“It’s nicer…but the kitchen’s still just like you. Your grandmother’s hand-painted china and everything in its place, all the cups lined up just so.”

“I’m the same old frantic neatnik,” Anne agreed. “So how long have you been back in town?” she asked casually.

“Since late this afternoon. Just long enough to find out where you were, pick up the Morgan from Gramps, and get to Link’s party.” He set both cups on the table, but didn’t seem interested in drinking from his own. He was still trying to undress. Not that Anne didn’t understand that Jake had an honest antipathy for formal attire, but one could stretch understanding only so far. His shoes and tie had been off when she came in; somehow the jacket was off now. Jake was looking very, very comfortable as he leaned back against the counter, his shirt cuffs folded back, the silver hair on his chest showing in the V of his open shirt. All settled in. He had the wolf’s ability to move slowly and lazily when he was clearly up to no good.

Anne settled in a chair and lifted her coffee cup. “Either you heave your suitcase out the back door onto the porch, or I will,” she said pleasantly.

He chuckled. “Did you get all the presents I sent you?”

“I mean it. You can’t just come back here-”

“In a minute, Anne. Meanwhile, what on earth are you doing living alone?” Jake asked conversationally.

“The same thing you are. Being very happy in my own way.”

“I counted at least twelve men at the party who would have been happy to convince you otherwise.”

“Thirteen,” she said mildly. Her palms curled around the warm cup, suddenly needing that warmth. “I only counted one brunette and one redhead in your corner, but then you weren’t there more than an hour. Either one, I’m sure, will be happy to store your suitcase for the night.”