"You—" She stopped to swallow. "Oh."
He laughed. "Yes, oh. You're enchanting, did you know that? May I kiss you again, or do you still insist that I don't need your permission?"
"No! I mean, no, you can't kiss me again. Clay, I don't even know you!"
"That situation can easily be changed," he murmured meaningfully, lifting a hand to trace her
slightly swollen lower lip.
"No." She shook her head emphatically. "I'm only going to be here for twelve days, Clay."
"That's plenty of time," he replied, unperturbed, his fingers stroking her cheek.
"Look, I know things are...different in California, but I'm from Arkansas and I don't, well, to be blunt, I don't sleep with just anyone I happen to find attractive. So whatever Summer may have told you, I'm not interested in a vacation affair."
"Okay, so seduction is out," Clay replied cheerfully. A little too cheerfully, Spring thought with illogical resentment. Couldn't he at least have made a token protest? "How about friendship?" he continued. "Are you interested in making a new friend on your vacation, sweet Spring?"
"It is possible that we could be friends," Spring agreed cautiously. "But only on one condition."
"What's that?" he inquired, his fingers moving to the vulnerable spot just behind her ear.
"Stop calling me 'sweet Spring.'"
Clay laughed. "Fair enough." He kissed her cheek, briefly, barely touching her, then moved away. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll visit that room next door."
He paused at the doorway of the bathroom. "Oh, and, Spring?"
"Yes?"
"I don't sleep with just anyone, either. I don't happen to think Arkansans and Californians are all that different." He shut the door behind him as he entered the bathroom, leaving her standing in the hallway with her mouth open.
Moments later Spring stood once again before the mirror in her bedroom. Only this time the woman who stared back at her looked slightly different. Her neat knot of hair had loosened, allowing more tendrils to fall around her flushed face, her glasses were crooked and the white silk blouse was only halfway tucked into her skirt. Her sister had been right about one thing, she thought as she tried to straighten her appearance. Clay certainly was a toucher!
Summer had been right about something else, she added to herself in wary bemusement.
Clay certainly was not boring.
A short time later Spring toyed with the slice of cake her sister had served her, studiously avoiding Clay's gaze, though she could feel him watching her with laughter dancing in his eyes. Whether he was enjoying a private joke with her or simply laughing at her provincial response to his blatant pass, she didn't know. Nor did she attempt to guess. She was much too busy trying to forget the feel of his lips on hers and his arms around her.
The extension telephone hidden discreetly in a carved wooden box on a glossy end table rang, and Summer, who was closest, answered it. The others in the room lowered their conversation for her benefit, so everyone heard her say, "Frank? What's wrong?"
She listened for a moment, then exclaimed, "Oh, no! When?"
Clay straightened abruptly on the love seat beside Spring, his full attention directed to Summer. Spring noticed that her sister's eyes turned immediately in Clay's direction as she listened to the person on the other end of the line. "Yes, he's here," Summer said into the receiver. "I'll tell him. Please call me if you hear anything, Frank."
Before she'd even replaced the receiver in the box. Clay was up, standing over Summer's chair as he demanded, "What's wrong? What did Frank want?"
"Thelma Sawyer has run away again," Summer answered with a deep sigh. "She hasn't been home in a week. Her mother just got around to contacting Frank to ask if he's seen her."
Clay flinched visibly and shoved his hand through his thick golden hair. "Damn. What happened?"
"Frank said she had another fight with her mother." Summer pushed herself out of her chair and looked up at Clay. "What will happen to her this time, Clay? Will they let her go back to Halloran?"
"Not likely," Clay answered briefly.
Spring watched them closely, thinking that Clay looked somehow older than he had only a few minutes earlier. She knew that her sister worked part-time at Halloran House, a home for troubled teenagers, while she attended classes to obtain a degree in education so that she could work with the young people full-time. Spring hadn't known that Clay was in any way involved with the project.
"Clay," Summer said softly, leaning into Derek's arm as he offered comfort to his obviously distressed wife. "What if she gets into trouble again?"