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there, Jordan,” she said.
    It was dark when she left the hospital that night, but she took the time to stop at a stationery store to pick up a card for Brian. He would be home when she got there, after five days on the road. She wanted to celebrate, as she always did, his safe return. She hated those trips, knowing he was almost constantly in the air. Despite the safety record of commercial flights and the fact that he was one of the best pilots ever born, she couldn’t relax until he was securely grounded in the town house they’d shared for the past two years.
    She read more than a dozen cards before finding one that had the right tone. It was clearly, strongly, loving, but without demands or expectations. Brian regularly invited her to ask more of him, but she was not yet ready to make herself that vulnerable.
    It was after seven when she pulled into the garage of their town house, the garage her car shared with the metal pipes from Brian’s soccer goal, along with his varied collection of balls and bats and tennis rackets. He’d finally given up rugby this year—the week after he turned forty—but as far as Vanessa could tell, Brian Everett had simply channeled his passion for rugby into the other sports he loved.
    Stepping out of the car, she could smell the aroma of something Asian—soy sauce and sesame oil—and she smiled to herself. He was cooking. He was in a good mood, as happy to be home as she was to have him there.
    He greeted her at the door, spatula in hand, and pulled her into an embrace. Soft piano music from the stereo in the den filled the air around them as she kissed him, slipping the card into the wide pocket of his smock-style apron for him to find later. Brian liked surprises.
    “I’ve missed you something fierce,” he said.
    She stepped into the kitchen and took off her coat, draping it over a chair. Then she wrapped her arms around him again, and for a moment she was aware only of the warmth of his body against hers, the sensation of his lips pressing hard against her own.
    He drew away from her. A lock of brown hair fell over his forehead, and there was a smile on his boyish face. “Let’s skip dinner,” he said.
    “But it smells so good.”
    “Later.” He turned off the heat under the wok, then put his arms around her again. “How about right here in the kitchen, huh?” He nuzzled her neck. “Have you ever made love on the kitchen floor?”
    “Uh-uh.” She had, but not in a very long time. She barely remembered the man, and “making love” was probably not an accurate description of what had occurred between them.
    She tapped her foot on the tile floor. “It’ll be awfully hard, though,” she said.
    “It’s extremely hard.” He took her hand from around his neck and drew it toward the front of his pants. “Want to see?”
    She laughed, and their hands butted up against the card in his pocket.
    “What’s this?” He pulled out the card and opened it, reading it to himself. His face grew serious for a moment, and he pulled her back into an embrace. “I love you, too, Van.” His voice was husky, and for the second time that day she felt the threat of tears.
    It was another minute before he let go of her. “So,” he said, “the floor? I have to warn you, though. I’ve been replacing your birth control pills with placebos.”
    Vanessa shook her head with a smile, taking his hand. “Come on.” She led him toward the hallway, and without protesting further, he followed her into the bedroom.
    She made a quick stop in the bathroom, and by the time she emerged, Brian had lit a candle and set it on the dresser. She undressed and joined him on the queen-sized water bed. They kissed for a long time, so long that her body began seeking more from him. Her legs twined around his; her arms circled his back to pull him closer. But just as Brian’s hand came to rest on her breast, his fingers grazing her nipple, the phone rang on the night table.
    She lifted her head to see