Beneath a jaunty brown hat, his hair ruffled in the breeze. Her husband's hair had been a coarse gray, but Cameron's was a silky mixture of blonds and browns. As she imagined running her fingers through it, her hand tightened around Mary's, and she realized she'd thought about him all the night and morning. Whatever was happening to her? It had to stop. Her daughter broke from her grasp and went skipping down the lane, straight into Cameron's arms. He stood and swung her in a wide circle, clearly delighting in her high-pitched squeal. Holding a basket heaped with strawberries, Clarice couldn't help smiling as she came near. It wasn't stopping. He stilled and held Mary close, his nose in her blond curls, and Clarice guessed he was enjoying her daughter's charming, childish scent. She'd never imagined a man would appreciate a thing like that. "I've a mind to go rowing on the river," he told Clarice. "Oh." She looked down at the toes of her neat black shoes. "I hope you'll enjoy yourself." "I meant with you," he said, making her glance up.
