Free Remember the Dreams by Christine Flynn

that the coffemaker could complete its function without her bleary-eyed supervision, she turned to the window over the sink. It was pitch black outside and, other than a few raindrops tracing watery paths down the glass, she could see nothing but her own reflection blinking back at her.
    There was no marked difference in the familiar features. Nothing to indicate that anything drastic had changed within her. A woman in love was supposed to look radiant. Or did that adage apply to a pregnant woman? It hardly mattered. No one could look radiant at four o'clock in the morning.
    Toni shoved the towel, wrapped turban-style around her head, back a bit. Maybe she'd find some changes there—like gray hair.
    Her silver blond hair still appeared to be the same shade it had always been. It would be almost impossible to detect any gray in it anyway. All of the changes were inside. The feelings that made her anxious and . . .
    Oh, come on! her mind yawned. Be practical about this. You've got more sense than to fall in love with him, and one lousy kiss shouldn't make any . . .
    "Coffee ready?"
    What normally took her at least two cups of liquid caffeine to accomplish, Kyle had done in less than two seconds. Full consciousness returned with a thudding jolt.
    He had stopped in the middle of the kitchen. In the mirrorlike window, she could see him briskly rubbing a towel over the back of his still-damp hair. Though his reflection was cut off at the waist, she knew that the maroon velour robe he was wearing ended above his knees—which was where she focused when she turned around. ^
    "I . . . ah . . . think so," she mumbled, mentally kicking herself for being so preoccupied that she'd forgotten to listen for his shower.
    She watched his bare feet carry him to the counter, then heard a cupboard door close and the sound of coffee being poured into mugs.
    Kyle had the disgusting habit of waking up fully alert, but Toni's predawn incoherency usually allowed for only the most basic of exchanges. She hoped that his silence now was only because he wasn't expecting anything more than her customary, unintelligible mutterings. So far, she was running true to form.
    Of course, there was always the possibility that he was too tired to talk this morning. It had been awfully late when he'd gotten home last night. Or maybe he's . . .
    Toni cut her rationalization off with a sharp, silent admonishment and, giving the belt of her robe a tightening jerk, moved to the refrigerator. Why conjure up excuses for his silence? He hadn't had a chance to say much of anything anyway!
    "How's your head this morning?" she ventured, taking a carton of cream from the shelf. She fully expected him to have a hangover. That in itself should be ample reminder of what had happened in the hallway outside their bedrooms.
    Cautiously glancing up, she saw him push one of the mugs toward her. It was hard to tell if it was her question, or the fact that she'd been able to put together a comprehensible sentence at this hour, that made his dark eyebrows pinch together.
    The towel he'd been drying his hair with was draped around his neck, and there was a little nick in his chin where he'd cut himself shaving. She thought she saw the muscle beneath that tiny cut jump.
    "My head's fine," he replied, eyeing the carton she held in her hand. He raised his mug to his lips, watching her blandly over the rim. "When did you start drinking cream in your coffee?"
    Toni's eyes jerked to the container she was opening. The deeper levels of her mind had still been wrestling with the impracticality of being in love with Kyle while her heart had been telling her to ignore that logic. Obviously she didn't function well when forced, before she had her coffee, to deal with profound thoughts—and the more conscious ones caused by the extremely disturbing impact he was having on her nerves.
    I don't use cream, she thought dumbly, also telling herself that she'd better start paying more attention to her own