She shot him a gentle smile that said she understood.

“We kind of wanted it to be a surprise, but it was hard to buy a surprise house, since we wanted them to like it. Colin’s the money guy though, so he was able to get it all going. The idea was his in the first place. He mentioned it to me once when we were shooting hoops. And, back to your question, sometimes it seems like I’m closest to him. He’s the youngest, and Michael’s kind of taken on a fatherly role. Colin and I feel more like we’re equal brothers. With Michael, sometimes it feels like he still thinks he has to look out for all of us, even though he’s only two years older.”

Sophie laughed. “Let me tell you, I completely understand that older brothers can be a total pain in the ass,” she said with a knowing smile, and he matched her grin. Something was changing between them now that the veil of secrecy had been removed. Her brother had once been the cause of a rift, and now she was able to make a joke about the guy.

He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not going to touch that with a ten-foot pole. I’ll keep your brother out of this, so I don’t get in trouble again with the woman I want.”

“You’re not in trouble at all,” she said, returning to her pizza.

“Now about that peach pie. It was your mom’s recipe. Was she a baker?”

She shook her head. “She was a teacher. But she was an amazing ‘pie mistress,’” she said, stopping to sketch air quotes. “That’s what my dad called her.”

“And he ran the fruit stand?”

She nodded. “What about your dad?”

“Cab driver, then a limo driver. For the last year, he was going to night school. Taking some accounting classes to try to get a better job. Mom was a seamstress,” he said finishing off another slice. “And, don’t laugh, but she had a dream to make dog jackets.” He glanced over at Johnny Cash lying on the floor. “She’d probably make one for him if she could. But they don’t let inmates have sewing machines in prison,” he said, the corner of his lips quirking up. For the first time in ages he’d managed to make a joke about his sad family history.

After they cleaned up, he pointed to the shopping bag with the dress in it in the living room. “I’m thinking now would be a great time for you to show me that peach dress.”

“I would love to give you a fashion show.”

She retreated to his bedroom, and while she was changing, he programmed in soft music on his stereo, hunting for the kind of songs she might like. He remembered “Fly Me to the Moon” was her ringtone. She might not want to hear that one again, so he chose another Sinatra number and let the crooner’s voice float through his house. He dimmed the lights in the living room. Stars winked on and off through the windowpane.

“What do you think?”

He turned around to see Sophie twirl for him, then stop and strike a pose. She looked extraordinary in a white pinup dress with a peach pattern, and the silver shoes she’d picked up at the Grand Canal shops.

“That you look edible. But I’m not going there just yet. For now, I want to do what we did on our first date,” he said, walking over to her and running his fingers through her soft, blond hair. She lifted her chin to look at him.

The look in her eyes just plain melted him as he wrapped his arms around her. He’d never seen a person so happy as Sophie simply to dance with him on the hardwood floors of his living room, as Sinatra crooned.

“I liked talking to you,” he said, his lips brushing her hair.

“I liked listening to you,” she said as they swayed.

“You make it easy.”

“It shouldn’t have to be hard. This,” she said, and he knew what she meant by “this.”

“Us,” he echoed. “And it’s not hard. It’s incredible.”

* * *

As he held her, she flashed back to some of her sweetest memories, her most potent images of love—her parents slow dancing together at night, and her mother’s words, too. “Make time for kisses, and meals, and each other, and dance under the stars and to the music, and dream together.”

This was her dream, and she was close, closer than she’d ever been, to having it.

* * *

Lick. Lick. Lick.

The next morning, a long tongue slurping across her cheek greeted Sophie. Yawning, she opened her eyes to find a black-and-white Border Collie kissing her face and wagging his tail.

He whimpered lightly, and Sophie glanced at a sleeping Ryan. He was flat on his stomach, face pressed into a pillow, an arm slung over his head.

She turned back to Johnny Cash. “Want to go outside?” she whispered, and he thumped his tail on the floor at the last word.

She slipped out of bed, and headed to the sliding glass door. The door was locked with a regular latch and a deadbolt. It took her a few seconds to wiggle them free, but she managed, and the dog shot out, racing across the grass and lifting his leg on a tree in the far corner of the yard.

For a very…long…time.

Pale pink fingers of light streaked across the morning sky as the sun rose. Taking a deep breath, savoring the fresh scent of a new day, Sophie soaked in the scene before her. Waking up at Ryan’s house, spending the weekend with him, exploring all that they felt for each other had been a day and night of rapture, of passion, and, most of all, of connection.

Fine, it had been only one night, but she knew with both her heart and her analytical mind that Ryan Sloan was changing. He was opening up. He was sharing.

For her.

She practically giggled at the thought as she watched his dog finish his business then tear across the yard and conduct some morning recon with his snout, checking out the fence, perusing the edge of the pool, and sniffing some bushes. She felt bubbly, effervescent even, because she was close to having that elusive thing she’d craved for so long. For her whole damn life. The very gem she’d hunted for and thought she’d found with Holden, only to be proven wrong by the lack of spark. With Holden, she’d let friendship lead, and in return she’d gotten a great friendship. But with Ryan, she let lust, hormones, and desire start the engine. She’d taken a chance by inviting him to the gala without knowing him. That was a risk, but it had paid off. Then she’d nearly lost out the other night.

But he’d reappeared and had come to the table ready. She didn’t need to peer into his mind, but she was thrilled by the glimpses of his heart and soul that he’d been offering. She felt special, she felt admired, and she felt madly desired. To have this kind of crazy, kinky, dirty sex with a man she was falling for…it was like finding a diamond on the side of the road.

It was almost too good to be true, and for a brief moment, her heart seized up. What if it all fell to pieces? What if this was just a bubble? A weekend of bliss and loveliness that would be punctured at midnight?

Ryan’s dog raced to her side, and Sophie pushed those thoughts away as she headed inside. After a quick bathroom trip to freshen her breath, she returned to the kitchen and decided breakfast for her man would be a fine idea. She rolled her eyes at the contents of his fridge—it was pure single guy. Beer. Mustard. A loaf of bread. She scanned the shelves and drawers for bacon, certain she’d find some. Personally, she couldn’t stand it. But what bachelor didn’t like bacon?

She found none.

At least he had a carton of eggs and some butter, so she set to work whipping up some scrambled eggs, and as she turned off the stove, a sleepy and sexy Ryan padded out of the bedroom with rumpled hair and a cute yawn.

“Is this a dream? Or are you really waking me up with a homemade breakfast?”

He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist as she served the eggs. He planted a sweet kiss on her neck, and his breath was minty fresh. “It’s real,” she said. “If this were a dream, there would surely be bacon. I bet you love bacon.”