Why couldn’t people keep things simple? he wondered as he wandered into Brianna’s room. Complications were part and parcel of fiction, but in reality life was so much smoother one day at a time.

But it was stupid, he admitted, and incredibly naive to pretend that Brianna Concannon wasn’t a complication. Hadn’t he admitted already that she was unique? Restless, he lifted the top off a small bottle on her dresser. And smelled her.

He just wanted to be with her—for the time being, he told himself. They enjoyed each other, liked each other. At this particular time and this particular place, they suited each other well.

Of course, he could back off any time. Of course he could. With a little snarl he shot the top back in the bottle.

But her scent remained with him.

She wasn’t in love with him. Maybe she thought she was, because he was her first. That was natural. And maybe, just maybe, he was a little more involved with her than he’d ever been with anyone else. Because she was unlike anyone else. So that was natural, too.

Still and all, when his book was finished, they would have to be finished as well. He’d be moving on. Lifting his head, he stared at himself in the mirror. No surprises there, he thought. It was same face. If there was a faint light of panic in the eyes, he chose to ignore it.

Grayson Thane looked back at him. The man he’d made from nothing. A man he was comfortable with. A man, he told himself now, who moved through life as he chose to move. Free, no baggage, no regrets.

There were memories. He could block the unpleasant ones. He’d been doing that for years. One day, he thought, he’d look back and remember Brianna, and that would be enough.

Why the hell hadn’t she called?

He checked himself, turned away from the mirror before he could see something he preferred to avoid. No need for her to call, he told himself and poked through the books on her shelf. It was her business, family business, and he had no part in it. Wanted no part in it.

He was curious, that was all, about Maggie and the baby. If he was waiting up, it was only to satisfy that curiosity.

Feeling better, he chose a book, stretched out on her bed, and began to read.

Brianna found him there at three a.m. She staggered in on a wave of joy and fatigue to see him asleep on top of her blankets, an open book on his chest. She beamed at him, foolishly, she knew. But it was a night for foolishness.

Quietly she undressed, folded her clothes over a chair, slipped into a nightgown. In the adjoining bath she scrubbed the tiredness from her face. She caught her own grinning reflection in the mirror, and laughed.

Padding back into the bedroom, she bent down to pet Con, who was curled on the rug at the foot of the bed. With a sigh she turned off the light and laid down without bothering to turn down the covers.

He turned to her instantly, his arm draping over her, his face nuzzling her hair. “Brie.” His voice was thick with sleep. “Missed you.”

“I’m back now.” She shifted, curving to him. “Just sleep.”

“Hard to sleep without you. Too many old dreams without you.”

“Ssh.” She stroked him, felt herself start to drift. “I’m right here.”

He came fully awake with a snap, blinking, confused. “Brie.” He cleared his throat and pushed himself up. “You’re back.”

“Yes. You fell asleep reading.”

“Oh. Yeah.” After scrubbing his hands over his face, he squinted to see her in the dim light. It came flooding back. “Maggie?”

“She’s fine, she’s wonderful. Oh, it was beautiful to see, Gray." Excited all over again, she sat up, wrapped her arms around her knees. “She was cursing Rogan, vowing all sorts of hideous revenge on him. He just kept kissing her hands and telling her to breathe. Then she’d laugh, tell him she loved him, and curse him all over again. I’ve never seen a man so nervous and awed and loving all at once.”

She sighed again, not even aware her cheeks were wet. “There was all this confusion and chattering, arguing, just as you’d expect. Whenever they tried to boot us out, Maggie would threaten to get up and leave herself. “My family stays,’ says she, “or I go with them.’ So we stayed. And it was so . . . marvelous.”

Gray wiped her tears himself. “Are you going to tell me what she had?”

“A boy.” Brianna sniffled. “The most beautiful boy. He has black hair, like Rogan’s. It curls around his little head like a halo. And he has Maggie’s eyes. They’re blue now, of course, but the shape of them’s Maggie’s. And he wailed so, like he was cursing the lot of us for bringing him into this mess. His little fingers all clenched into fists. Liam, they named him. Liam Matthew Sweeney. They let me hold him.” She rested her head on Gray’s shoulder. “He looked at me.”

“Are you going to tell me he smiled at you?”

“No.” But she smiled. “No, that he didn’t. He looked at me, very serious like, as if he was after wondering what he was to make of all this business. I’ve never held a life so new before. It’s like nothing else, nothing else in the world.” She turned her face into his throat. “I wish you could have been there.”

To his amazement, he found he wished the same. “Well, somebody had to mind the ranch. Your Mrs. O’Malley came on the fly.”

“Bless her. I’ll call her up tomorrow to give her the news and thank her.”

“She doesn’t cook as well as you.”

“You don’t think so?” She grinned to herself, delighted. “I hope you didn’t say so.”

“I’m the soul of diplomacy. So.” He kissed Brianna’s temple. “She had a boy. What’s the weight?”

“Seven pounds, one ounce.”

“And the time—you know, when she had it?”

“Oh, it was about half one.”

“Shit, looks like the German copped the pool.”

“Pardon?”

“The pool. We had a baby pool going. Sex, weight, time of birth. I’m pretty sure the German guy—Krause—hit the closest.”

“A betting pool, is it? And whose idea was that?”

Gray ran his tongue around his teeth. “Murphy’s,” he said. “The man’ll bet on anything.”

“And what was your guess?”

“Girl, seven and a half pounds, straight up midnight.” He kissed her again. “Where’s my cigar?”