Was that a dream? he wondered. Was she there or wasn't she? What had seemed so real in the night seemed less so in the light of day. Thoughts were whirling through his head. Should he just ask her? Yeah, right! Did you come into my bed last night? Let's see, what possible reactions could she have to that!?

Well, one, she might be angry because maybe it was all just a dream and she will think you are coming on to her or accusing her of something. And you'll look downright desperate. Two, she might not even remember doing it. Three, she might remember it clearly and be insulted that you didn't. Howie sighed. He didn't really see any way around this that didn't end up with her angry at him.

Maybe I could get a look at her laundry, he thought. See if she has a tank top like that. Maybe when she has a shower... He shook his head at himself. He knew one thing for certain. He sure wasn't into songwriting today. Crap! Another day wasted!

He got out of bed and pulled on some sweatpants. He padded silently to the bathroom. Across the room, he could see Natalie's bedroom door...still closed. He came out a minute later. He decided to make tea before his shower and went to the kitchen to plug in the kettle. It was warm to the touch.

A sound made him look up. Huddled on the sofa wrapped in a blanket was Natalie. Her bare toes peeked out of the blanket and rested on the coffee table next to a mug. She was staring out the window, but Howie didn't know if she was actually seeing anything. He made his tea and went over to her. She looked up at him, blinking. There were dark circles under her eyes.

"I didn't call you 'stupid'," said Howie gently.

"Well, I am," she answered in a small voice. She leaned forward and snaked her arm out of the blanket toward her mug. The blanket slipped from her shoulder and Howie saw the tiny string of the tank top.

Okay, he thought, okay. She was real. She was there.

"You're not stupid," he said.

"Well, what would you call it then? Throwing a year of your life away on a married man, not picking up on a thousand clues that gave him away. I'm a mystery writer, for God's sake!" She set down the mug and stood up, clutching the blanket around her. "But stupid is better than the alternative, which is that maybe I did pick up on those clues. Maybe I did figure it out. What does that make me then?"

"Human," said Howie, setting his mug beside hers. "It makes you human."

She dropped the blanket to the floor. She reached out a hand and placed it on his chest. He moved one finger down her neck and across her shoulder. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. Then she opened her eyes. "Heal me," she pleaded.

Howie's mouth covered hers. She opened her mouth and dragged him in. Her hands clutched at his arms and his chest. He tightened his arms around her, holding her close, pinning her arms to his chest. The frantic movements stopped. She moaned into his mouth and their kiss became softer, less desperate.

Howie broke the kiss and moved his lips to her throat, kissing a fiery trail down her neck and along her collarbone. He ran his tongue across her shoulder beside the strap. He reached up with one finger and slid it off her.

"Howie," she breathed into the top of his head. "Let me go."

He was just getting ready to misinterpret this when she added, "I want to touch you."

He relaxed his arms, releasing his grip on her. She moved her fingertips over his chest. He dragged his hand across her stomach, lightly grazing the bare skin in the gap between her pants and top. He picked up her hand and kissed the palm. They looked at each other for a long moment and then both took a step - in opposite directions. They stopped, startled.

Then Howie grinned, "My place or yours?"

"Mine, please," answered Natalie, leading him by the hand into her bedroom. The bed was unmade. The sheets were twisted and tangled and the bedspread was on the floor.

"Another nightmare?" asked Howie.

"Not really," replied Natalie. "Just a strange dream. I don't remember it."

She didn't remember the dream that forced her awake in the middle of the night. But she could vividly recall the anxiety attack that followed - the gasping for breath, the shaking, the overpowering certainty that she was a worthless individual and that she would be alone for the rest of her life.

Her mind began playing tricks on her at that point, convincing her that Howie had had enough of her and had gone away...had left the building, as it were. The nightmare from Thursday rose in front of her like a demon and she found she had to go and check on him.

She had tiptoed into his room and looked at him. He was asleep, of course. She stared at him for a few minutes, willing him to wake up. He did, and when he lifted the blankets, inviting her in, she had moved to him without a thought. Then she had laid there with her eyes closed, afraid of what he might have to say to her. He didn't say anything for a moment and then he whispered her name and touched her arm. She started shaking. She tried to stop herself and she couldn't, so she turned away from him and curled into a ball. He had not rejected her, however, as she feared, but had soothed her, stroking her until the trembling stopped. Comfort and shelter, she thought, snuggling back against him. Comfort and shelter.

What is he supposed to think, Nat? He's going to think you are some kind of tease. Going from 'I hate men' to being in his bed in a few short hours. Either get out of here or grab him! But she did neither. She waited to see what he would do. She wondered if he was even awake. She wondered if she was. She kept still through his kisses and his touching of her breast. When she felt his wet fingers caressing her nipple, she nearly lost it and turned her face into the pillow to stifle the moan. Okay, that's it. The next thing he does, I'm doing it right back to him, she decided. But he didn't do anything else. They lay together like spoons and fell asleep.

