Roz began as they walked toward the house, “that my . . . household is very interested in my more personal relationship with you.” “That’s all right, so am I. Interested in my personal relationship with you.” She glanced down at their joined hands and thought what a lovely design it was that fingers could link so smoothly together. “Your hand’s bigger than mine, considerably. Your palm’s wider, your fingers longer. And see how your fingers are blunt at the tip where mine taper some?” She lifted her arm so their hands were eye level. “But it makes such a nice fit.” With a soft laugh, he said her name. Said it tenderly. Rosalind. Then paused briefly to angle his head down and touch his lips to hers. “So does that.” “I was thinking the same. But I’d as soon keep those thoughts, and that personal interest, between you and me.” “Hard to do, since we have other people in our lives. My son wanted to know where I came up with the brunette babe I was with at the Ole Miss game.”
