"Was that the same woman you were with the night you met Summer?"
He grinned. "No."
She lifted an imperious eyebrow behind her glasses, trying to sound regal and condescending. "You have a thing for bitchy brunettes?" she asked distastefully.
"I suppose I did at one time," he answered thoughtfully, looking rather surprised at his own answer. Then he winked at her. "Guess I knew they were safe enough to hang around with until I found a particularly sweet blond."
She tossed her head. "Just don't feed me any lines right now, will you, Clay?"
Unable to resist, he hugged her. "Why, Spring Reed, I do believe you're jealous."
She glared at him. "Yes, dammit, I am. And I know full well that it's stupid and illogical and totally unjustified, so just don't start with me, McEntire, or I'll...I'll...I'll walk out of here and leave you t
o that barracuda!"
"Oh, please, not that!" he murmured, laughing softly. On his face was a look of such wholly masculine satisfaction that Spring wanted to hit him. She really did.
"I want a drink," she told him flatly. "And I don't want club soda."
"Anything you desire, sweetheart," he answered her with mock subservience. "If you're tipsy, it will be all the easier to seduce you later."
She refused to respond to that in any way.
She wasn't tipsy, but he came close to seducing her, anyway. They had left the party not long after the encounter with Jessica. Clay claimed that he had a headache. The other guests actually believed him; it seemed that he'd been exceptionally well behaved that evening. Summer went so far as to call him "dull." Spring knew good and well that the headache was nothing more than a fabrication, but when he innocuously asked if he could stop by his place for an aspirin before taking her back to Sausalito, she told him she didn't mind.
"I can't believe you're stopping this now," Clay complained later in a ragged voice, looming over her on the deep terra-cotta-colored sofa. "We were doing so well."
About half an hour had passed since they'd entered Clay's house. Spring's blouse was open to the waist, her hair completely free of the pins that had once held it, and she was panting and flushed with passion. Clay wasn't in any better condition, his shirt open rakishly to the button of his now indecently tight pants, his hair rumpled boyishly around his face, his eyes unnaturally bright.
She inhaled deeply, tugged her blouse across her straining, well-kissed breasts and shook her head against the sofa cushion. "You promised you'd stop whenever I asked you to," she reminded him huskily.
"Yes, I know. But I kinda wish you'd asked a bit sooner, if you just had to ask." He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he reluctantly sat up.
She chewed guiltily on her lower lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—It's just that, well, I got a little carried away."
He pulled her into his arms, nuzzling his cheek against hers. "You liked what we were doing, didn't you, Spring?"
She almost moaned at the renewal of feelings she'd just barely gotten under control. "You must know that I did."
"So why are we stopping? I want you, Spring, and I think you want me. You do, don't you?"
Buttoning her blouse, she glanced upward through lowered lashes. "Yes. I want you. But I can't make love with you tonight. The timing's all wrong."
He looked puzzled. "Why?"
Struggling to explain, even to understand herself, she twisted her hands in the lap of her wrinkled plaid skirt. "It's because of that woman."
He didn't have to ask which woman. "Spring, whatever was between Jessica and me was over a long time ago."
"I'm sure that's true. But the point is that I was jealous of her tonight. And I'm afraid that if I made love with you now, it would be because I was competing with her in some way. That's not what I want. I want to be sure I know what I'm doing, and why I'm doing it, before I make such an important decision. I don't take things like this lightly, Clay."
He dropped his forehead to rest it against hers. "Darling Spring, I love everything about you, I really do, but that convoluted mind of yours is driving me insane."
He loved everything about her? She savored the words for a moment. They were a bit like saying he loved her, weren't they? But still not enough. She was so close to loving him. She wouldn't be able to stop herself if they made love now. Maybe it was already too late, but surely she had to try. She had only five more days with him.
* * *
By Saturday afternoon Spring knew she'd made a mistake. Hours had passed since she'd last seen or heard from Clay and still her body throbbed with frustration. She wanted him in a way that was all new to her. She'd been stupid to stop him when he'd been making such beautiful love to her, she decided morosely. She wouldn't blame him if he wrote her off as neurotic and stayed completely away from her for the next four days. But how she hoped that he wouldn't!