The sunrises, with all their warm golden beauty, had brought memories of Em. He’d dreaded them at first. Each morning reminded him that another day had come, and Emily would not be living it. Later, the warmth the sun brought had been a benediction, a reminder that he had another opportunity to become a better man.

The sunsets, however, had always belonged to Pel. The darkening sky and the welcoming blanket of night that disregarded his imperfections-that was Isabel, who never pried. The sensuality of a bed, and the moments when he could release the stress of the day-that was Isabel, too, lying on her chaise in her boudoir. How odd that her lighthearted companionship had come to mean so much to him, and yet he’d never noticed it when it had been his to enjoy.

“You should save your silver tongue for a woman less jaded than I.”

“Dear Pel,” he murmured, smiling. “I adore that you are jaded. You hold no illusions about my less-than-sterling character.”

“I have no idea what your character is anymore.” She pulled away, and he released her. Straightening her spine, Isabel glanced around the small store. When she saw the clerk busy recording their transaction, she said, “I don’t understand why you would say such things to me, Gray. You never had any romantic notions, nor sexual ones, to my knowledge.”

“What color are the flowers in front of our house?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The flowers. Do you know what color they are?”

“Certainly, they’re red.”

He arched a brow. “Are you certain?”

She crossed her arms, and arched her own brow. “Yes, I’m certain.”

“And the ones in the planters by the street?”

“What?”

“The planters by the street have flowers in them. Do you know what color those blooms are?”

Isabel chewed her lower lip.

Gerard tugged off his glove, and then tugged that lush bottom lip out of her teeth. “Do you?”