“Wait.” He put a hand on her arm, coming close behind her to study the image. “It’s a faerie.”

“That’s right. Sometimes she’s a good faerie.” Zoe looked over her shoulder, a small smile playing around her lips. “Sometimes she’s wicked. Why don’t you come in here with me and see just which she is tonight?”

Chapter Ten

ZOE faced the day with energy to burn and fresh ideas springing inside her head. While the coffee brewed, she hummed and scrambled some eggs.

There was a man in her shower, she thought with a mile-wide grin. A gorgeous man who’d kept her busy half the night. She didn’t know the last time she’d felt so . . . healthy on less than four hours’ sleep. Her body felt wonderfully loose and limber, and so did her mind. She was damn sure she could tackle anything that came her way, one-handed.

People who said sex wasn’t important, she decided, obviously weren’t having any.

She piled eggs onto a plate, added a slice of toast just as she heard Brad walking into the room. “Right on time,” she said and turned to offer the plate.

“You didn’t have to fix me breakfast.”

“Don’t want it?” She picked up a fork, scooped up some eggs.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want it.” He grabbed the plate from her, then the fork. “You having any?”

“Maybe.” She stepped forward, opened her mouth.

Willing to join the playful mood, he fed her a bite of eggs while they stood in front of the stove.

“Go ahead and sit down,” she told him, and poured the coffee. “Eat while it’s hot. You said you had an early meeting.”

“Maybe I should cancel it.” He leaned over to press his lips to the base of her neck. “We could have breakfast in bed.”

“The only way you get breakfast in bed around here is if you’re sick.” She eased away so she could lay a hand on his brow. “Nope. Eat, go home and change, and get to work.”

“You’re awfully strict. But you make really good scrambled eggs. You got plans for the day?”

“This and that.” She snagged a piece of toast, then sat across from him to butter it. “Next time you get a chance, you’ll have to come by Indulgence. We’re down to the details, and it’s really starting to shine.”

“That’s the first time you’ve asked me to come by.”

“It’s the first time I’ve slept with you, too.”

“I like to see it as a pattern emerging.”

“Might be.”

“I’m not interested in being with anyone else. Not in bed, not over morning eggs.”

“I don’t sleep around,” she said in a serious tone.

“That’s not what I said, and not what I meant.” Reminding himself to be patient, he took her hand firmly. “I’m telling you that you’re the only woman I’m interested in. Got that?”

“I’m being—what did you call it—prickly and oversensitive.”

“Yeah, but you still make great eggs.”

“I’m sorry. This sort of thing hasn’t been . . . I was going to say a priority for me, but the fact is it just hasn’t been. Period. I’m feeling my way.”

“Try this: ‘Bradley’—by the way, my mother’s the only other person that always calls me Bradley. It’s kind of nice. Anyway, ‘Bradley, I’m not interested in anyone else either.’ ”

Her smile bloomed. “Bradley, I’m not interested in anyone else either.”

“That works for me.”

It was working for her, too. And that was just a little scary. “You said once I should ask you why you came back to the Valley. I’m asking you.”

“Okay.” He picked up the jar of strawberry preserves she’d set out and spread some on his toast. “HomeMakers is more than a business. It’s more than tradition. It’s family. If you’re a Vane,” he said with a shrug, “it’s HomeMakers.”

“Is that what you wanted?”

“Yeah, good thing for me. There were a lot of things to learn, to understand, to train for. I had to go out of the Valley to really get my teeth into the organization, to see it as a whole, beyond its beginnings.”

She studied him. He was dressed casually, and his shirt was a bit wrinkled from her hands, from lying on the floor all night. Still, he exuded power and confidence. The kind, she supposed, that was bred in the bone.

“You’re proud of it. Of your family, and the beginnings.”

“Very much. It’s grown, and it’s still growing. We’ve done some really good things—again, not just business. Programs, projects, the layers my grandfather and my father built onto the base of it. I wanted to come back here, to the start, and make something for myself. I intend to make a mark, and I intend to make it in the Valley.”

He set his coffee aside. “And I’d better get to it. Are you heading out now?”

“Soon. I’ve got some chores and errands.” She picked up his plate before he could and took it to the sink, then turned to face him. “You’ll make your mark, Bradley. You’re the kind of man who does. The Valley’s lucky to have you back.”

For a moment he was simply speechless. “That’s the nicest thing you could say to me. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now go to work,” she told him, and kissed him. “And make your mark.”

A homey send-off, he thought, and one he could get used to. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close, then took the kiss several layers deeper.

Her eyes were blurry when he let her go—something else, he decided, that he could get used to. “Thanks for breakfast. See you later.”

She waited until he’d strolled out before she let out a long breath. “Wow. That oughta hold me.”

A glance at the stove clock had her moving quickly to put the kitchen back in order. It was time, she thought, to get to those errands.

Or rather, to start down the path she’d decided to take first.

Armed with her chart and her notes, she got in her car and drove toward her past.

Maybe this was part of the quest, she decided, dealing with and understanding the past while building a future. Or maybe it was just something she had to do to understand the route to the key.