“You know darn well I don’t mean that,” she chided. “What about Marissa?”

“My God, I haven’t seen you in a long time,” he said dryly as he took a long drink of the wine.

“So you’ve taken up the hunt again?” Erica shook her head, feeling a mixture of sympathy and exasperation with him. “I thought you were almost talking rings a few months ago.”

Morgan shifted to a standing position and poured them both a second glass of wine. When he turned back to Erica the teasing was gone from his eyes and he looked tired, the crow’s-feet prominent at the corners of his eyes. “There’s not much point in getting married when the chances of divorce are edging toward fifty percent, now, is there?” he asked idly. “My married friends aren’t exactly advertisements for wedded bliss-you two are the only exception. At times I don’t know what I’d do without the pair of you. Since you moved, I’ve felt as if my oasis has been ripped out from under me; your home was the only place I could go to get out of the rat race.” He laughed shortly. “Sometimes I’ve wondered, Erica, if you offer everyone the chance to pour out their troubles to you, or is it just me?”

“Trouble, Morgan?” she asked gently. The brooding quality in his voice immediately aroused her maternal instinct. She had no doubt that across a boardroom Morgan was a solid and ruthless adversary, but when he came to stay with them he always had a stray-cat quality. His life was one long howl at night, with lonely silences in between. He always picked women who were takers, as he was, but Erica had the unaccountable notion that a single long stroke down his back would soothe the ruffled fur that seemed a by-product of his frantic lifestyle.

“I look at you and Kyle,” he said frankly, “and I’m jealous. I’ve always been jealous. The way Kyle just picked up and moved, chucked everything on a whim. I wouldn’t choose this lifestyle, but that’s not the point. It’s the inner freedom, the courage to just get out and do it. Change. Even if it’s only short term.”