She showered, then wrapped her hair in a towel while she applied the barest touch of makeup. Tinted moisturizer, mascara, lip gloss. After dressing in her Eggs ’n’ Stuff uniform, she ran the blow-dryer until she’d passed from wet to damp, then combed her hair and put it in a quick ponytail. At four-thirty, she walked into the kitchen and inhaled the scent of brewing coffee.

Whoever had invented timers on coffee machines deserved an award, or, at the very least, a star named in his or her honor. As Elissa reached for a mug, she heard a very distinct thump from overhead.

The sound was loud and out of place. The moan that followed made her shiver.

Something was going on upstairs. Something she should ignore. Except there was a second thump and a louder moan.

What if Walker had fallen and hurt himself? He looked to be in too good a shape for that, but he could have slipped or fallen while drunk.

She hesitated between not wanting to get involved and knowing she couldn’t leave Zoe until she knew everything was all right. After quickly checking on her daughter, who was still sleeping soundly, Elissa grabbed her trusty baseball bat from the hall closet and hurried upstairs.

She knocked briskly, then announced herself in case he was in the throes of some war-induced hallucination. She didn’t want him to shoot or maim her in his confusion.

When he didn’t answer right away, she knocked again, louder this time, then winced as the sharp sound cut through the quiet of the night.

Finally the door opened. Walker stood there wearing nothing but rumpled pj bottoms. His chest was bare, he needed a shave, and for once his eyes weren’t hiding his feelings. He was amused as hell.

“So much for not wanting to get into my bed,” he said.

She glared at him. “You were thunking and moaning. It’s four-thirty in the morning. What was I supposed to think?”

The humor faded. “Seriously?” he asked.

“I do not make this stuff up.”