She had wakened with the lightening of the sky and crept silently from his bed. She had gone to her room, but only long enough to grab a blanket. She had made herself a cup of tea and sat on the couch, wondering what the hell Howie would think her now and how they would get through the next week together.

Howie smoothed out the sheets and folded them back. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Come here," he said.

Natalie stood between his knees. Howie put his hands on her waist and his lips on her stomach. She groaned and ran her fingers through his hair as his mouth moved up her body under her shirt. Natalie crossed her arms and pulled the top over her head. Howie moved his mouth to her breast. She held his head while he nuzzled her, sucking on her breast, teasing the nipple with his tongue and his teeth, then moving to the other breast to do the same.

Another moan from her made him stop. He looked at her for a moment and then lay back on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. She could feel his hardness and she wanted it. She rolled sideways, taking him with her. She moved her hand over him and slipped her fingers down into his sweatpants. She ran her fingers over him, outlining his shape. Then she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed gently.

It was his turn to moan. He turned his attention back to her breasts, using his mouth on one and his hand on the other. Then both mouth and hand moved downward. He kissed and licked her stomach, while his fingers trailed down to the waistband of her pants. He slid his fingers under it and probed between her folds, searching for her center. He manipulated her gently and moved his fingers in and out of her. She responded by pumping him harder.

Natalie was on fire, flames radiating out from her center, where Howie's hand was driving her out of her mind. She wanted him inside her. She wanted to feel all of him. Suddenly, her eyes flew open. Condoms! Shit! "Nooo," she whimpered. Howie looked up at her. His hand became still.

"Condom," she whispered, shaking her head. She didn't have any.

He smiled at her. "In a minute," he said, and went back to stroking her. He brought her to the edge and then he shoved her over. Her body shuddered and she gave a long, low moan. Howie moved back up her body. He kissed her passionately, and then whispered in her ear, "Be right back."

He returned a few seconds later to find that she had moved up onto the pillows and was laying in the middle of the bed with the sheet tucked decorously over her breasts. The pants had joined the tank top on the floor. She lifted the sheet in invitation. Howie added his sweatpants to the pile of clothes and tossed some foil packets on the night table. Then he crawled in beside her.

Natalie reached down with both hands and stroked him. Then she slid her body down the bed and put her mouth on him. Howie gave a strangled gasp. He put his hands on her head, and moved his fingers through her hair, as her wet, hot tongue made circles around the head of his throbbing member and then blazed up and down the shaft. When she started sucking on him, he groaned and pulled her head gently away from him. The need to be in her was too great.

He moved her onto her back and put on the condom. He knelt between her legs and used his hand to move himself over her center, stroking her, and then down to her opening. He inserted himself slowly, never taking his eyes off her face. When he was fully in her, he hesitated for a moment. Her eyes were cloudy with desire.

"Heal me," she whispered, clenching her muscles around him.

So he did, pulling himself almost out of her and then pushing back in - each movement picking up another piece of her broken soul and gluing it back together.

They moved together, slowly at first and then faster and harder until Howie's whole body stiffened and, with a grunt and a shudder, he reached his climax. His hand continued moving over her, bringing her along with him. She arched her back and whimpered as she came and then his hand became still. They hovered together, suspended in time and space, waiting for their panting to stop and their heart rate to slow. Natalie's hands moved first. She trailed them up his back, making lazy patterns with her fingernails. This elicited a soft moan from Howie. He raised his head and kissed her.

"Am I too heavy?" he asked. He was balanced on his forearms.

"Mmm..." she murmured in reply, shaking her head. He kissed her again, softly, sweetly.

They stayed that way for a few minutes and then, with a sigh, he moved out of her. She made a small sound of disappointment.

"I'll be back," he said and disappeared into her bathroom. When he returned, he got back in beside her. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her. He traced his fingers over her face and neck. When he passed over her mouth, she pulled one finger inside and sucked on it, then bit it gently. Howie groaned and slid his hand down her neck to her breast, where he started teasing her nipple.

"Mmmm," breathed Natalie.

"We're going to have to go to town again," said Howie. "I only have two left."

Natalie gave him a sexy smile. "I am never going to get this damn book written," she said.

"Speaking of books," he said. "I read one of yours. The Treasure Trail. You're a good writer."

"Thank you," she murmured, moving her fingernails down his chest and over his stomach, following a whole different sort of treasure trail.

They played with each other's body, stretching their nerves so taut they were ready to snap. Then he moved into her again and she wrapped her legs around him. They rocked each other off the planet and then fell asleep in each other's arms.