“No, and I’ve kept you long enough anyway.”

“You can keep me as long as you want.” He took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Maybe you’d come down to the pub tonight. I’ll buy you a drink to celebrate.”

“I’m not sure what I’m celebrating, but I might do that.” Anticipating him, she stepped back. “Murphy, I didn’t come here to wrestle in the kitchen.”

“I never said you did.”

“You’re getting that look in your eyes,” she muttered. “And that’s my clue to leave.”

“My hands are clean now, so I wouldn’t muss you up if I kissed you.”

“I’m not worried about being mussed, I’m worried about being . . . never mind. Just keep your hands where I can see them. I mean it.”

Obliging, he lifted them palms out, then felt his heart turn over when she rose on her toes and kissed his cheek.

“Thanks for the tea, and the shoulder.”

“You’re welcome to either, anytime.”

She sighed and made herself back up another step. “I know. You make it hard to be sensible.”

“If you’ve a mind to be insensible, Feeney can wait.”

She had to laugh. No man had ever asked her to bed with quite such style. “Go back to work, Murphy. I think I’m in the mood to paint.”

She went out the back, accustomed now to the way over the fields.

“Shannon Bodine.”

“Yes.” Laughing again, she turned, walking backward as she watched him come out the kitchen door.

“Will you paint something for me? Something that reminds you of me?”

“I might.” She tossed up a hand in a wave, swiveled on her heel, and hurried away toward Blackthorn.

In the rear gardens of the inn Kayla napped in a folding crib near the flowering almond Murphy had planted for her. Her mother was weeding the perennial bed nearby, and her father was doing his level best to talk Brianna into indoor activities.

“The place is empty.” Gray trailed his fingers down Brianna’s arm. “All the guests are off sightseeing. The kid’s asleep.” He inched a little closer to nibble at the back of Brianna’s neck, encouraged by her quick shiver of reaction. “Come to bed, Brianna.”

“I’ve work.”

“The flowers aren’t going anywhere.”

“Neither are the weeds.” Her system went haywire as he skimmed the tip of his tongue along her skin. “Ah, look. I nearly pulled an aster. Go away now, and—”

“I love you, Brianna.” He caught her hands, pressing his lips to the back of each.

Heart and body melted. “Oh, Grayson.” Her eyes fluttered closed when he rubbed his lips persuasively over hers. “We can’t. Shannon could be back any time.”

“Uh-oh. Do you think she’s guessed where Kayla came from?”

“That’s not the point.” But her arms were twining around his neck.

He slipped the first pin from her hair. “What is the point?”

She’d been sure she had one, a very simple, very valid point. “I love you, Grayson.”

Strolling into the yard, Shannon stopped short. Her first reaction was amused embarrassment at having stumbled across a very private scene. The next, tripping over the first, was interest.

It was a lovely, romantic picture, she mused. The infant sleeping under a pale pink blanket, the flowers blooming, clothes blowing on the line in the background. And the man and woman, kneeling on the grass, wrapped in each other.

A pity, she thought, she didn’t have a sketch pad.

She must have made some sound, as Brianna shifted, saw her, and blushed rosily.

“Sorry. ’Bye.”

“Shannon.” Even as Shannon turned away, Brianna was struggling free. “Don’t be silly.”

“Go ahead,” Gray corrected when Shannon hesitated. “Be silly. Scram.”

“Grayson!” Shocked, Brianna batted his hands away and rose. “We—I was just weeding the pansies.”

Shannon stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Oh, I could see that. I’m going to take a walk.”

“You’ve just had a walk.”

“So, let her take another one.” Gray got up, wrapped an arm around Brianna’s waist, and sent Shannon a meaningful look. “A really long one.” Ignoring his wife’s half-hearted struggles, he plucked another pin from her hair. “Better yet, take my car. You can—” He let out a groan when Kayla began to whimper.

“She needs her nappie changed.” Brianna slipped away to go to the crib. Amused, and feeling wonderfully wanted, she smiled over at her husband as she lifted the baby. “You might put some of that energy into weeding, Grayson. I still have pies to bake.”

“Right.” With obvious regret he watched his wife, and his hopes for an intimate hour, slip out of his reach. “Pies to bake.”

“Sorry.” Shannon lifted her shoulders when Brianna took the baby inside. “Lousy timing.”

“You’re telling me.” He hooked an arm around her neck. “Now you have to help me weed.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Companionably she settled on the grass beside him. “I take it none of the guests are around.”

“Off to various points of interest. We heard your news. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I guess. I’m still a little shell-shocked. Rogan has a way of slipping around and through and over objections until you’re just nodding and agreeing to everything he says.”

“He does.” Intrigued, Gray studied her profile. “You’d have objections to being associated with Worldwide?”

“No. I don’t know.” She moved her shoulders restlessly. “It came out of the blue. I like to be prepared for things. I already have a career.” Which, she realized with a jolt, she hadn’t given a thought to in weeks. “I’m used to deadlines, and a quick pace, the confusion of working in a busy organization. Paintings, this kind of painting, is solitary and motivated by mood rather than marketing.”

“Being used to one way of life doesn’t mean you can’t change gears, if the reward’s big enough.” He glanced toward the kitchen window. “It depends on what you want, and how much you want it.”