Victory awoke in that exact same position eight pillow-drooling hours later, hand clutching her battery-drained phone. Rubbing a hand over her face, she rolled to her side and stretched, then fumbled for her charger cord. Sitting up with a yawn, she caught the first whiff of breakfast and almost wept.

From the perfumed air, Victory detected something that smelled reminiscent of pancakes.

Lumbering from her bedroom, she saw Aubrey fussing around the gas range, her short cap of dark hair pulled away with a clip, leaving a few tendrils to escape and curl in the steam as she carefully dropped an egg into lightly simmering water.

"Morning." Victory came around the island to plant a sleep kiss on her rosy cheek. "This looks fantastic. What are we having?"

"Poached eggs," she answered, swiveling from the stove to pour out freshly brewed coffee into a couple of cups with frothed milk and brown sugar, "over what's left of last night's honeyed ham, and a side of crepe suzettes."

"Mom," Victory sighed, circling her arms around Aubrey's shoulders for a fierce squeeze. "What am I going to do when you and dad are gone? Can't believe we only have two more days."

Actually," Aubrey smiled, giving her daughter's bum a little pat before she went back to turning out crepes onto a plate with the small stack, finishing the last of the batter. "Your father and I have been thinking, long and hard, since Niobe made her request, which was so thoughtful," she straightened and faced her daughter with a flush of maternal love in her cheeks. "Ed still gets all chocked up whenever someone mentions it."

"Told her he would," Stealing a segment of orange from a bowl, Victory slid it in her mouth before Aubrey dumped the oranges into the pan to caramelize with honey and freshly pineapple juice.

"Of the two of us he's always been the more emotional," Aubrey agreed, pouring in a healthy splash of rum then tilted the pan so the booze caught aflame. "But seeing as the wedding is only ten weeks out, and I refuse to be absent or miss a single moment of this process, we've decided to extend our stay."

"Oh," lifting her coffee, Victory slid around to a bar stool and took her first indulgent sip of caffeine, not that she needed it anymore. Her body was already wide-awake and alert just from surprise. "Can you guys do that? Manage being away from the B&B for almost three months?"

"We can manage." Aubrey replied, folding the crepes into neat little triangles she transferred onto three plates and drizzled with the citrus sauce, followed by artful slices of ham where she nestled the perfectly poached egg.

"It makes no financial sense, flying back and forth. We left the business in good, capable hands with our new general and assistant managers, so things are well in control. And should anything monumental happen, myself or your father can make the trip out to handle it. So, we'll need to search for a little rental. Somewhere close but just outside the city core. Never did care for all the noise and traffic and...congestion," she sighed, shaking her head, setting down a plate in front of Victory and followed with utensils.

"That's ridiculous, mom, you can stay here."

"Oh, sweetheart," Aubrey waved a hand through the air, "you're a young woman and need space and privacy. Your father and I are perfectly capable of making due for a couple of months. My little mission today is scouting." Sweeping around the island, she gathered Victory in a fierce hug and kissed her nosily on the brow.

"The important thing is I get more time with my girls. How I've missed you, so much. Now, you sit and enjoy your breakfast before it grows cold. I'll go wake up your father."

As Aubrey strolled off, Victory took another sip of coffee to try to swallow the swell of emotions that nestled there.

Her parents were extending their stay. Niobe was back.

For a time, even if only for a moment, her world was whole. Complete. And Victory wondered how she would ever go back to way things were once they were all gone.

Because her mind always worked best when kept busy, and with the condo all to herself for the first time in weeks, Victory spent it cleaning. From kitchen to bathroom, she worked through each of the rooms until every inch and corner sparkled and gleamed. Afterwards, treating herself to a long, indulgent bath, she soaked sore muscles and dozed in soapy, scented waters as she prepared the female ritual of dressing for a date.

Since temperatures were forecasted to linger in the sweaty neighbourhood of thirty-three, Victory settled on a buttercup yellow sleeveless dress with a channel of white buttons running down the front and the hem mirroring eyelet lace; casual, simple, and almost innocent with the little cropped denim jacket.

Even though it was evening, the humidity, baked into the concrete and asphalt, lingered and she wanted to be bright and fresh and almost radiant in the settling dusk of evening air. Against her skin, the yellow lent a natural bronze tone to her skin, and emphasized the gold in her eyes.

