`` it 's a count , '' she said , as her fingertip moved lightly from one five-count to the next on his right index finger-five , ten , fifteen , twenty-and each time she touched him it was like a leaping spark and a call , a call to entwine her fingers in his , and even-god , what was wrong with her ? -to lift his hands to her lips and kiss the marks there ... . and then , out of nowhere , she knew .