She laughed hard. You're really funny, Lucio, she told him.

He rose from his squat, sighing a little as he stretched. You have worn me out, bonita, he said, patting HeatherLynn's head before he stood. And you have made me ravenous. Let's eat and you can tell me more about your island fantasy, yes?

The front door flew open. It was Josh and Jason. Ginger figured she had about six seconds before they reached the kitchen, so it would have to be a quick inventory: Lucio was bare-chested and barefoot, but at least he was wearing his jeans; she was covered with a cotton knee-length robe and nothing else, but at least it was belted; there were no visible signs of their earthshaking sexual rampage, at least not in the kitchen.

God help her if the boys saw inside her bedroom.

Hey, Mumu! Josh waved at her as he lumbered across the foyer. The boys couldn't see Lucio, who was out of the line of sight, frozen, his eyes large.

Jason was right behind Josh. I know it's early but Dad had us working all night, cleaning up from the earthquake. His garage was trashed and

This was the moment of truth. Ginger's boys had never seen her with a man other than their father. Not even a date to the movies or someone picking her up for dinner. But here she was, in the kitchen at five a.m., with a half-naked man who'd obviously spent the whole night in her bed.

What would her kids say? How would they react? Would they be angry at her? Would they feel betrayed or jealous?

Lucio! they yelled in unison, screeching to a halt as they cleared the kitchen doorway.

Lucio smiled at them. Good morning, gentlemen.

As the instant of surprise passed, Ginger watched for how their expressions would change, what their faces would reveal. Her heart raced. A few more seconds ticked by.

Then Jason sniffed the air. He and Josh looked at each other like they couldn't believe their luck.

Are you making pancakes, man? Joshua asked, his head jutting out in front of his neck like a cartoon character.

Blueberry. Lucio said. Would you care to join us?

The twins hooted, jumped, and gave each other a series of high fives and chest bumps, a ritual usually reserved for televised sports.

Dude! Can you make some bacon, too? Jason had already opened the refrigerator meat drawer. Hey, Mom, do we have syrup? Should I go borrow some of Dad's?

Smiling weakly, Ginger moved her gaze across the kitchen to Lucio. He looked at her over his shoulder, his dark eyes filled with warmth, humor, and something more.

Almost immediately, she felt it. The something more began to swirl in the air above them, invisible and silent as it looped through Ginger and into Lucio and back again. Lucio nodded gently, indicating he felt it, too.

It was all too much, she decided. It was way too soon. This was not what she'd intended and she was pretty sure it wasn't what Lucio expected, either. That soft smile on his handsome face had to be a mask for the panic he must be feeling. It was one thing to promise a new girlfriend that you'd stick around and get to know her, but it was a different thing altogether when the girlfriend's kids adored you and her dog worshipped you. Add to the mix one broken condom and the obvious fact that the girlfriend herself had fallen madly, deeply in love with you and never wanted you to leave her side, and you really had something to panic about.

Ginger squeezed her eyes shut at the realization. She'd fallen in love with Lucio Montevez, the shirtless, spatula-wielding Spaniard in her kitchen.

And he knew it!

Ginger opened her eyes and rose from the kitchen chair. She placed an excited HeatherLynn on the floor. She took a deep breath. Wow! she said perkily, addressing the crowd as she already started her exit. I'll be back in just a jiffy, then!

She raced up the stairs, telling herself she could handle this. She only thought she was in love. Yes! That was it! Obviously, it was hormonal. The beginnings of menopause had things jumbled up in there already, and then she went and surprised the hell out of her forty-year-old body by having the best sex of her life! At forty! She wasn't even sure that was medically advisable! Of course, now her brain was swimming in an unnatural hormonal soup. No wonder she'd convinced herself she was in love!

Ginger scurried along the upstairs hallway, planning her next moves. First, she'd get dressed. Next, she'd tidy up her bedroom. Then she'd get Lucio's shirt for him. All that activity would surely give her time to screw her head on straight.

Please, help yourself. Take anything that you think you might need. Piers picked his way through his crowded spare bedroom, eventually reaching the doors of the walk-in closet, which turned out to be stockpiled with even more lock stands, reflectors, light meters, old camera bodies, lenses, teleconverters, ball heads, filters, shipping containers, some of it remnants of a predigital age.

Lucio examined the contents of the shelves, then studied the room, piled to the ceiling in some places with photo equipment and accessories. Have you never sold anything, Piers? Not given anything away? Do you still have every piece of equipment you've ever owned?

Piers chuckled. Well, you know, Sylvie and I have been in this apartment for ten years now. It's easy to become a packrat when you keep the same home base. Piers picked up an old handheld eight-millimeter camera and smiled sadly, turning it over in his hand. Some of this stuff is Sylvie's, you know. He set it back down. Like I said, help yourself.

I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it, Piers. Lucio examined a large aluminum reflector that was folded down in a corner. I am going to take pictures outside whenever possible, but I know I'll end up doing some studio work. He poked through the shelves, finding a few other things that might come in handy. I will have to buy a decent high-key backdrop.

I used to own one, but it's at Sylvie's parents' house in Devon.

Ah, well. Like I said, I will have to invest in one. Lucio stopped his perusal of shelves when a huge padded shipping envelope caught his eye. It was addressed to Piers, in Piers's own handwriting, and the postal stamp was from January. It had to have been Piers's submission for the Erskine Prize, Lucio knew. The committee would review an entry and send it back when it did not place. Lucio knew all about the process. He'd lost fourteen years in a row before he ever won.

May I look? Lucio asked, tapping the package. It was a request he wouldn't have dared make with most other colleagues. Photographers could be a competitive bunch, and many would not be comfortable showing their contest portfolio to someone who took the same kind of pictures. But he and Piers had never had that barrier between them.

Of course you can see it, Piers said.

Lucio pulled the leather-bound case from the envelope and opened it. Like his own portfolio, Piers's submission would have had to include ten pictures, one per category, representing at least ten of the fifteen categories determined by the board. The Erskine Prize was designed to show a photographer's rangefrom wide-angle views of an entire ecosystem to close-ups of plants, animals, and miniature landscapes as seen through a macro lens.

His friend's work was elegant and inventive. Lucio took a moment to carefully study Piers's submission in the category for naturally occurring texture, pattern, color, or form. This is outstanding, Lucio said, admiring the complexities of the Gobi Desert at sunset. Piers's unusual perspective and precise timing had captured an illusion, where the rippling sand seemed to morph into the waves of an ocean.

That was my only overseas trip last year, Piers said, his head nodding toward the photo Lucio held in his hands. I could not travel much because of Sylvie's illness.