A/N:  Yay!  I'm finally done with chapter six.  Sorry it took so long.  I got to page six before I realized I didn't like it that way, so I had to start over.  I'm happy with it now and I hope you will be, too, even though it's longer than the last chapter.  Again, thanks to everybody for reviewing.  You guys are great and I really appreciate your comments.  Here's hoping chapter seven comes out as quickly as chapter four did.  Enjoy.

            A light, scratching sound pulled Joan out of her sleep.  Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.  Adam sat on the bed beside her, sketchpad in his lap and a pencil in his hand.  Joan smiled at him, though he didn't notice.  "What're you doing?"

            He glanced up at her and smiled back.  "Sketching you."

            "Again?"

            "Couldn't sleep."

            Pushing herself up into a sitting position, Joan rubbed the sleep from her eyes.  This insomnia had been plaguing Adam for the past three weeks and it worried her.  There were bags under his eyes and he was more oblivious than usual.  "What's going on with you, Adam?"

            "Nothing."  He gave a reassuring smile.  She didn't buy it for a second.  "Honest."

            He wasn't going to tell her.  No matter how close they got, he still seemed to prefer dealing with some things on his own.  She respected that; she still hadn't told him about her special friendship with God.  "You know that I'm here if you need me, right?"

            "Of course."  He resumed sketching.

            "You know," she began as she lay back down and watched him draw, "if you keep up these late-night sketching sessions, I'm going to develop a really bad complex."

            "What are you talking about?"

            She laughed at the disbelief in his voice.  "Well, soon I'll be dreaming that I sleep with my mouth hanging open and drool like a St. Bernard.  And the snoring.  I'll dream that I snore like a trucker and you and your roommates are walking around the apartment with pillows plastered to your heads to block out the noise.  Of course, it won't work, so to make it stop, you'll smother me.  See, Adam, you're giving me nightmares."

            Laughing, Adam closed his sketchbook and stretched out beside Joan.  "That's just silly.  I'd never smother you.  You'd just wake outside."

            Joan hit his shoulder with a laugh of her own before snuggling against him.  He wrapped an arm around her and she sighed.  "Why do you watch me sleep, Adam?"

            "It calms me," he said, kissing her forehead.  "Helps me sleep."

            "I don't see how."

            "You will," he assured her.  "One day."

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            I'm really not mad at you.  I have no reason to be.

            Joan leaned against the sink and basked in the release Adam's words had given her.  She still thought she shared some of the blame for the sad state of their relationship.  But knowing that he didn't hold her past actions against her was like having a shroud removed from her heart.  Joan felt light-headed, giddy with Adam's easy forgiveness.  He was so amazing.  What had she ever done to deserve him?  "Did I tell you that I miss you?"

            "Yes."  Adam smiled and his tender gaze caressed her face.  Joan arched into the warmth of his presence like a flower in the sun. 

            "Jane?" he whispered, sending a shaft of pleasure through her.

            "Hmm?"

            "I miss you, too."

            The tea kettle whistled but neither Adam nor Joan moved.  He seemed content just to watch her.  Joan, on the other hand, couldn't remember how to breathe.  Suddenly, she was acutely aware of the intimacy of the situation, of the intensity of her feelings for this man.  The aroma of soap and warm male and well-aged love enveloped her and she swayed toward him.  Her eyes closed as she reveled in the heat emanating from him.  So close.  She'd missed this. 

            But he's not yours now. 

            The painful reminder opened Joan's eyes.  Lifting her sorrowful eyes to his beloved face, she let her gaze traced his features as if committing them to memory before taking in the rest of him.  The man standing before her wasn't the same one who'd left her.  She had no right to fall into his arms or do any of the other things that she'd once taken for granted with Adam.  So why did he have such power over her emotions?  Confused and upset, Joan cast about for something to distract her from her unhappy thoughts.  She saw the tea kettle and realized that the water was boiling.

            "Jane?"  Adam gazed down at her, troubled by the rapidly changing emotions crossing her face. 

            Get a grip, Joan, she scolded after a burst of satisfaction at Adam's concern.  Space—that's what she needed.  Some space between them so she could think and regroup.  Gently pushing him back, she cast an apologetic smile in his direction and stepped around him.  "I need to get that." 

            She turned off the kettle, then noticed the forgotten sandwich.  She picked it up and shoved it toward Adam.  "Take this."

            He just raised an eyebrow at her.

            "You're probably hungry after your walk."

            He took the plate, but still looked at her with searching eyes. 

