It was really happening for her, Vivi thought, in a haze of unbelieving happiness. They were going to let their fears and hesitations go. Together, they formed something greater than the sum of their parts. The music throbbed around them, and his body was the core of her spinning universe. She would never find another man so right for her, who moved her so deeply, and now was the moment to tell him. He was ready to listen. She could feel it.

She was so enthralled as she stretched up to whisper in his ear, she barely noticed the large hand tapping on her shoulder.

A big, booming voice intruded on her consciousness. “Vivi? Viv D’Onofrio? Sweet thing, is it really you?”

Vivi turned. A stocky blond man with a goatee, a waxed moustache, and a purple silk shirt stood smiling at her. A narrow tie dotted with suns and moons adorned his shirt. Vivi tried to place him, and he grinned widely, revealing his trademark golden eyeteeth.

“Rafael!” she cried out, as he enveloped her in a bear hug. “Is it you? What happened to the beard, the dreadlocks, the tie-dye?”

“And this is my disheveled pixie Vivi? You look stunning. That long, long hair! I could eat you up with a spoon! Give me another hug!”

“Put her down.” Jack’s voice was quiet, but authoritative.

Rafael swiveled his head, leaving Vivi’s feet dangling a foot off the ground. He took one look at Jack. She thudded heavily to the ground.

Rafael’s widened eyes traveled the length and breadth of Jack’s body. “Viv!” he exclaimed. “You devil, you! Where did you find this one?”

“Jack, this is Rafael, my buddy from art school, the guy I told you about. Rafael, this is Jack Kendrick. My van got stuck in his mud.”

“How provocative,” Rafael murmured. “The van clued me in that you were here. I saw it in the parking lot, and I’ve been prowling the grounds looking for you. And what does this Jack Kendrick do?”

Jack blinked at him, quizzically. “Uh…”

“He grows flowers,” Vivi supplied.

“How picturesque. I love it.” Rafael’s golden teeth flashed. “What are you doing in these parts, angel? Apart from, ah…the obvious.” His gaze flashed toward Jack, eyebrows waggling wildly.

“I’m starting a business in Pebble River,” she said.

Rafael’s eyebrows shot up. “Putting down roots?”

God, she hoped. “I’m burnt on the crafts fairs. But enough about me. Tell me about your transformation. Are you respectable now?”

“Prosperous, my dear. Different from respectable,” he said, fingering a diamond that glinted discreetly in his ear. “Remember Rudolfo, the promoter of the show we did in Monterey? He made me his site manager, and one thing led to another, and now I’m a promoter!”

“That’s great, Rafael! I’m so happy for you!”

Rafael twirled a diamond solitaire ring on his finger, batting his eyes. “Thank you. I was so ready to change my image. You should see me in full regalia! Armani, Prada. I look like a million bucks.”

She tugged his tie affectionately. “What brings you here?”

“Business. I was in San Francisco, setting up a gallery show. And I’m heading back to New York tomorrow, because some clients are flying in from London on Saturday—”

“Whoa, you’re riding high!” she said, impressed. “The last time I saw you, we were roasting hot dogs around a campfire!”

“Life marches on! The art in my New York gallery can be seen by appointment only, I’ll have you know,” Rafael said proudly. “Artists would kill to show me their work. I act disgustingly self-important. You’d laugh your head off if you saw. Anyway, this band is a fave of mine, so I popped over from Portland to see the concert before I fly back to New York, and am I glad! I’ve been desperate to get in touch with you! I have the perfect job for you, love. Mine!”

Vivi squinted at him, confused. “What? Yours? How?”

“You heard me. My clientele is growing, and I’m putting together high-end shows that travel, but with my gallery in New York, I can’t always be on the move. I need a curator and site manager. You could do for me what I did for Rudolfo. I’m talking invitational shows, where you handpick the artists, jury the art, curate the show, plan the tour, choose galleries, lofts, ballrooms, hotels. The money is extremely good. And a canny career move for a developing artist, if I may advise you.”

“Wow,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s a very generous offer, but—”

“Don’t make snap decisions!” Rafael admonished. “This job has been good to me. I want to pass on the good fortune! Think about it!”

“I’m speechless,” Vivi said, touched. “It’s kind of you to think of me, but the truth is, my life is complicated right now. And I’m kind of in the midst of something here.”

“I can see that!” Rafael eyed Jack with blatant approval. “But let me just explain how perfect my job is for you.”

Vivi abruptly became aware of the quality of Jack’s fierce, silent attention. “Um, Rafael, do you suppose we could meet for coffee and talk about this tomorrow? Now is not the best time for—”

“What better time? We arranged this time in the astral plane! I have to catch a plane tomorrow. Seize the moment!” Rafael took her arm and led her away from the crowd. Vivi glanced uncomfortably back at Jack. He followed closely, his face unreadable.

“Listen carefully,” Rafael began earnestly. “A sample month in the life of Vivi D’Onofrio, art promoter. One week in San Francisco, eating sushi and going to the opera. The next week in Berkeley, taking in wild experimental theater. A tour of the wine country in between. On to Los Angeles, San Diego, Santa Fe, always a different view. No fleabag motels, no moldy campground showers. You eat in award-winning restaurants, you sleep in five-star hotels. You deal in outrageously expensive art. It’s fun, stimulating, challenging. What do you say?”

“You know money has never been a big priority for me—”

“Oh, I know.” Rafael patted her shoulder. “But just try making lots of money for a while, and see how fast you get used to it.”

“The real reason is not the money,” she plodded on. “I’m—”

“This job is your way back into the high-end art world! Everything that bastard Wilder took from you, you can have again! I’m not suggesting you be a site manager or curator forever. I’m thinking about your long-term artistic career! If you go this road, with the contacts you develop, you can write your own ticket!”

“But my shop is already organized, and I—”

“A little shop in a little town has its charm, but think about it. Work with me for a while, and that scumbag Wilder will be eating your exhaust. Just imagine the satisfaction.”

Vivi imagined it. She twisted gently out of Rafael’s grip and wrapped her arms across her chest. Shivering, although the night was warm. The crowd swirled around them, but the music faded to the background of her mind as she pondered the images.

The big-time art world. Success, fame, money. The life she’d dreamed of as a struggling young artist. It didn’t make her heartbeat quicken anymore. She lifted her gaze past her friend’s expectant face, to where Jack stood, behind him. His stance rigid. Eyes fixed on her.

That life didn’t include Jack. The finality of that fact sent a stab of nervous panic through her. “Ah…ah, it’s tempting, but—”

“And you could play fairy godmother to your artist friends! You’d have the power to bring their stuff to the attention of the high-end buyers! You could change their lives! Wouldn’t that be grand?”

Vivi took a slow breath. “It sounds great, but I found a perfect location for my shop. I’m content with that. I’m staying put.”

She twisted to see if Jack was still listening. He was close behind, but when she tried to meet his eyes, he looked straight ahead.

Rafael’s gaze shifted, from Vivi to Jack, back again. “Ah. I understand, angel. You just think about it. I won’t push.”

Vivi turned to Jack and reached out to take his hand. “The band is starting another song. Let’s go back near the stage, okay?”