Kat shook her head.

A freakin' /hero/, hon.

Kat allowed the warmth of that word to spread through her. Maybe Nola was right.

Without warning, Matt squatted, pulled out a penknife, and sliced open one of the boxes. I'll unpack these last few for you, he said.

Virgil felt energized and brave. The buzz of power raced through his body, down his arms, and into his hands, where he would use it to give form to the raw beauty of the stone. Virgil had long understood that working with marble was the opposite of dealing with women. Marble was at its best when the artist respected its essence and found a way to coax its inner beauty out into the open. Women, Virgil knew from personal experience, must be molded to fit an outer structure.

Marble needed to be set free. Women needed to be managed. And any man who didn't understand that was a fool.

Even through Virgil's earplugs, the tapping of his heavy chisel against the rock sounded like an elaborate orchestral movement to him, the music of making art. He was working free-form today, not sure what had possessed him to risk it, without even a rough pencil sketch on the stone to guide his way. He knew instinctively what lay at the core of this solid, creamy pink block of Italian Carrara he'd been saving for over a decadefor what, he'd never known. Not until today. And his hands were flying and his mind was spinning and he was releasing, releasing, releasing the feminine from this rock, more than one face, more than one mouth, more than one set of eyes. He was releasing all that had been haunting him. All those women. Those breasts. Those buttocks. Those thighs.

Virgil suddenly stepped back, ripped off his goggles and paper mask, and walked back toward the door to get a better look. The dust was flying.

His chest was tight.

He couldn't die nownot fucking now!

He replaced the goggles and mask and went back to work. He picked up a point chiseler, a riffler, and saw them all coming at himweak BettyAnn, lusty Eleanor, know-it-all Katharine, and so many other faces. Then there was the doctor lady. He'd dreamed of her again last night, naked and willing and silent. And all these women blurred together into one vision, and it flew out of the stone and into his brain, through his fingers, back into the stone, and back into his brain again. He was easing the beauty out of the big chunk of marble while still managing to keep all those women in line. It was a delicate balance, but he could do it. He was the only sculptor who could.

Virgil stopped again, the old craving running so hard through his body that he felt faint. He wanted the doctor lady. Right here. Her smooth skin and dark hair. He needed to see the tops of her breasts, her clavicle, the slope of her thin shoulders. He needed to have her sit for him. He wanted to get his hands on her, choke the haughtiness right out of her.

Because he wasn't allowed to touch Kat.

His chest tightened again.

He refused to die before he'd brought his exquisite vision to life.

Matt pulled the flaps of the cardboard box apart, and a fold of red fabric poked through the opening. Kat gasped. Riley looked at her face and knew that whatever was in that box, she wanted nothing to do with it.

Stop right now, she said sharply.

Matt glanced up with surprised eyes, his knife poised over another box.

You don't want me to unpack these? He sounded hurt.

I'll take care of it later. Kat tried to sound casual. I'm just pretty tired right now is all.

Matt shrugged. You kick back and relax then, and I'll just No. Leave it.

Riley watched Kat smooth over her abruptness with Matt, and soon she had Matt and Nola talking excitedly about Nola's new job at Richard Keefauver's legal office in town. Riley wasn't sure how he felt about the two of them moving at the speed of light like thisNola had already given her notice at her job in Baltimorebut he gave her a big hug of congratulations as she and Matt headed out the door. Matt and Nola were adults. Just because Matt put the wild in Wild, Wonderful West Virginia and Nola had collected one husband per decade of her life didn't mean the two of them couldn't discover something that could last. One thing was for damn sureRiley had no place judging anyone else's love life.

I need a distraction, Kat said. She paced in the foyer, running her hands through her hair in exasperation. I need to get my mind off all this crap for a little while. In fact, I think I might need to hit something. She looked up at Riley. Got any ideas?

I certainly do, he said, with the wag of an eyebrow.

Kat exhaled in disbelief. Sex? How could you want to have sex with me?

I'm haunted by my childhood. I'm a nut job. I have visions. Pretty soon the voices will be telling me to do things. I'm an emotional slop heap.

I'm crazy. And this turns you on?

Riley moved closer to Kat and put his arms around her, laughing. He planted a sweet kiss on her mouth. I wasn't even thinking about sex, but obviously, you were, and here's a little secret we doctors usually don't share with the civilian population: If a person says they may be going crazy, they're normal. The ones who believe that all is well are the ones you've got to watch.

Hmph.

But I do think I've got something for you, he said, kissing her again.

You're gonna sweat a little, learn a few new tricks, and you'll be exhausted when you're done. How does that sound?

It sounds like what we did at Cherry Hill.

Well, it's not.

Kat looked down at herself. I bet I need to change, don't I?

Riley surveyed her outfita pair of gray dress slacks, high-heeled boots, and a sweater set in a nice soft pink. She looked sexy as hell, but it wasn't suitable for what he had in mind. Remember how you used to dress in eighth grade? he asked.

Kat looked at him with suspicion. That wasn't my best year.

Riley laughed. It's nobody's best year, Scout. Just put on some jeans and a sweatshirt, OK? Then you won't have to worry about your clothes.

Kat's eyes lit up and she smiled, and it was like a jolt of lightning went through him. Of all the sights in the world, Kat smiling and happy was the most beautiful he could imagine. Be right back! she said.

Riley watched her run up the stairs and was tempted to follow that beautiful little ass of hers to the bedroom but thought better of it. He could put the few moments alone to good use right down here on the first floor.

Riley went to the boxes. The blue ink had faded so much that it was hardly visible, but written on each box in an unsteady cursive hand were the words /For Katharine./ A chill went through him at the sight of BettyAnn's handwriting. Riley squatted near the open box and, carefully, he pulled a flap away from the red fabric and brushed his fingers over it. He thought he recognized this, and when he lifted a corner to see the black velvet trim and buttons, there was no room for doubt.

Kat had worn this coat when she was little. He remembered it. He remembered her in it. His heart clenched.

Not sure continuing was the right thing to dobut knowing he would anywayRiley reached under the heavy coat and lifted. He saw a stuffed rabbit, a few books, and several pieces of kids' artwork. Riley swallowed hard, wondering how these things had gotten to Kat and how their presence in her home was connected to her painful memory.

He heard her bounding down the stairs, so he put everything back in its place and met her in the foyer. She wore a pair of torn jeans and an Orioles sweatshirt. She looked so good he wanted to eat her alive.

I'm not ready to look inside those boxes yet, she said casually, opening the hall closet and choosing a fleece jacket.

How did they get here, Kat? Are they from your mom?

She nodded. Rita gave them to me. I went to see her at the school today and we stopped by her house. Riley helped Kat get her arms in the jacket sleeves. She said Mom gave them to her to give to me one day.