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Horns and sirens heralded the new day below. A child’s laughter echoed from the street. Beneath the feather comforter, she couldn’t remember feeling snuggled so safely, so securely. Her cheek seemed embedded in Will’s shoulder. Her arm was loosely, possessively, draped around his bare waist. His chest hair nuzzled her very warm, very bare breasts.
    But none of those things were what woke her up.
    Guilt woke her up.
    Huge, sharp, ear-drumming, shame-sucking heaps of guilt.
    Silent as sin, she inched out from under the covers—praying not to wake Will—and then tiptoed, shivering, into the hall. Her two suitcases and carry-on were still lying in a jumble by the front door, but right then, she only had one thing on her mind and it wasn’t remotely her stuff.
    Grabbing a towel from the bathroom to cover herself, she hustled into the living room, grabbed the telephone and found a spot to sit upon the carpet behind the couch.
    She dialed Jason.
    The phone rang.
    And rang.
    And then rang some more.
    She hated using Will’s phone, partly because she’d have yet another bill to clock up on Will’s balance sheet, and partly because it just seemed the height of wrong. But without her purse or her cell phone or any of her phone cards, there was no other choice. And this call wouldn’t wait another minute. Another second.
    But there was no answer, even after seven rings. She hung up, bit her lip, then dialed the number all over again.
    It was seven hours earlier in South Bend. That meant it was somewhere around two in the morning there. Heaven knows, she didn’t want to wake Jason up, but she needed to reach him. Now. And at this hour, he simply had to be in their new apartment, asleep.
    Where else would he be on an early Saturday morning? Even if he’d gone out with the guys, he’d have been home hours before this.
    On the ninth ring, she clicked off again, frustrated and anxious, but she just couldn’t quit. Surely he was just sleeping hard. Sooner or later he’d hear the ring.
    She started punching in the numbers again until she suddenly noted a tousled blond head peering at her from over the couch. “I don’t know if the customs have changed in America, but over here, we’re allowed to sit in a regular chair to make a call,” Will said, his voice thick from sleep. She could hear his amusement.
    â€œI was trying not to make noise. I didn’t want to wake you up. I was just calling…” She almost said my mother, but the lie stuck in her throat. She’d committed enough sins in the past twenty-four hours. She couldn’t add another one to the mound. She sighed. “My fiancé.”
    Will’s eyes narrowed as if he were sighting in a rifle. “I thought I recognized that strange expression on your face. Guilt. Which is completely wasted, Kelly. Whoever that guy is, you were never going to marry him.”
    â€œI was. I was.”
    â€œSee? You said it in the past tense. You already know he wasn’t remotely right for you.”
    If she wasn’t a lady—and if she wasn’t struggling with both hands and a phone to keep covered by the towel—she’d have smacked him. “But I thought he was right. Last week.”
    â€œCan’t help that,” Will said heartlessly.
    â€œEven two days ago I thought he was!”
    â€œCan’t help that, either. Good thing you found out, though, huh? Before you got tied up with a guy who was totally wrong for you?” His face disappeared from sight. “I’m headed in the kitchen to make some coffee, so you’re welcome to the shower first. By the time you’re done, I should have some scrambled eggs ready. That is, assuming you’re not still hiding behind the couch.”
    â€œI am not hiding.”
    A few minutes later, when she was locked in his bathroom, standing under the shower, which was more a sultry trickle than the exuberant water