"Some people don't have to get up at dawn to be productive."

She gripped the flowers a little tighter. She didn't want to spoil the

moment with an argument. "Shall I fix you some coffee?"

"You might as well. There'll be no getting any sleep here."

Emma took the flowers and wine into the kitchen. It was a narrow room

made s.p.a.cious by the gla.s.sed-in breakfast nook. She had chosen blues

and white-gleaming navy countertop, white appliances, pale blue and

white tiles for the floor. There was an old kitchen hutch in the corner

she'd painted white herself It displayed a collection of cobalt gla.s.s.

Emma added fresh water to the trio of cacti she'd started in blue bowls,

then began fixing breakfast. They had help three days a week, but she

enjoyed cooking a few meals as much as she enjoyed developing a good

print. She set Drew's favorite sausage on to grill before she ground

beans for coffee.

When he entered a few moments later, still bare-chested and unshaven,

the scents were enough to mellow his mood. Besides, he liked seeing her

at the stove, cooking for him. It reminded him that no matter who she

was, no matter how fat her bank account, she belonged to him.

He strolled over to kiss the side of her throat. "Morning." Her

answering smile faded as he slid his hands up to rub her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"It'll be ready in a minute."

"Good. I'm starved." He gave her nipples a quick, ungentle pinch.

She hated when he did that, but said nothing as she moved over to pour

his coffee. When she'd told him she didn't care to be pinched, he'd

only begun to do it more often. Just teasing her, he claimed.

You're too sensitive, Emma. You have no sense of humor.

"I have news." She handed him the cup. "Oh Drew, it's wonderful news."

His eyes sharpened. Was she pregnant? He badly wanted to present Brian

with a grandchild. "You've been to the doctor?"

"No-oh, no, I'm not pregnant, Drew. I'm sorry." She felt the familiar

sense of guilt and inadequacy. Disappointment marred his face before he

went to sit at the table.

"It's just going to take a little more time," she murmured and

cracked two eggs into the pan. "I'm keeping my temperature chart

carefully."

"Sure." He took out a cigarette, lit it, and studied her through the

smoke. "You're doing your best."

She opened her mouth. Closed it. It wasn't the time to remind him that

it took two people to make a baby. The last time they had discussed it,

he had smashed a lamp then had stormed out to leave her frazzled and

guilty until morning.

"I went to see Runyun. You know, I told you I was going?"

"Hmmm? Oh, right. The snotty old boy of the shutterbugs."

"He's not snotty." It didn't do any good to get her back up over the

term "shutterbug."

"Cranky," she said with a smile. "Often obnoxious, but not snotty." She

carried his plate to the table. She'd forgotten her own coffee, but

sat, almost ready to burst. "He's arranging for me to have a showing.

My own showing."

"Showing?" Drew said over a bite of sausage. "What the h.e.l.l are you