Then he saw Paige. Her body was a faint diagonal line under the comforter and her hair was strewn over the patchwork, camouflaged, but it was her, no doubt this time. His body was telling him so as surely as his eyes, though precious little of her was exposed. The comforter crowded under her jawline.

He couldn't begin to guess what she had on.

Drawn closer, he studied her face. It was pale clean, vulnerable in sleep. Her hair looked as thouvh it had been damp when she had fallen into bed.

It was a riot of waves. He smoothed several back from her cheek, then, unable to resist, returned to touch the smooth skin. Then the straight line of her nose. Then her mouth. Her breathing was slow and far more even than his.

Her eyelids were still.

He sat down on the bed. Still she didn't waken.

He thought of the time she had just spent at the hospital, hours that had to have been brutal, and felt a swell of respect. He also felt respect for Nonny, who had raised an irresponsible daughter's daughter to be eminently responsible.

He felt another swell, this time a physical one centered in his groin.

The attraction was strong. It was chemical, had been so from the first, and the more he saw of her, the stronger it became. The time they had been together, way back in Mara's yard, seemedEa dream now.

Or maybe it was because he had dreamed it so many other times that the first was just blending in.

He kissed her temple and waited. When she didn't respond, he kissed her eye, then her cheek, lingering there to enjoy the fresh scent of her skin. Tendril by tendril, he trained her hair back over the pillow. He traced the sculpted line of her ear. He slid his fingers under the comforter and let them soak up the warmth of her neck.

She gave a soft hum of pleasure. He moved his fingers lightly.

Her eyes flickered open. They focused straight ahead, then shifted slowly to Noah.

She seemed disoriented, asleep with her eyes open, but he didn't give a damn. Her mouth looked too soft, too sweet, to resist. He lowered his head and kissed it. He ran his tongue around it. He nibbled on her lower lip, sucked it, caressed it.

A soft sound came from her throat. She had closed her eyes, but her mouth was his for the taking, and he was too hungry to abstain. He took it in its entirety, devouring it wetly, using his tongue to I explore what was inside.

She made the same soft sound, accompanied by the beginnings of response. Her breathing was no longer as steady. Her mouth clung to his.

He framed her chin with his hand, then slid it lower, under the comforter, then the sheet.

The , route was paved with bare flesh, silky and warm, rising and falling with the sough of her breath. He found her breast and caressed it, drew her nipple hard between his fingers, then pulled the comforter back only enough to put his mouth where his hand had been.

This time it was a cry, a soft but needy one, then the sound of his name on her breath.

Her body was swelling, arching to his. She repeated the cry when he drew her nipple deeply into his mouth.

Rising up, he braced himself over her face.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips moist. Her eyes were open again, disoriented now in an eddy of pleasure. He slipped a hand under the sheet, lower over her abdomen, until he found what he sought.

She gasped.

ZShhhhh." He covered her mouth and ate at it in time with the motion of his hand. He swallowed her breath when it came faster, then her cries when they rose, when her body went tight and seconds later shook with a powerful release.

He was slow in retrieving his hand and then brought it up, fingers spread wide to feel everything he could before he withdrew. Her breasts were Ught, her nipples hard. She pressed her hands over his to hold them there until, it seemed, reality hit. Then she made a sound that held more than a touch of embarrassment and rolled over, away from him and so far under the comforter that nothing showed but the top of her head.

Noah wanted to talk. He wanted to tell her not to be embarrassed, that her pleasure was his, that the release was good for her. He wanted to give her another one. Mostly he wanted to strip down, join her under the covers, and bury himself deep, deep inside her until nothing remained of the outside world but bits and fragments of memory.

But the outside world was still there. He could hear it moving over his head and guessed that he had Nonny to thank for keeping Sara occupied. Which was nice, but not overly responsible on his part.

