She and Summer spent the morning roaming through some of the tiny shops of artsy-craftsy novelties for which Sausalito was famous. They examined paintings, pottery, sculpture, handcrafted clothing and accessories...and all the time Spring wondered where Clay was, what he was doing. Was he thinking of her? She even wondered irrationally if he was with Jessica.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, she berated herself furiously, staring at a romantic painting of a lovely Victorian home surrounded by vivid flowers. The painting was stylish, beautiful and so very San Francisco. The colors would look wonderful in her apartment, but she couldn't bring herself to purchase it. It would remind her too much of Clay. Something told her she would think of him enough without having such poignant reminders hanging on her wall. You have to stop this, Spring Reed. You have to stop this...this—
"Moping," Summer said from behind her.
Spring jumped and jerked her head toward her sister. "What?"
"I said, what's with all the moping? You've been off in another world all day. And it doesn't look like such a pleasant world, from the expression on your face. What's wrong. Spring?"
"Nothing. I was just admiring this painting. Lovely, isn't it?"
Summer allowed herself to be distracted, though not without a long, searching look at her sister's face.
Clay called later that afternoon. "I think it's time I introduced you to my cooking," he informed Spring with a wicked chuckle.
"I'm not sure I'm up to this," Spring bantered, though her knuckles were white around the plastic receiver as she gripped it in sheer relief. He hadn't given up. "Are Summer and Derek invited to this culinary experiment?'
"Not this time, sweetheart. This time it's just you and me. No sister, no brother-in-law and no ex-girlfriends. How does that sound?"
She knew what he was asking. And it had very little to do with dinner. "That sounds very nice," she answered him, wondering if he could hear the whispery thread of a voice that came from her throat.
He did. "Good," he said, and his own voice had deepened. "Ill pick you up at seven. Dress sexy." With that he hung up.
Spring stood holding the receiver to her chest, staring into space, until Summer walked into the room and politely inquired if Spring was having an out-of-body experience.
It took her over an hour to get ready for her date. Though she berated herself the entire time for being silly, she was dithered over her selection of clothing. After all, she reasoned nervously, it wasn't as if her date were going to show up in an average suit and tie. Who knew what Clay would choose to wear? Not that she could compete with his flashy style, but she would like him to admire the way she dressed. She settled finally on a slinky jacquard silk dress in a pale mint green. Showing tantalizing hints of cleavage and leg when she moved, the surplice wrap dress was fastened with a wide matching belt that emphasized her small waist.
The belt was the only thing holding the garment together. She'd bought the dress on impulse on that first shopping excursion with Summer. She wondered now if, even then, she'd had Clay in mind when she purchased the sexy garment.
She left her hair loose, skillfully applied pastel makeup and clipped on pearl earrings. She was ready. And her hands were trembling so hard she had to clench them in front of her to try to keep them steady. She'd heard the doorbell a few minutes earlier. She knew that Clay was waiting for her.
"You look beautiful, Spring," Derek told her sincerely when she finally came out of her room.
She gave him a grateful smile.
Summer opened her mouth to say something, noticed the expression on her older sister's face and changed her teasing to a quick compliment.
Clay took one look at her, pulled her into his arms and kissed her, deeply and passionately. She wouldn't have minded at all if her sister and brother-in-law hadn't been standing beside them.
"Clay!" she said, gasping, when he finally released her.
"God, you're beautiful," he told her with a grin, then turned to Summer. "I'm so glad you and Derek are st
aying home tonight."
Summer giggled. "Thanks a lot, friend. Maybe I should come along to chaperone this date."
"You'll never make it out of the house alive, pilgrim," Clay returned in his best John Wayne voice—mitigated somewhat by the unlined pink blazer and matching slacks he wore with a black-and-pink patterned shirt. Spring couldn't picture John Wayne ever wearing pink.
"You have to be the most uninhibited person I've ever met," she told him on the way to his house, thinking of that kiss in front of her sister and brother-in-law.
Clay chuckled. "I have to admit I'm not particularly dismayed by an audience," he agreed.
She thought of the things she'd learned about his childhood. "Is that why you dress so funny?" she asked curiously. "For attention?"
"Who dresses funny?" he demanded with mock indignation.
He obviously had no intention of allowing the conversation to get too serious, so Spring followed his lead and began to tease him about the unusual outfits he'd worn since she'd arrived.