For a moment, he sat on the side of the bed watching the slow rise and fall of her chest in sleep. She looked as though she might be having a bad dream. Her brow creased and her eyes fluttered under her closed lids. “Shh,” he whispered close to her ear. “Sleep, sweetheart.” He lightly swept her bangs from her face and stood. He needed some air to think. Stepping out onto the deck, he studied the water spread before him, reflecting the light of the full moon. The ocean was calm, quiet. Even the yacht was silent, the motors shut down for the night. What had he been thinking earlier? Right where you belong? But she did. She’d felt so right encased in his embrace. He’d wondered earlier if he was in love with her, and he did again. A strong breeze blew and knocked something off the table. The thunk caught his attention, and he looked to the floor. It was Kayla’s small purse, beside it a thin pink plastic box.