Pleased with the results, she did a final turn in the mirror before giving the bedroom a close and thorough inspection.

Bed made, pillows fluffed, clothes put away, not that she necessarily planned on bringing him back to her condo for illicit and steamy late night sex—but luck favoured the prepared, and fortune the bold, right?

Without a moment to spare, she heard the knock at the door and turned her left wrist to see the time. Eight-fifteen. He certainly earned points for punctuality.

Rushing from her room, she hurried to the front door and answered with a breathless, "Hi."

As always, the first thing that struck him was her effortless and radiantly beautiful face; smooth golden skin framed by bold, dark hair with bewitching velvet brown eyes and the unexpected flourish of dimples in her cheeks when she smiled, like she did now.

She wore a dress, a strapless little creamy yellow number, baring shoulders and endless leg, and made him want to fall to his knees and thank god for summer. Seeing his appreciative stare, Victory did a slow little turn. "What do you think?"

She faced him with a sassy little smile, and come-hither look in brown eyes that lanced him deep in the belly and sent all sorts of thoughts racing through his mind.

Was he supposed to answer honestly?

Deciding against it, he reached for the honest, yet safe response, "Best if you didn't know."

Tipping back her head, her laugh danced in those smoked-cedar eyes that so beautifully complimented her voice and Victory slid her arms around his neck. "Good answer. What you got there?"

Remembering the bag, he lifted it, gave it a wiggle much like how she had the other day in the lecture hall. Intrigued, she took it from him.

"For the record," he said as she prepared to dive in, "the men in my house only buy a woman flowers when celebrating or apologizing. So, I went for something a little different."

Inside the golden gift bag, removing the gauzy tissue paper, she fished out a small, sleek bottle and nearly dropped it. "Francesca's," she sighed in reverent genuflection. "Oh my god, Gage, you bought me Francesca's?"

"They're big out in LA," he shrugged. "And Roarke swears by them; nearly bought out the line for Shayne."

Frantic, she popped the top, inhaled and rolled her eyes with the sort of moan that gave a man ideas. "Oh god, I adore her products. They cost a small fortune." Those eyes opened, met his and he nearly, very nearly, thought about pushing her inside and locking the door behind him. "It's perfect. You shouldn't have."

"There's also a bottle of Pinot from Sam's vineyard. The same white we enjoyed at your soft-opening. Since you liked it so much I thought you'd appreciate your own bottle."

"You know how to spoil a girl," she beamed. "Let me put these inside and then we can get out of here." Turning toward the kitchen, she gave him a little come-ahead gesture.

He ventured as far as three paces and left the door open, otherwise the thought of staying in might just prove too appealing. Hands in his pockets as he did a quick scan of the room. Tidy with lots of eclectic flair that somehow managed to not feel random or cluttered. He admired her ability to make the hodgepodge of sundries jive into a cohesive flow that balanced the scales between bold and understated.

"So, anything interesting happen today?" He asked, reaching for small talk to keep his thoughts and attention on her instead of the bedroom off to his right, glass door opened wide enough to reveal a large, readymade bed that he was itching to tumble onto.

"Actually, I had a large booking for February, engagement party. The couple work for an upscale interior design magazine, the wedding is scheduled for the following November. They want to reserve the entire restaurant." She wandered as she talked, leaving the bag of goodies on her kitchen island, disappearing into her walk-in pantry, Victory tucked the bottle of white away on the rack with her other vintages she saved for cooking and drinking.

"It's a great way to bring in a hefty chunk of revenue, and hopefully score a few referrals with friends and families. In fact, when I mentioned it to Niobe this afternoon, I think it put the bug in her ear and has her thinking of doing the same. Paige as well."

"It's smart," he agreed. "Lots of restaurants are holding private events, these days. And you certainly have the space to pull it off."

"Alright, let's get going." Switching off the lights, she led him back out and into the hall. After she shut and locked her front door, Victory leaned in to him and indulging in a lingering kiss before she slithered away, tugging his hand with a laugh when Gage only planted his feet and refused to budge, sliding his gaze longingly towards her closed door.

"Good things come to those who wait." She assured and this time when she tugged he reluctantly stepped forward with a dramatic sigh, followed with a teasing wink.

