Luara's mother coughed from the kitchen, a discreet warning that the house was not an arena, and Luara glanced quickly down the hallway.

“It's time to go.”

Rayder took the bouquet back, hesitated, and then placed it back on the dresser.

“This one stays. The last one of the day.”

“Leave it. Tomorrow I'll need an extra table just to accommodate the regrets,” she said, without irony in her tone, just a statement of fact.

He backed up to the door, but ...