He considered the hour, deemed it pretty d.a.m.n unfair to wake her before dawn, even though he figured he could make it worth her while.

He rolled out of bed instead, then just walked to the gla.s.s doors, pulled them open and stepped out on the bedroom deck.

Maybe he just needed some air.

He liked the quiet of this hour, and the way the slice of moon, not quite finished with the night, showed itself through the trees. He wished fleetingly that he'd gotten water before he'd come out, then just stood pulling in the peace.

All the work, stress, frustrations of the job were worth it for moments like this. Moments of utter quiet and stillness before night ended and day began. Soon, the sun would blur the sky to the east with red, the birds would wake chattering, and the cycle would start again.

He liked the cycle fine, he thought, absently lowering a hand to D.A.'s head when the dog leaned on his leg. He had what he wanted. Good work, a good place, family who not only mattered but who understood him, and if he had to be sentimental, loved him anyway.

He couldn't ask for better. Then why, he wondered, did it feel as if something hadn't quite clicked into place? That something hung up, just slightly out of alignment, and all he had to do was turn it a bit, and it would fall just where it should be.

"What's wrong?"

He turned, saw Hope. Something wanted to click, wanted to shift and fall.

"Ryder?" She stepped out, tying the short little robe he wished she hadn't bothered with.

"Nothing. I'm awake, that's all."

"It's early, even for you." She moved to him, laid her hands on the deck rail as he did. "Listen to the quiet. Country quiet, country dark. You can forget in all the busyness that there are times and places so wonderfully still."

Since he'd been thinking nearly the same, he looked down at her. How could she be so d.a.m.n perfect? It threw him off.

She smiled back at him, and the look of her, still flushed and soft from sleep, blew right through the center of him.

"I could make coffee. We could sit out here, drink the first cup of the day and watch the sunrise."

"I've got a better idea." He wanted her-too much and too often-but what was the point in fighting it? Not in the bed, he realized, where he'd dreamed of b.l.o.o.d.y death and bitter loss.

So he took her hand, pulled her toward the steps leading down.

"What are you doing? Ryder, you can't just wander around. You're naked."

"Oh yeah." Quick and clever, he tugged off her robe, tossed it in the direction of a deck chair. "You, too."

Over her protests, he towed her down the stairs.

"Country dark, country quiet, country private. What are you worried about? n.o.body's around to see you. Well, there's Dumba.s.s, but he's seen you naked before. Me, too."

"I'm not walking around here without any clothes on."

"I wasn't planning on doing much walking." So saying, he lowered her to the gra.s.s, damp and cool with dew.

"Oh, and this isn't nearly as crazy as walking around naked. We can-"

He lowered his mouth to hers, stopped her words with a slow, shimmering kiss.

"I want to touch you while the sun comes up. I want to watch you, to be in you when the day takes over. I just want you," he said and kissed her again.

So with words that touched her heart, he seduced her. With hands thorough and skilled, he aroused her. She gave herself to him, thrilled to be wanted, grateful to want. She opened herself on the dew-laced gra.s.s as the last stars guttered out like candle flames, as the moon slid away under the rise of shadowed land. As those first glimmers of red and gold eked through the night-dark woods.

He took what she offered; gave her what he had. With her he ended the night and began the day. The dreams of death and despair faded away. Inside him something turned, just a little. Something clicked and fell.

Here was hope. Here was Hope. And she was perfect.

As he felt her crest, birds woke singing. And the sky bloomed with another dawn.

SHE EXPECTED GUESTS by three, and the family well before. After she picked up her car, drove back to the inn, she spent the time doing her routine room checks.

She needed to be busy, she thought, so she wouldn't be tempted to speak her thoughts aloud. To speak to Eliza.

In Nick and Nora she checked the lights, the TV remote, the room folder, added a bit to the room diffuser before going out and doing the same in Jane and Rochester.

Fresh flowers would arrive early afternoon.

She moved from room to room changing lightbulbs when needed, adjusting room temperatures.

Back in the kitchen she filled a fruit bowl, set out cookies, made a fresh pitcher of iced tea.

In her office, she checked and answered emails, phone messages, busied herself while she wished the time away.

Today, they'd tell Lizzy they'd found her Billy. What would happen then, she couldn't know. But she wanted to.

Just as she wanted to know what had been behind that look in Ryder's eyes in the predawn dark. He'd been too quiet, even for him, since they'd found Billy Ryder's grave.

And there'd been something quietly urgent in his lovemaking. They should have laughed, she thought now. Two people making love on the lawn with a dog for silent company should have laughed, been playful. But he'd been intense, so focused.

And she? She'd been swept away, taken under by his intense, focused need.

She wanted to reach him. She thought she'd begun to, and now? She didn't know, and he wouldn't say.

She remembered Avery's words. You didn't love and try to change. That was true, that was real and right. So she'd wait until he was ready to tell her what was behind that look in his eyes.

She heard Carolee come in, call out. Hope ordered the rest of her work, added to her list, crossed off what she'd done, then walked out to the kitchen.

"I got sticky buns from next door." Carolee offered a slightly shamed smile. "I just wanted to do something."

"I know what you mean."

"Then I thought I'm not sure sticky buns were the right thing to do."

"They always are." Understanding, Hope put an arm around Carolee's shoulders.