Reluctantly he rose from the bed. He straightened and took several deep breaths, grateful just then that Paige was buried under her comforter so that she wouldn't see the shape of his pants. In the bathroom, he tossed cold water on his face, but between the bra that lay with her discarded clothes, the damp towel on the rack, and the scented soap that was so thoroughly reminiscent of her skin, his body tightened again.

Back in the bedroom, he stood at the window and studied the backyard.

With the loss of leaves from the birches and maples, the conifers captured the limelight in the late afternoon sun. Soon that sun would be lower and weaker. Soon snow would cover the firs.

Soon the Board of Trustees would be picking a permanent Head of School and Noah's time at Tucker would be done.

It occurred to him that the place wasn't all that bad. But some things were written in the stars, and this was one. He was destined to head a great school. Not Mount Court.

A glance over his shoulder told him that Paige romnino mflor the comforter, and just then the Isefcond-floor sounds picked up. Taking his cue he Paige dreamed of things so seductive and passionate and downright erotic that she awoke in a sweat. The room was dark. She was alone. It was a minute before her body stopped trembling, a minute before the reality of her exhaustion and its cause hit her, and then she brushed her hair back with a forearm and moaned.

The clock glowed a green ten twenty-two. She figured she had been sleeping for more than seven hours and had every intention of going for another seven, but in this short break she thought of Jill and her baby and all the others who'd been hurt. Life was fragile, taken for granted day to day, but such a tenuous thing. Paige's own parents had had that close call in an airplane, but how many close calls had there been in automobiles? Or walking along streets? Or sitting, oblivious of danger, in theaters whose structural stability was in doubt?

She thought of coming home that afternoon to Nonny and Sami, and then there were visions of Noahhad he been there or had she simply dreamed him? Months before she had thought her life rewardingshe still thought it sobut these new elements fit into it with frightening ease.

Fragile. Tenuous. Happiness that could get a firm grip, then tear your flesh away when it left. Was it truly better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? She didn't know. The pain of wantIng things one couldn't have was devastating. It was sometimes better to push them from mind and pretend that they just didn't exist.

So much for dreams. Reality was harder to ignore Reality, just then, was tens of patients for whom Paige was no longer responsible but whom she wanted to visit. Reality was a thriving group practice meant for four, with only three left and working double time. Reality was Nonny, who was seventy-six going on fifty, and Sami, who was sixteen months going on twelve months.

Reality was a cross-country team to coach every afternoon, and a baby-sitter to heal, and too few hours in the The exhaustion of it put Paige back to sleep, but she awoke the next morning knowing that of the four doctors coming to Tucker to interview that week, one of them had better be good.

One was. Her name was Cynthia Wales. After completing her residency in pediatrics, she had spent four years on the staff at Children's Hospital in Boston, but she was an outdoorswoman. She wanted to be closer to mountains and rivers, and she wanted the less pressured practice that would grant her time to explore them. Best of all, she had come to interview at the start of a two-week vacation and was willing to postpone that vacation and start working right away.

Cynthia was an easy sell. Paige, who got glowing reports from colleagues who had worked with her and felt the sheer energy level of the woman, liked her from the start. Likewise Angie, who was looking to spend more time at home. Ironically, after pushing to hire someone, Peter was hesitant.

"What bothers you?" Paige asked him.

He was looking everywhere but at her. "I don't know."

"Her credentials are impressive," Paige coaxed. She didn't think it was a power play on Peter's part. He looked legitimately bewildered.

"There's something about her," he tried, sounding _ pained, then defeated. "No, maybe it has nothing to do with her."

"She isn't Mara."

"No." He cracked his knuckles. "She isn't."

Paige was grateful that he could finally admit it. She didn't know what he remembered of the night he'd been drunk, but he had been less critical of Mara ever since.

"She isn't Mara," Paige repeated, "but she may be wonderful with our families. Why don't we give her a try? You said it yourself, Peter.

We have to move on."

He met her gaze then and sighed. "You're right Let's do it."