He wrapped both hands around the mug. "Dad tried to shield me from the worst of the blast but no one could have suppressed that explosion. Sullivan and I went a few rounds before he finally realized that I wasn't going to back down and change my mind."

"It must have been a difficult time."

"Yeah." He took another sip of coffee. "But we got through it."

"It's a tribute to the strength of your family bonds."

"Uh-huh." He did not want to talk any more about that time in his life. It was tied up too closely with Amelia's death. He glanced around the room. "Looks like you planned to stay here for a while."

She raised one shoulder in a tiny shrug. "Plans change."

He couldn't think of anything to say to that so he tried another topic. "Heard you've been seeing Jeremy Seaton."

"We've had dinner together a couple of times." She sipped her coffee.

He looked at her. "Mind if I ask if there's anything serious in that direction?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly. Thinking. "I would describe my relationship with Jeremy as friendly."

"Friendly." What the hell did friendly mean?

"Jeremy and I have a lot of interests in common."

He nodded once. "The art thing. Jeremy paints."

She gave him polite concern. "Is there a problem here?"

"You tell me." He put his mug down with great care. "Is Jeremy going to have a problem with you and me having dinner tonight?"

"I doubt it." She looked surprised by the question. "But if he says anything, I'll explain the situation to him."

"How, exactly, do you intend to explain it?"

"I'll tell him that we're just friends. He'll understand."

"Just friends," he repeated neutrally.

"What else?" She put down her own mug and looked pointedly at the clock. "Good heavens, it's getting late, isn't it? I have to go into the gallery early tomorrow to frame some of the children's pictures, and I'm sure you're anxious to pick up Carson."

"Kicking me out?"

"It's been a long day," she said by way of an apology and got to her feet.

"Sure." He rose slowly, taking his time.

She handed him his black windbreaker and opened the door for him. Smiling all the while. Friendly.

He went outside onto the front porch. The squall was dying fast, leaving behind crisp, still-damp air.

"Drive carefully," she said.

"I'll do that."

He pulled on his jacket but did not bother to fasten it. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and stood looking out into the night. He could hear the distant rumble of waves crashing against the bottom of the bluffs behind the cottage.

He turned slowly back to Octavia.

In the porch light, her hair glowed the color of the flames on the hearth inside. He could feel the magic that swirled around her.

He'd had enough. He knew now what was wrong with this picture.

"Something you should understand before we go any further here," he said.

"What's that?"

He took two steps back across the porch, closing the distance between them. He kept his hands in the pockets of his jacket, not trusting himself to touch her.

"Whatever else this turns out to be," he said evenly, "it isn't about being just friends."

She blinked. Her lips parted but no words emerged.

Just as well because he did not want to talk.

He kissed her, hands still in his pockets, leaning forward a little to claim her mouth. She did not flinch or step back but he felt the shiver that went through her.

He deepened the kiss deliberately.

Her mouth softened under his. He got the feeling that she was tasting him; testing him, maybe. Or was it herself she was testing?

She made a tiny, unbelievably sexy little sound and his blood ran hot in his veins. His breathing thickened.

He raised his head slowly. Breaking off the kiss required a serious act of willpower.

"Definitely not just friends," he said.

He turned away, went down the steps, and got into his car.

A short time later he drove into the newly paved, heavily landscaped parking lot at Dreamscape and slotted the BMW into the empty space next to Rafe's Porsche. He glanced at his watch as he got out. It was after eleven. The restaurant had been closed for over an hour. The vehicles that remained in the lot belonged to the overnight guests. There were a number of them.

Dreamscape had been an immediate success from the first day of operation. In addition to tourists, the inn drew a steady clientele from the institute and Chamberlain College.

He walked up the steps of the wide veranda that surrounded the lower floor of the inn. The front door opened just as he reached out to lean on the little bell.

"Heard the engine," Rafe said. "Figured it was you." He stood aside to allow Nick into the front hall. "Want some coffee?"

"No, thanks. Just had some." He nodded at the balding, middle-aged man who emerged from the office behind the front desk. "'Evening, Eddie."

"Hello, Nick. Come to collect your boy?"

"Yes."

"How was the hot date with the charming Miss Brightwell?" Rafe asked.

"No comment."

Rafe gave him a commiserating look and closed the door. "That bad, huh? You know, I wondered if she was really your type."

"No comment means no comment. I thought you Madisons were real big on a no-kiss-and-tell policy."

"Hey, we're family now, remember?" Rafe grinned. "I'm just trying to show a little brotherly interest in your personal affairs, that's all."

"Brotherly interest, my ass, you're just-" He broke off at the sight of Hannah appearing in the opening that led to the central corridor and the solarium.

"About time you got here," she said.

"It's not that late," Nick said, feeling oddly defensive. "Just because you old married folks go to bed early doesn't mean the rest of us are obliged to keep the same boring hours."

"Good point." Rafe raised a brow. "It isn't even midnight, Cinderella. What are you doing here this early? I told you we'd be happy to let Carson stay the night if you got lucky."

Hannah turned on Rafe with a withering glare. "You told him that? You actually said something so extremely tacky?"

"He's a Madison," Nick reminded her. "He was born tacky. We can only pray that your classy Harte genes will overpower his unfortunate genetic inheritance when you two decide to start making babies."

Hannah gave him an odd look. Rafe's mouth curved but he refrained from comment. Nick got the feeling he was missing the joke.

"Well?" Hannah said in that tone of voice that meant she was deliberately changing the subject and everyone else had better go along. "How was the date with Octavia? Did you have a nice time? Where did you two have dinner?"

He studied his sister. There was something different about her lately. He hadn't been able to put his finger on it but it was almost as though she harbored a special secret. Marriage definitely agreed with her, he thought. But, then, with the glaring exception of himself, it agreed with Hartes, in general.

"Her place," he said neutrally.

"Oh, man," Rafe muttered. "You went back to her place and she kicked you out before eleven o'clock. Not good." He shook his head. "I'd be happy to give you a little brotherly advice on how to behave yourself on a first date with a nice lady, Harte. Least I could do, you being family and all."

"You can take your helpful dating advice down to the Total Eclipse Bar and Grill and stuff it where the sun don't shine."

"Touchy, are we? Okay, but it's your loss, pal."

He'd had enough, Nick decided. He looked at Hannah. "Got my son?"

"Sound asleep in the library." Her expression softened. "Winston is keeping an eye on him." She hesitated. "He seemed a little concerned about your relationship with Octavia."

"Winston is concerned about my personal life?"