"I'm so glad you dropped by," she said sleepily, and smiled when she felt his lips curve against the side of her breast.
"Glad you happened to be home."
"This is all so… gorgeous . Lying here, all naked and satisfied at…" She turned her head to check the clock. "Mmm, ten minutes to eleven in the morning. Better than winning the lottery."
He lifted his head and grinned at her. "And then some."
"You're so handsome. I keep thinking you look like one of those slick-looking guys in my hairstyle magazines."
He grimaced. "Please."
"Really. You could use a trim, though." She spread her fingers in his hair. "I could take care of that for you."
"Ah… Maybe sometime. Or other."
She gave the hair she held a friendly tug. "I'm very good, you know, at what I do for a living."
"I'm sure you are. Absolutely." To distract her, he pressed a kiss to her collarbone, then rolled aside. "I really did come by to talk to you."
"You can talk while I give you a trim. Hairdressers are like bartenders. We're trained to talk and work at the same time."
"I bet. But this probably isn't the best time. We should get dressed."
"Coward." She sat up, wrapped her arms around her updrawn knees.
"I'll accept that for the moment." He rose to find his pants. "Zoe, last night—well, more accurately early this morning—I had an experience."
The playful mood vanished as she scrambled to her knees. "Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?"
"No." He picked up her top, held it out. "You're going to need to stay calm while I tell you."
He dressed while he related the story.
Her initial fear had abated. He was unhurt, she could see that for herself. And he was steady, God knew. Maybe just a little too steady.
"You think he was using Jordan and Flynn against you—or wanted you to think they were against you."
"That sums it up."
"He doesn't understand people, or love, or friendship. He doesn't understand you, that's for certain, if he thought that would make you feel isolated or frighten you off. It just made you more involved."
The faintest smile ghosted around his mouth. "You seem to understand me."
She studied his face. "I don't know that I do, but I do understand how you are with Jordan and Flynn. Why did he pick that night? Because you were young, because it was near the Peak? Everything means something now. We're so close everything means something."
He nodded, pleased that their thoughts were running along the same l
ines. "I think it was both. While we were young, and more easily molded. Before we knew you or Mal, before Jordan looked at Dana as someone other than Flynn's sister. That was the night Jordan saw Rowena walking on the parapet at the Peak."
He paused, smoothed the cuffs of his shirt. "I was sixteen that night, Zoe. The same age you were when you left home."
"Oh." She wrapped her arms around herself as if she'd just felt a chill. "You think that means something?"
"I don't think we can afford to discount anything as coincidence. It was an important night for me, and for Flynn and Jordan. Didn't seem like it at the time, really. Just one of those reckless summer nights. But we were on that brink where you step away from childhood, toward manhood. You were the same age when you took your step."
"It was different for me."
"Yeah. But maybe if Kane could have twisted what happened that night, at least in my mind, he could have twisted how I think about it now. And what I did after. How I feel about Flynn and Jordan has a lot to do with why I'm back here, and how I met you."