Walker glanced down at her feet and his grin got wider. “Better put on your boots, too. I don’t care if you go out in your nightgown and robe, but I don’t think those bunny slippers are snowproof.”

“Wake up, Paul. I need you!”

Paul opened his eyes to find Jayne leaning over him. He pulled her down and tried to kiss her, but she shook her head.

“Not that. At least not right now. Are you awake?”

Paul sat up and yawned. “I am awake. What is it, Jayne?”

“I know what was wrong at Clayton and Rachael’s. I finally figured it out.”

“Tell me.” Paul reached out for her hand. It was ice cold.

“Rachael didn’t take her fur hat, the one she always wore to keep her ears warm. She told me she got terrible earaches if she didn’t wear it.”

“Rachael may have had two hats. I would take the precaution of buying an additional, if I were that sensitive to the cold. I think you are mortgaging trouble, Jayne.”

“Borrowing trouble.” Jayne flipped over on her stomach so her voice was muffled by the pillow. “I guess you’re right. It just bothered me, that’s all. Will you rub my back, honey? I missed your back rubs more than a greenhorn misses targets.”

Paul straddled her body and began to massage her back, trying not to think of the other enjoyable things they could be doing in this very same position. He wasn’t successful, but Jayne relaxed at last and he continued to rub until her breathing was deep and regular and he was sure she was asleep. Then he covered her with the blankets and slid over to sit on the edge of the bed. Now he was wide-awake, wishing he’d given in to his impulse. Jayne would have welcomed him, he was sure, but he didn’t have the heart to wake her. Had Rachael owned two fur hats? The only person who could tell them was Rachael, herself.

Paul got up and walked to the window, where he had an unobstructed view of the pine grove below. The moon, a bright silver sphere in the dark velvet sky, sparkled like gemstones on the smooth sheet of unbroken snow. He smiled as he recognized Ellen and Walker out for a midnight stroll.

As he watched, Walker took Ellen’s arm to help her over an icy patch of ground, and Paul was pleased that Ellen didn’t pull away. He thought back to the first time he’d met Ellen, right after she’d moved into Charlotte and Lyle’s apartment. Painfully shy, she’d been friendly enough when she met her neighbors in the hall, but Johnny had been the only one she’d really talked to.

Jayne had made the effort, inviting her to their brunches and parties, and by the end of the first year, they’d been playing tennis every morning, Jayne and Paul against Ellen and Johnny. Ellen had turned out to be a natural on the tennis court. Tall and built for speed, she was amazingly agile and her backhand was dynamite.

Then the tennis had tapered off as the mannequin business had gone into production. Jayne had come home one day, awed by her first glimpse of Ellen’s mannequin, so Paul had gone to see the prototype for himself, and had barely been able to believe his eyes.

The skin tone was wonderful, but he’d been much more impressed with Ellen’s design. How had she come up with those wonderfully neutral yet expressive features? And the pliable body that could be arranged in any of a thousand incredibly natural positions?

They’d sat there sipping the champagne they’d brought and Ellen had shrugged off his praises. It had been pure luck, a pigment she’d mixed by accident while she was in college. Paul had sighed as he’d congratulated her, exasperated that Ellen didn’t recognize her own talent.

One night, a few months later when they’d driven down to Vegas for a night on the town, they’d seen Ellen and Johnny in a restaurant. Jayne and Paul had been seated in another room, but a lattice room divider gave them a clear view of Ellen and Johnny’s table. There had been only one word for the expression on Ellen’s face and that meant trouble. Jayne and he both knew Johnny’s reputation.

Jayne had tried to prepare Ellen for the inevitable, but there had been only so far she could go, and then the whole thing had blown up. Ellen had gone back to wearing her shapeless clothes and burying herself in her workroom. She’d turned down their invitations, claiming she was simply too busy to socialize. It wasn’t until Ellen had hired Walker as her general manager that things had begun to look up.

Jayne whimpered in her sleep, reaching out for him, and Paul hurried back to the bed. He cuddled up to his sleeping wife, shaping his body around hers, and then he went back to sleep, home once again with the woman he loved.

SEVENTEEN

Ellen’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You want me to do what?”

“Come on, Ellen, just try it. It’s really a lot of fun.”

“Forget it, Walker. That snow’s cold. And flat on my back? No, thanks!”

Walker looked down at her with amusement and Ellen felt herself blushing. If anyone overheard them, it would be all over the building in no time flat. “Have a little common sense, Walker. What if someone saw us? I’d never be able to face them in the morning.”

“That’s just an excuse.” Walker looked very serious. “You know no one’s up this time of night. And even if they see us, so what? They’d probably say, Isn’t that nice? Walker and Ellen are having fun in the snow. You’re just paranoid, Ellen. My wife showed me how when we first started dating, and we must have done it in every vacant lot in Chicago.”

Ellen couldn’t help it. She almost fell over, she laughed so hard. Walker stared at her in confusion for a second, and then he started to laugh with her. “Okay, okay. I know how it sounds. But I still don’t see why you won’t try it. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”

“Only a couple of minutes?” Ellen doubled over with an attack of the giggles. “Okay, I’ll do it just to shut you up, but you’ll have to teach me. I’ve never done it with anyone else before.”

That sent them off into new gales of laughter. Finally Walker calmed down enough to give her instructions.

“Ready?” Walker pulled her over to a spot where the snow was an unbroken sheet of sparkling white. “Now remember, Ellen. You’re falling uphill and the snow is deep, so it’ll be just like landing on a feather bed. After you’re down, don’t move a muscle until I tell you what to do next.”

Ellen gave a little cry as they fell backward. Her first instinct was to scramble to her feet, but she certainly didn’t want to do this twice.

“Ellen? Are your arms tight against your hips?”

“Yup.” She giggled.

“Good.” Walker sounded very serious. “Did you ever do an exercise called the jumping jack in school?”

“Of course I did. I used to teach first grade and Mary Christine Fanger lost her hair ribbon the first time we did it in gym.”

“Good, you’ve got plenty of experience. We’re going to do a jumping jack with our arms. Leave them level with the snow and drag them up over your head. Then back down to your side again. That’ll make the wings.”

“Got it.” Ellen raised her arms and brought them back down again. Walker was right. The snow was like a feather bed, a very cold feather bed, and she looked up into the deep black night to see thousands of stars sparkling overhead. They looked so close, she felt she could almost reach up and touch them. She shivered as she was suddenly struck by the vastness of space. She was only a miniscule speck of warm life in the icy void, so small and insignificant that she could disappear without anyone noticing or caring.

“Now the legs.” Walker’s disembodied voice pulled her back and she had an almost overpowering urge to reach out to touch him, just to make sure he was real.

“It’s almost the same as the arms. Spread them out as far as you can, then bring them back together again. And then don’t move. Ready?”