A knock on the door was followed by a heavenly fragrance of something I couldn’t quite discern, but I was fairly certain it had originated with a fresh bakery item and hot coffee.

I pulled the soft, downy quilt up higher over my shoulders, and as I moved the blanket, another scent, just as heavenly but for entirely different reasons wafted off the sheets. I reached behind me, but there was only an empty pillow.

I sat up quickly and glanced around the room. The nightie and satin robe had been hung neatly over the end rail on the bed, but there was no towel or any other signs of Grayson. The tenderness between my legs made it clear that I hadn’t just imagined the whole thing or the man.

Another knock startled me out of my haze. The knock was gentle and feminine. “Yes,” I called. “Is that you, Coco?” I pulled the cover up over my naked breasts. “Come on in.”

The door opened and Coco poked her head around the edge of it. The age lines had disappeared completely, and she looked fresh-faced enough to do a face cream commercial. She’d replaced the head scarf with a wide-brimmed straw hat. Her hands were full with a silver platter.

“I thought since you were sleeping late, I’d bring up some coffee.” She placed the tray down on the nightstand. “I made some cranberry scones and freshly churned butter. Thought you might like it with your coffee.”

“They smell and look delicious.” I glanced across the bed toward the robe. Again, as if she could read my thoughts, Coco picked it up and handed it to me.

I pulled it on while she poured the coffee from a small silver pot. The rich scent of it drifted toward me.

I looked around the room. “There’s no clock in here. What time is it?”

She handed me the cup. She’d added just the right amount of cream, even though I hadn’t mentioned to her how I took my coffee.

“It’s ten o’clock.” Coco pointed up to her hat. “I’ve been out planting roses.”

I nearly spilled the coffee. “Ten o’clock? I haven’t slept that late since I was a teenager. That wine must have really done a number on me.”

Her sparkling, all-knowing gaze swept across the other side of the bed where a deep impression on the pillow left no doubt that someone else had been sleeping next to me. Her mouth tilted and some of those phantom, wizened wrinkles appeared.

I blushed again for what seemed like the millionth time since I’d arrived. Of course, I wasn’t completely sure I’d ever arrived. It seemed more that my car had been pulled in the direction of the Silk Stocking Inn.

Coco politely changed the subject. “It’s a perfect day to be outdoors.”

“Suppose I should drag myself out of this comfy bed then.” My eyes drifted shut as I sipped the coffee. “That is delicious.” I opened my eyes. “I really needed this. I’ll be up and out of here soon. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, and I really need to get back home.”

Coco spooned a dollop of creamy butter on top of the scone. It melted over the sides, making sure to fill in all the nooks and crannies on its buttery descent. She handed me the plate. “What’s the rush, Jessi? It’s Saturday. No work today. This room is vacant for the rest of the weekend.”

A hammering sound on the roof startled me.

Coco glanced up toward the ceiling as if it was see through. “Grayson is working on this side of the house. He got a rather late start this morning.” She winked at me. The first blush hadn’t cooled yet, and something told me it was going to stick around all morning.

“I’ll let you finish breakfast. There’s a lovely walking path around the house. Lots of birds and butterflies.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful, but I only have my work clothes and shoes. And I really should head home.”

“I’ve left some clothes that I think will fit you on the dresser.”

My eyes shot toward the mahogany dresser. Clothes were stacked on top and a pair of women’s hiking boots sat on the floor in front of it. “How did you—”

She raised a smooth dark brow at me, as if she was waiting for me to finish the question. I knew it would only result in an even more confusing answer.

I shook my head. “Never mind. I might stay for a walk, but then I’ll be heading home.”

“That’s fine, Jessi.” She walked out without another word.

I took a bite of the melt in your mouth scone. Butter dripped down my chin, and I reached for the napkin on the tray. It was made of pure white linen. Someone had embroidered pink lettering on it. It was too beautiful to use on a greasy chin. I wiped the butter with my fingers and looked down at the linen napkin on my palm and read the pink letters. “Silk Stocking Inn.” I could feel embroidered lettering on the back as well. I turned it over and read the stitching. “Consider yourself matched.”