Witt, having consumed champagne for hours, yawned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He was heavy, this big bear of a man, and she staggered under the combination of his sagging weight and too many glasses of champagne.

Hours before, while she was getting ready for the party, she’d dressed with care and planned to seduce her husband, no matter how much work it was, but now she was tired, her feet ached, her head pounded, and she wasn’t interested in anything but falling into the huge bed in their suite and sleeping for at least a million hours.

She helped Witt into the elevator. For a few hours the guests, dressed in their finest clothes and jewelry, had forgotten about anything other than celebrating Witt Danvers’s sixty years.

With a groan, the elevator car moved upward, only to shudder to a stop on the seventh floor. “Come on, birthday boy,” she said, still supporting him as they reached their suite with its panoramic view of the river. She didn’t much care about the view as she unlocked the door, snapped on the lights, and helped him to the king-size bed that had already been turned down by the maid. Witt fell across the silk sheets like a heavy sack of potatoes.

“Come here,” he said thickly, reaching for his wife as she pulled the draperies shut.

Katherine giggled. “Want me?”

“Always,” he assured her. “I love you, Katherine. Thanks.”

Tears stung the back of her eyes as the drapes snapped shut. She did care about him. “I love you, too, honey.”

“I wish I could…I mean…”

“Shh. It doesn’t matter,” she said, and meant it at that moment. Sex was important, but it wasn’t as valuable as love. Kat could find sex anywhere, but she’d learned long ago how stingy people were with love. Leaning over, she rumpled his hair playfully and placed a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be back in a minute. I just want to check on London.”