The old house was wrapped in stillness. Jon lay in his big carved-oak bed, hands under his head as he stared at the ceiling. He pictured Camilla just a few feet away, sleeping in one of the guest rooms. Jon couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind, and the fact that she was so close to him in the darkness was almost unbearable. It had been a long time since he’d wanted any woman so fiercely. He could hardly keep himself from getting out of bed, slipping down the hall to her room and gathering her into his arms. He was constrained by the knowledge that the twins were asleep in their room across the hall, with Vanessa’s next to them. And there was also something about Camilla Pritchard herself that kept him from pressing too hard. With any other woman, he would almost certainly have made his move by now. But in spite of her beauty and intellect, Jon sensed a touching kind of shyness, almost a childlike air about the elegant college professor.
