Warmth pooled in my belly as dozens of memories with Whit flooded my mind. The moment when we had found Cleopatra’s final resting place, and we had laughed so hard tears dripped down our faces. When he dove into the Nile to save me, giving me air when the last of my breath rushed out of me. I still remember his face through the murky blur of the river, bubbles drifting between us before he pressed his mouth to mine. And I could still hear his hushed reply after I had told him how I felt in a moment of bravery. His quiet words had sent a delicious shiver down my spine. It goes both ways.