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some considerable time brushing and grooming after their lovemaking. “What is it, my dear?” “I…” She licked her lips, and her gaze wandered restlessly to the big window. Her thick black eyelashes batted. She’d always blinked rather too much. “Um…” There was something she wanted to tell him. She was afraid to, he realized. “Come, come, Jasmine, I won’t bite, what is it? Out with it!” She chewed a lip, hesitated, started to say something, then shook her head. She looked around with a quiet desperation—then pointed at the corner of a window. “Um—those. Snail things or … whatever they are.” He looked at the lower edge of the window. Some spiny crustacean was creeping across a corner of the glass outside. “You wish to have your window cleaned of those things? I’ll try and get a crew up here when you’re at work. You know how they like to stare in at you when you’re home.” “You can’t tell where they’re looking in those big dark helmets. Scary ol’ big daddies, I call ’em.” “Is there something else you wanted to tell me, Jasmine?” She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and shook her head. He could see she’d made up her mind not to tell him. Ryan opened his arms to her—and she came to him. He enfolded her in a warm embrace, and they gazed out the window, where the light was fading, the shadows of the deep rising with the coming of night …