"Morning."

Cilla was glad she was able to speak. She put the pan from the scones in the sink and turned around, almost afraid of what she would see. Did he regret last night? Well, he wouldn't have greeted her this way if he had, right? Slowly, she turned around. When she did, he was so close to her only a sheet of paper could have slid between them. The same heat she'd seen in his eyes last night was there today, flaming in his melted-chocolate irises.

He studied her ...