“So you just took off, all alone?”

“It wasn’t so bad at first. It was summer, and there was fruit and corn to steal. I ate a lot of hot dogs. Became an excellent shoplifter.”

She laughed, incredulous. “You?”

“I was unbeatable. I told you, remember? Fasting makes me crabby.”

He fell silent, then, and she reached out to stroke his shoulder. It was rigid. “And then?”

“I lasted about eight months,” he said. “I found the places where the runaways crashed. But the winter got cold. One night, I was in this flophouse in North Portland. Some guys picked a fight with me. It ended badly.” He touched the scar on his forehead. “That’s where I got this.”

She leaned down, and kissed his eyebrow, his forehead.

“That was it, for me. I found a phone. Called Margaret, collect.”

“Margaret? You mean, you knew her then?”

“Freddy knew her,” he corrected. “From when he was a kid. He’d told me about her. So I gave her a try. The operator asked if she’d take a call from Freddy Kendrick’s nephew. And she accepted the charges.”

“Wow,” she whispered. “So you went to live with her?”

“For a while,” he said. “She was good to me. I joined the military as soon as I was old enough. Didn’t want to be a burden to her.”

She ran her fingers through the sable texture of his hair, and thought about it all. “You think I’m going to be like them, right?” she said. “Like your family? Running out on you?”

He rolled over, clapping his hand over his eyes. “Oh, fuck, Viv. Don’t do this.” He sounded exhausted. “It’s so beautiful. Don’t wreck it for me. Just let it be what it is. Please.”

“But I just want you to—”

“Let me have this, okay?” He sounded angry again. “For however long as it lasts. Can’t we just stay in the moment?”

She hid from the revealing shaft of moonlight that illuminated the quilt as she considered it. There was something to be said for staying in the moment, hard though it was. She was a normal, flesh-and-blood woman. She craved the usual reassurances, promises, declarations of trust, faith. Love. She wasn’t going to get them from him. Period.

But so what? That did not mean that what he gave her instead was not precious. Or that she shouldn’t cherish it anyway.

After all. Suppose they stayed in the moment, for, say, thirty years? Forty? Fifty? Maybe when he was a grizzled old man, he would give in, laugh at himself. Finally admit that it had been love all along.

She slipped back between the sheets and into his hot embrace.

The image made her smile, but her eyes were wet.

Chapter

9

Vivi stepped back from the wall she was painting and surveyed the warm ivory tone with satisfaction. She adjusted an elegant earthenware vase on its stand with her pinkie finger, the only finger with no paint on it, and stood back to admire the effect. Classy.

Her store was shaping up. Her friends were coming in from all over the West Coast to bring her consignments. Stock was pouring in. Just that morning, Betty and Nanette had left an assortment of handblown bottles and stemware. Yesterday, Rockerick brought leatherwork. Brigid left a pile of jewel-toned handwoven silk shawls and throws. Miraben brought teapots, vases, jugs, dishes. With her own stuff, the shop would be a gallery of wearable, usable art.

The bells over the door tinkled. Jack walked in. A smile spread over her face. His answering grin made her toes curl.

He looked around with his usual reservation. He disapproved of her decision to open the shop. Vociferously

“Looking good,” he said, grudgingly.

Well, my. Unusually positive, for him. She gazed at him, savoring the glow of sensual energy that hummed between them.

“You look incredible,” he said, leaning toward her.

Vivi pulled back. “Let me wash my hands. Paint cramps my style.”

“Hurry,” he said.

Vivi ran to the bathroom and scrubbed paint off her hands. She stripped off her T-shirt and cutoffs, threw her green dress over her head, shook her hair down. They had been lovers for weeks now, and she still got swirling flutters in her stomach when she saw him.

Jack gazed at the snowy bulk of Mount Adams when she emerged. “Great view,” he commented, as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

“It’s a great location,” she said. “Ten days, and I’ll be ready for my grand opening. So what brings you here, Jack? I thought you were taking those larkspurs and veronica into Portland today.”

“I did. The truck overheated on the way back. It has a broken fan belt. I left it at the shop.”

“So you’re bumming a ride home? You’re sure you can endure being seen in public in my disreputable van?”

“I’ll wear a Lone Ranger mask,” he said. “There’s a blues concert tonight, at the riverfront park. Want to go dancing?”

“Dancing? Wow! Yes!”

He cupped her head in his hand, kissed her again, and was maneuvering her toward the privacy of the little office in the back. She giggled, and pulled away. They’d gotten up to hours of juicy, delicious mischief back there on her secondhand desk, every time he came to her shop. But not today. “Don’t get any ideas,” she protested. “I have a lot to do before I can fling myself into the abyss of rampant sensuality.”

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours, then.” A dazzling smile, and the bells tinkled as he walked out.

Breath escaped slowly from Vivi’s lungs. She was terrified at how happy she was, but the feeling was marred by a keen edge of uncertainty. She was trying to get used to uncertainty, but it still rattled her.

The last few weeks were like a dream. The two of them spent every waking moment that they weren’t working together. She was sleeping in his bed, eating with him, living in his house. The apartment in the barn had turned into her studio, when she worked at all. She’d never been so distracted, so knocked off track. She was drinking too much of his powerful coffee, soaking in his big tub, eating his excellent cooking, wearing his huge shirts around.

Their hungry, intense lovemaking left her drained, shivering, empty of thought. When she was in that condition, she could stay in the moment, as he’d begged her to do. And she was in that condition a lot.

She’d gone on with her plan of opening a shop, in spite of Jack’s anger and protests, and the objections of her sisters. If she wanted to put down roots, she had to get on with it.

She tried to protect herself emotionally, the way Jack shielded himself from her, but he was intensely sensitive to her moods. When he sensed her withdrawing, he promptly seduced her and rendered her mindless and whimpering. But he never let down his own guard.

Patience. They belonged together. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They’d made progress. For God’s sake, they were going dancing tonight. How very normal of them. That was progress.

Everything else was perfect. The trendy location she’d found for her shop in Pebble River was ideal. A local woodworking shop was making a carved hanging sign that read “Vivi’s Treasure Box.” Glass-fronted cabinets were ordered and on their way. She’d organized wholesale accounts with the most talented artists she knew. Her credit was maxed to the limit, but hey. Life was risk. She could stand it. All she had to do was persuade Jack that they had a future together. The biggest risk she’d ever taken. The highest stakes. All or nothing.

But she had no idea what she would do with herself if she lost.

The breeze was warm at the riverfront park. The sensual blues tunes of the band from Portland pulsed through the evening air. A slow romantic song began, and Vivi and Jack merged without a word, swaying like a single body.