“I always meant to be tall," she told him. "Somehow I never got around to it."

“I wasn't aware it wasn't something you could get around to. I thought it just happened."

“Or not." She unzipped the bag and pulled out a silver wire basket. "Thanks for the help. Would you like some coffee?"

“Sure." He led the way back into the kitchen. While he leaned against the counter, she ran hot water into the carafe, then drained it and wiped it dry. After filling it with coffee, she turned back to him. "Cream and sugar?"

“Just black."

“The scones should be ready in about five minutes. I had planned to make you an omelette this morning. Ham? Cheese? Mushrooms?" Last night he'd barely noticed her. What he remembered had been someone female, tired and strangely dressed. He had a vague recollection of spiky blond hair. Now he saw that Stephanie Wynne was a petite blonde with wide blue eyes and a full mouth that turned up at the corners. She wore her short hair in a sleek style that left her ears and neck bare. Tailored black slacks and a slightly snug sweater showed him that despite the small package, everything was where it needed to be. She was pretty.

And he'd noticed.

Nash tried to figure out the last time he'd noticed a woman-any woman-enough to classify her as pretty, ugly or something in between. Not for two years, he decided, knowing that figuring out the date hadn't been much of a stretch.

“Don't bother with eggs," he said. "Coffee and the scones are fine." He glanced at the tray. "And the fruit." Stephanie frowned. "The room comes with a full breakfast. Aren't you hungry?" More than he'd been in a while, but less than he should have been. "Maybe tomorrow," he said instead.

A timer on the stove beeped softly. Stephanie picked up two mitts and pulled open the oven door.

The scent of baked goods got stronger. Nash inhaled the fragrance of orange and lemon.