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Clover used Sonya’s phone for the Beatles’ “I Me Mine.”

“Yeah, that was you.” Gently, Sonya touched the frame of Clover’s portrait. “Maybe… maybe she taunted Patricia somehow, went too far, and it backfired. That’s what makes the most sense.”

“And now what makes the most sense is for me to go up and read myself to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, Sonya. Probably not you, Trey, but tomorrow night?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Night, Cleo, and we should bring the dogs in.”

At the doorway, before she turned off the light in the music room, Sonya took one last look at the portraits—thought of the past, thought of the future.

Then she turned off the lights and focused on now.

The dogs rushed in as happily as they’d rushed out—and a lot more sloppy.

While they dried wet paws, Sonya opened what she considered the next door with Trey.

“I want to say a couple things to you.”

His eyebrows lifted as he glanced at her. “Okay.”

“First, you have a key to the manor. I don’t want you to feel you have to ring the bell. You can just use your key. And next…”

She rose, started to walk with him and the dogs through the house.

“If you wanted, you could leave a few things here so you don’t haveto pack a bag whenever you stay. I’m not saying all this to box you in. I just—”

“I already built the box for myself,” he interrupted, and took her hand. “It’s a nice box. It’s roomy.”

She tipped her head toward his shoulder. “So I can fit in there, too?”

“It’s a nice box,” he repeated as they started up the stairs. “There’s a lid if it starts to crowd you.”

“You said it was roomy,” she reminded him. “And it feels like a really good fit.”

They walked into her sitting room, through to her bedroom. As the dogs headed straight to the bed they shared on visits, Sonya closed the bedroom door, leaned back against it.

“Leave a few things, Trey. I’ve got plenty of space in here, and in my life.”

“I’ll leave a few things.” He set down the bag, stepped to her. “Because I want that space in here, and in your life.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” She lifted her arms, circled them around his neck. “I’m always glad when you’re here.”

When their mouths met, the hunger leaped in her, so fast, so fierce it stunned her.

She wanted this, the physical, wanted him to stir up all those needs until they boiled over and burned them both.

As if sensing it, he pressed his body to hers, trapping her against the door while the kiss leaped from hungry to desperate.

Raw need, she realized. For whatever reason, tonight the need ran raw in both of them. Surrendering to it, she took her arms from around him long enough to struggle out of her jacket. As their mouths took and took, she rushed to unbutton his shirt.

And moaned in pleasure as she stripped the shirt away to find warm flesh, hard body.

He yanked down the zipper at the back of her dress.

The dress fell, and before she could step out of it, his hands were everywhere. With none of his usual patience, those hands demanded, possessed, aroused until those raw needs boiled over.

Until she felt the burn she’d craved.