"So, where are you taking me?" He asked, swinging an arm around her shoulder. Christ she smelled good. Sweet as fresh peaches, ripe and lush and soft.

Lifting her hand, she linked fingers with the hand draped around her, shrugged.

"You'll just have to wait and see."

#

The evening air was soft, the wind spiced with summer and musk. She brought him to the harbour by the inlet of lake where docked sailboats bobbed and swayed, water lapped and gulls wheeled in the open sky above, bleeding orange, crimson and gold.

The water, mirroring the glimmering canvas overhead, accented with streaks of thick clouds of shimmering grey in the fragile light of a waking moon, a sliver dusted thumbnail that brought to mind the taunting grin of the fading Cheshire cat.

Hand in hand, he followed her up the steps of the large bridge, curved over the inlet. At the top, Victory stood by the rail, facing the spit of Centre Island off in the distance, the evening breeze threading through the dark waves of her hair like a lover's caress.

"I love this spot. Right here," Victory ran her hands along the cool steel of the white painted railing, and breathed long and deep. "There's something so peaceful about the water. Looking at it. Listening to it. When I was a kid, I would stand here, close my eyes and just...be."

He liked hearing her voice, feeling the moist air move, watching the evening slide gentle as a kiss over lapping water and rustling trees. There, in the glow of the twinkling lights wrapped around the posts and frame of the bridge, the moon and awakening stars smiling down at them from up above, Gage admired her, and smiled.

Sensing his gaze, Victory turned to look at him, their eyes connected and time spun out in a sweltering moment of heat.

"I need to get something out of the way." Sliding against her, Gage pulled her into his arms.

"That so?" she beamed, twining her arms around his neck.

"Hm." Gage nodded, then lowered his mouth to brush and graze. "Otherwise I won't be able to concentrate."

The kiss was soft and easy, his mouth warm and unhurried, but there was intensity vibrating inside of him, rich and heady as strong as a fist to the belly. Within that kiss, Victory sank, drowned...and dragged him deep into it with her.

The taste and texture of her brought a sudden jolt of pleasure through Gage, every bit as potent as the first time he'd first taken a sample of that hot and willing mouth. She knew how to kiss, followed his flow and pace, then swung it around and brought him to match hers.

When she sighed and softened against him, when she opened just a little more, just a little hungry, he had to fight the urge to latch on and let go.

Gage ran his hands up the sides of her body, regrettably shielded by her dress and snug denim jacket, when he so suddenly craved the touch of skin, and down again until the roar in his blood mellowed to a whisper.

Enough, he told himself, enough for now. He saw the pretty flush infusing her cheeks, glistening in her eyes. And as he drew back, she ran her tongue along her lips in a way that made him want to sink in and drown again.

"You're one hell of a kisser."

"One of my many natural talents; I can't get enough of you."

"Well," she smiled, pressing her lips to his cheek so she could say softly in his ear. "Feel free to indulge whenever the mood strikes." Taking his hand, she led him across the bridge and down the other side, where a crowd swelled.

"What's this?" He asked, taking in the stretch of white tents.

"It's a festival, the Harbourfront does this every summer and I thought you'd appreciate a night of cultural flare." She swung in to him, draping his arm across her shoulder. "One of the wonderful things I love about this city, we embrace and showcase so much ethnic diversity, allowing individuals without the means to travel an opportunity to experience something exotic and different. This weekend is a celebration of all things Latin American."

As the breeze shifted, he smelled the salivating notes of spices perfuming the air, the flavours of so many things he'd almost forgotten, and drifting over the lap of the water, over the lilt of voices and laughter, was the sultry rhythm of music that tugged on his feet and sunk deep to the bone.

Smiling, he looked down at her. "Are you hungry?"

"Famished." Victory admitted. "I haven't eaten for most of the day because I was so excited about tonight."

"Good." He lifted her hand, brushed his lips over her knuckles. "But I warn you, I'm going to want it all, so you'll need to pace yourself."

Her golden brown eyes shone, full of laughter and daring. "Honey, I can eat you under the table any day of the week. I may be tiny, but my legs," she gave her thigh a pat for emphasis, "are hollow. It's where I keep my spare stomach for moments like tonight."

Gage could only laugh.