            Joan couldn't quite meet his eyes.  She didn't want to answer the questions in them.  Instead, she shooed him out to the dining room.  "I'll be there in a minute.  I'm just going to make some tea.  Would you like some tea?"

            "Whatever you're having is fine," he answered as he left the kitchen.

            She didn't miss the disappointment in his voice, the sudden distance.  Great.  Scare him off, why don't you?  Joan assembled a tray with two cups of mint tea in an attempt to settle her nerves.  When she was sure—reasonably so, anyway—that she could face him without doing anything truly inappropriate, she lifted the tray and joined him in the dining room.

            Adam hadn't touched his sandwich.  He seemed to be contemplating how to approach it.  Wordlessly, Joan handed him a knife.  He took it and they shared a smile.

            "I forgot to cut it in half."

            "Share?"

            Nodding, she unloaded the tea tray: two cups, sugar bowl, a saucer of lemon wedges.  She sat across from him and added sugar to her tea while Adam began his half of the sandwich.  They'd always shared any sandwich she made.  How had she forgotten that he'd never finished a whole one by himself?

            "So," Adam said after neither had said anything for a few minutes.

            "So."

            He opened his mouth, then closed it with a bemused air.  "I don't know what to say next."

            "Me either."

            Silence descended on them again.  Adam nudged the plate toward Joan before asking the question they were both avoiding.  "What do we do now?"

            Sighing, Joan played with her half of the sandwich before answering.  "I guess we begin again."

            "All right."  Adam squeezed lemon juice into his tea.  "Where do you want to start?"

            Joan bit into her sandwich and pondered the question.  There was so much to know.  They were both different people.  Where did she start?  "What had you walking in the cold for four hours?"

            "I, uh, I saw you . . . in the park."

            "I know," she said, frowning.

            "With that other guy."

            "What guy?"    

            "What guy?" he asked, surprised.  "The one who gave you a rose and kissed you.  That guy."   

            It still took a second for memory to kick in.  "Oh, you mean Eric."

            "Yeah, I guess so."

            "You saw that," Joan said, more to herself than to him.

            "I wasn't prep. . .I didn't know you had a boyfriend.  The walk was supposed to give me time to get used to the idea."

            "Eric isn't my boyfriend."

            "He isn't?"

            Smiling, she shook her head.  "We dated a little while ago but it didn't really work out."

            "Oh."  Adam sipped his tea.  "Why not?"

            Joan shrugged.  "He was nice enough, but something was missing.  He didn't have much imagination, for one thing."

            Adam glanced at her.  "He didn't have imagination?"

            "Not really.  I mean, come on, a kiss and a rose and I'm supposed to fall into his arms and give 'us' one more try?  Anybody could do that."  Thoughtfully, Adam sipped his tea, but Joan saw the amusement in his eyes and couldn't help smiling herself.  "What about you?  Any groupies?"

            "No, no groupies.  But I think I have a girlfriend."

            Joan stared.  "You think you have a girlfriend?"

            "It's complicated," he said with a shrug.

            "How complicated can it be?  Either she's your girlfriend or she's not."

            "Unchallenged.  Thing is, she hasn't told me which one she is yet."

            "Oh."  Not knowing what to say to that, Joan took another bite of her sandwich.  What did one say to that?  "What's the story?"

            "Well," he began, "Tanya—that's her name, by the way—and I were dating and things were going fine and then they weren't.  It was like she suddenly lost interest, which was okay.  I mean, that happens when you're dating.  But then she was interested again."

            "So, what's the problem?"

            "She keeps going back and forth.  One day, she wants to spend every second with me.  The next, she wants nothing to do with me.  It's confusing and very stressful."

            Smothering a smile, she said, "I can imagine so."

            "So, I told her that I couldn't take the back and forth thing anymore and that she needed to make a decision.  She got mad."

            Joan sipped her tea to hide the smile that she couldn't hold back any longer.  "She got mad?"

            Adam nodded.  "That was a month ago.  I haven't heard from her since."

            "So, it's safe to assume that she's not your girlfriend anymore."

            "Not with Tanya, it isn't.  She's unpredictable."

            "Why not just tell her that it's over?" Joan asked, quite reasonable she thought.

            "Because then I'd have to talk to her and I'm not ready to yet."

            Joan tried to stifle the giggle that rose in her throat, but it broke through anyway.

            "It's not funny."

            "Sorry," she murmured as she tried, without much success, to squash her laughter.

            Adam glared at her then ruined the effect by laughing himself.  The quiet tension that had held them seemed to melt away.  When they finally gained control of themselves, they smiled in amiable silence until Adam yawned.

