Thanks. So what I was wondering isdo you think anyone could know what love is at the age of sixteen?

Nola moved her head back in surprise. You're asking for /my/ opinion on relationships?

Well, yeah.

Hmm. She scrunched up her mouth. I guess it depends on the person. I sure as hell didn't know love at sixteenor at twenty-one or thirty or thirty-sevenso I'm maybe not the best example. This is about you and Dr.

Bohunk, I'm assuming.

Yeah.

You think it was love?

Well, if it wasn't, it was as close as I ever got. Probably as close as I'll ever get.

Nola opened her arms and gave Kat a hug. As Nola pulled away, she focused her rich brown eyes on Kat's. Hear what I'm about to say. Are you listening?

Kat nodded.

Don't you dare give up, Kat. If anybody deserves to be rich, beautiful, and in love, it's you, and you're already two-thirds of the way there.

Thanks.

And I know you came here for revenge and all, but leave your options openyou might walk away with something even better. See you in the morning.

Kat locked the door behind Nola and went into the bathroom to wash, exfoliate, tone, infuse, and moisturize her face with the obscenely expensive skin-care system she'd purchased from the spa several days ago. She remembered thinking to herself that nothing was too extravagant if it meant Riley would be rendered weak in the knees at the sight of her glowing beauty. Well, the way she was feeling right then, Riley Bohland could just shove her glowing beauty right up his tight ass.

How could he be so cold and unfeeling to her? Sure, he was angry about Aidan, but hadn't Riley missed her at all? Didn't he care what had happened to her all these years? Why didn't he throw his arms around herif only out of curiosity?

Kat brushed her teeth, flossed, and turned out the bathroom light, trying to decide if what she felt inside her belly was a heaviness or an emptiness, or if there was such a thing as a heavy emptiness or an empty heaviness, and whether she should look into therapy now that she had the free time and disposable cash for it.

She threw on a cotton tank top and a pair of drawstring pajama pants, then went out into the sitting room to turn off the gas fireplace. OK, fine. Maybe this suite wouldn't be so bad for a honeymoon. It was cute and comfortable, and the bed sure was romantic. Kat guessed that if two people were really in love it wouldn't matter what the surroundings were. After all, an old blanket had once felt like a magic carpet to her and Riley.

Kat swiped what she was sure would be the last tear of the evening from her cheek and climbed up the bedside step stool, allowing her lonesome self to fall into the embrace of the gigantic four-poster monument to romance.

She'd just closed her eyes when she thought she heard a soft knock on her door. She held her breath and didn't move. There it was again. Kat climbed down the ladder and tiptoed into the sitting room. Someone was most definitely knocking at her door.

Kat, a man's voice whispered. It's Riley. Let me in.

I know; I know! Carrie switched the cell phone to her other ear and cringed with impatience. I followed him here from Davis Memorial. I'm sitting a block away in my car and, frankly, I can hardly believe what I just witnessed. How could you let him in? How could you do that to me?

Madeline's voice sounded hurt. What was I supposed to doleave him out there on the porch, banging on the door, disturbing everyone? I've got other paying guests here this weekend.

Fine. Carrie nibbled on the last rice cake in the package, calculating that with rice cakes at thirty-five calories each, she could have just eaten a jumbo-sized Snickers bar and gotten some real satisfaction, then thrown it up. Just make sure he doesn't stay long.

Madeline sighed. Carrie, I can't just barge in on people. My guests are entitled to /some/ privacy.

That made Carrie laugh. Little late for the high road, don't you think, Maddie?

I'm just saying

Get him out of there.

How am I supposed to do that?

Oh, I don't know! Damn, damn, damn! Carrie rooted around in her purse until she found the pill bottle, opened it, shook one out and stuck one on the back of her tongue, then swallowed. Don't forget to leave the kitchen door open so I can use your bathroom tonight.

Madeline groaned.

Carrie snapped closed her cell phone. Right then, she saw a light go on behind the honeymoon suite window. She knew which window it was. She'd stayed in that room many times over the years, whenever the occasion rendered it tasteless to stay at the Bohland House. That's how she and Madeline met. Carrie had been a guest at Cherry Hill many times during the course of the diabetes study. She had been a guest there the day of Aidan Bohland's funeral. A year later, she stayed there for Matt's swearing-in ceremony as chief of police. And she'd been a guest the day of the clinic's groundbreaking, when she'd smiled for the local papers like it was the happiest day of her entire life! But it wasn't.

That illustrious day had been stolen from Carrie a year ago, when Riley was told he'd knocked up a high school skank named Kat Cavanaugh and he had a teenage kid roaming the country somewhere. It had taken Carrie twelve long months to get Riley's head screwed on straight, and nothingno thing and no onewould stand between her and her happiness again.

Carrie relaxed her neck and shoulders and breathed deep, seeking her peaceful center. She closed her eyes to allow the positive energy to flow through her. She envisioned the bridal bouquet of red roses and holly. She pictured each miniature ice sculpture centerpiece adorned with mistletoe, glowing atop a contrasting red velvet tablecloth. She felt the snowy satin of her dress brush against her skin, the luxurious whisper of white chinchilla at the dйcolletage and wrists.

Her moment would come in seventy-four days. If it was the last thing she ever did, she would place one foot in front of the other and float her way toward the altar in the cutest little pair of kitten-heeled satin beaded slippers this earth had ever seen. /That conniving ho!/ Carrie grabbed the phone again. First she paged the love of her life.

Six times. No response. Then she called his cell. No answer. Then she called his answering service and demanded they page him with an emergency. She was informed that he'd already changed over for the night to the doctor in Bowden, who was covering for him.

Do you want the doctor in Bowden?

Carrie stared at the phone in horror, hanging up without a response because, no, she didn't want the fucking doctor in fucking Bowden. She wanted Dr. Riley-Fucking-Bohland. And she was going to get him.

Kat stood in the doorway wearing pajamas and an expression of bewilderment. Riley decided that without the fringed boots and the haute couture, Kat seemed smaller. Softer. And as lovely as every one of the thousand fantasies that had kept him company over the years.

Why are you here, Riley?

He tried not to stare and failed miserably. He stared at the way her hair swept back from the gentle angles of her face, the barely noticeable tremble in her plump lower lip, the delicate movement of the tendons in her neck. He stared at the sweet, small left hand that gripped the edge of the door, noting the lack of a wedding band. He stared at the rounded curve of her breast, the slope of her waist, the flare of her hip. He stared at the ten bare toes that looked so defenseless and pink against the dark hardwood floor.

He breathed deep, the essence of his youth rushing into his nostrils and straight to his brain, because Kat smelled the same. Even after all this time.

Riley shoved his hands in his pants pockets, which accomplished two thingsshe wouldn't see his hands shake, and it would keep him from doing the most stupid thing he could imagine: crushing her in his arms and never letting go.