a lovely dream that slipped away the moment she tried to hold on to its memory.
    Without opening her eyes, she moved closer to Sawyer Rawlings’ body. She listened to him breathe, to the slight sawing noise that rose from low in his chest whenever he slept on his back. She longed to touch him, to slide her hand across his collarbone and let it come to rest on his shoulder, but she didn’t want to wake him, so she settled for laying her cheek against his upper arm.
    At the foot of the bed, Haviland stirred, his paws twitching as he chased imaginary shorebirds. Olivia heard him whine once and then sneeze and knew the poodle would soon press his moist nose against her palm, silently asking to be let out. The moment she opened the deck door, he’d take off like a racehorse out of the starting gate, tearing over the dunes until he reached the water line. In the peach light, he’d send crabs scuttling into their burrows and force the gulls to take to the air, his caramel brown eyes shining with such unadulterated joy that he often made Olivia wish she were a dog.
    A soft gurgle sounded from the kitchen. The coffee machine was brewing twelve perfect cups of coffee. Olivia sighed. She’d have loved nothing better than to spend the morning in sweatpants and a T-shirt, drinking cup after cup as she and Rawlings read the paper and then took a lazy stroll on the beach. But they’d have little time to dawdle today. They had to be on the road by midmorning in order to make it to the Croatan National Forest for the opening of the Coastal Carolina Food Festival.
    Thinking of the presence of television crews, festivalgoers, and the hours she’d committed to judging made Olivia want to linger in this moment even more. She lifted her hand and laid it gently on Rawlings’ chest. She could feel his heart beating, its pace steady as a clock’s, and she suddenly yearned to feel it leap beneath her touch.
    Using the pad of one finger, she made circles around his nipple and then traced the outline of his pectoral muscles. Goose bumps erupted over his skin and he shifted, his breath becoming shallower as he was pulled toward wakefulness.
    Without making a sound, Olivia eased her nightgown over her head. She tossed it on the ground and then draped a long leg over Rawlings’ leg, pressing her bare stomach and breasts against his body. His hands reacted instantly, curling around her back and traveling down over the curve of her buttocks. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thighs, pulling her naked body more firmly against him.
    Olivia rolled on top of Rawlings, erasing the space between them. She felt him grow hard under her and his response quickened her own yearning. Kissing his neck just below his ear, she tugged at the waistband of his boxer shorts with one hand and buried the other in his thick hair.
    Fully awake now, Rawlings kicked off his shorts and flipped Olivia onto her back. He pinned her hands above her head and kissed her deeply. She closed her eyes as his lips moved down her body, moaning softly, and then with more urgency as he entered her. He kept her hands captured, forcing her to surrender control. She gave in to his will, letting him manipulate her until desire threatened to burn her from the inside out. Without warning, she became a supernova, a mass of white light and intense heat, exploding into the quiet darkness of space.
    Afterward they lay panting, their bodies entwined like a pair of twisted roots. Wrapped in each other’s arms, Olivia and Rawlings silently watched as sun rays painted their skin pink and gold.
    Haviland, who’d left the room when Olivia had thrown her nightgown on the floor, returned wearing such a disdainful expression that Rawlings had to laugh.
    “I’ll let him out,” he offered.
    “No, you’ve already outdone yourself.” She leaned over him to examine the clock on the nightstand. “And it’s not even eight.”
    “I could get used to being woken up like this,” he said, giving her another long kiss before letting her go. “Sure beats an alarm clock.”
    Olivia got out of bed and crossed the room to her closet. Pulling on a silky robe covered with dogwood blossoms, she paused