            "Tired?"

            "Yeah."

            Joan gave him a shrewd look.  "Long day tired or haven't-been-sleeping-lately tired?"

            "Both," he admitted.  "I should probably be getting home."

            "You're not going anywhere, Adam Rove."

            "You keeping me?" he asked, his voice a strange mix of mischievousness and hope.

            She rolled her eyes at him despite the answering pang in her heart.  "Cute, but no.  Since you obviously didn't notice, it's storming outside, smart aleck."

            "It is?"  He really hadn't noticed.

            "Yes.  And you're not going out in it."

            Tilting his head to the side, Adam studied her for a moment.  "Were you always this bossy?" he asked jokingly.

            Joan gasped in mock outrage.  "Go to bed."

            "Where are the guest sheets?"

            "You won't need them."  She began gathering their dishes and loading them onto the tray.

            "Why not?" Adam asked as picked up the tray and headed toward the kitchen.  "Where am I sleeping?"

            "My room."

            He whipped around and gaped at her.  "Then where are you sleeping?"

            "The sofa," she answered.  She took the tray from him and dumped the leftover food.

            "I'm not putting you out of your own bed.  I'll take the sofa."

            "No, you'll take the bed."  When Adam started to protest, Joan crossed her arms over her stomach and glared at him.  "Don't argue with me, Adam.  I know you.  You're not sleeping and it's only going to get worse.  That sofa won't help you.  My bed, however, is very soft, very conducive to a good night's sleep."

            "Is that supposed to convince me?"

            "I've fallen asleep on that sofa plenty of times.  I'm used to it.  You aren't and I want you healthy, not exhausted.  You're taking the bed."

            Adam shook his head.  "No, I'm not."

            Joan advanced on him until they were standing toe to toes.  "I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

            They faced off.  Finally, Adam gave in.  "Fine."

            Joan smirked as he left the kitchen.  He'd never been able to stare her down.  She loaded their dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on before following Adam.  He was lying on the sofa, an arm slung over his eyes.  Leaning over him, she moved his arm and stared down at him.  "Not gonna work, buddy."

            "Jane," he said with a hint of exasperation in his tone.

            "Up."  When he didn't move, she frowned at him.  "Now."

            "It doesn't matter where I sleep, yo."

            "It does to me," she said.  He continued to stare up at her, not moving.  "Do it for me?  Please?"

            With a sigh, he pushed off the sofa.  "Emotional blackmail, Jane?"

            She had the grace to look sheepish. 

            "We covered this.  You don't have to take care of me."

            "Well, old habits die hard.  Besides," she said as she turned and led the way to her bedroom, "I have some work to do.  I'd much rather do it in here than my room."

            Adam followed Joan's lead, knowing that she wasn't going to give up on her current notion.  Her attention flattered him.  It was nice knowing that he still mattered so much to her.

            Having Adam in her bedroom was surreal for Joan.  Before, she'd spent plenty of nights at his apartment but he'd never slept over at hers.  The thought of Adam sleeping in her bed—something she hadn't really focused on when insisting he do so—warmed her skin.  "Do you need anything before I leave?"

            "I'm fine," he answered with a shake of his head.

            "Okay.  Well, good night, Adam."

            "Night, Jane."

            Joan left her room and closed the door behind her.  She made up the sofa and settled in to work.  Though she really wasn't interested in what she was doing, Joan forced herself to work until she could barely keep her eyes open.  After she put her work away, she decided to check on Adam.  She'd hate to give up her bed only for him to be sitting in it wide awake. 

            Quietly, Joan opened her bedroom door.  The light from the living room fell on Adam.  He lay facing her, sound asleep.  Smiling at the sight, Joan didn't realize she'd wandered into the room until she sat on the side of the bed.  She just stared at him.  He looked so vulnerable, so relaxed like a little boy.  His eyelashes swept rosy cheeks and his rosebud mouth was soft and slightly open. 

            She had never watched Adam sleep before—had always thought it was strange that he liked to watch her.  Now, as she brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, she understood.  It was peaceful, soothing, and strangely exhilarating to be able to watch him uninterrupted like this.  With a contented sigh, Joan laid down beside him without thinking.  She wanted to touch him, stroke his baby-soft skin like she used to.  She decided against it.  It was a line she wasn't ready to cross yet. 

            After a while, drowsiness tugged at her eyes again.  She fought it, wanting to enjoy this moment while she had the chance.  Eventually, sleep won.  Joan closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep with a tranquil smile on her lips.