Part 182 (1/2)

ce a week to make sure I haven't succ.u.mbed to some lecherous French

comte. I only wish.” When Emma didn't smile, she tilted her head. ”You

think he'll disapprove?”

”I don't know.” Restless, she moved her shoulders.

”Emma, if it's serious between you and Drew, he's going to find out

sooner or later.”

”I know. I'm just hoping it'll be later.”

IT WASN'T MUCH LATER.

Emma enjoyed the morning sun on the terrace of her room in Rome. Though

it was late for breakfast, she was still in her robe, her coffee growing

cold, as she checked over her current batch of prints. In the back of

her mind she was a.s.sessing them not only for Pete but for her own idea

for a book.

Smiling, she took out her favorite of Drew. She'd taken it in the leafy

shade of the Bois de Boulogne. Only moments after she'd taken the

picture, he'd kissed her. And told her he loved her.

He loved her. Closing her eyes, she reached her arms up to the sky. She

had hoped, and she had wished, but she'd had no idea how happy she could

be until he'd said the words. Now that he had, she could begin to dream

what it would be like to be with him always, to make love with him, to

be married to him, to make a home and raise a family.

She hadn't realized how badly she wanted that. A man who loved her, a

home of her own, children. They could be happy, so happy.

Who understood the life and problems of a musician more than a woman who

had been raised by one? She could comfort and support him in his work.

And he would do the same for her.