She wouldn't miss it nearly as much as she'd missed Clay during the past four months, she reminded herself. She couldn't even bring herself to consider how she would feel if she was separated from him now, after being given another glimpse of happiness with him. Even the thought was painful enough to cause her to flinch.
She quickly busied herself with work, pulling her thoughts away from the future, unwilling to dwell on the uncertainties just then.
* * *
"I missed you."
"I missed you, too. What did you do with yourself today?" Spring asked, her voice rather muffled since her head was buried deep within Clay's shoulder.
"I looked around, checked out Little Rock." He held her slightly away from him, giving her a proud-of-himself smile. "Did you know that this city has a symphony orchestra, two opera companies, a couple of community theaters, a ballet company, some very nice golf courses, hundreds of acres of beautiful parks, a zoo, a—"
"Clay, I know all that!" She laughed and clapped her hand over his mouth. "I've lived in this area all my life. Why are you telling me about it?"
"Just snowing off what I've learned today," he informed her after removing her hand. "It's a fascinating town. The chamber of commerce was happy to give me all kinds of information."
"You visited the chamber of commerce?"
"Sure. It's the best place to start when you're learning a new city."
Why was he going to so much trouble to learn about Little Rock? The question puzzled her until his lips distracted her by making a little trail down her throat toward the open neck of her summery dress. "What are you doing. Clay?"
"Can't you guess?" He unfastened one button, his lips following the downward path of his fingers.
"What about dinner?"
"I can wait awhile. How about you?"
She closed her eyes and moaned softly when he found her breasts with fingers and lips. "I'm getting hungrier—but not for dinner."
He laughed softly and caught her up in his arms. "We may both lose weight during these next few weeks."
"So we'll be fashionably thin," she replied, smiling as she put her arms around his neck.
"You don't need to lose any weight," he murmured, his long strides carrying them quickly to her bedroom. "I promise to feed you well tonight. Later."
"Yes." She reached upward for his kiss as he lowered her to the bed. "Much later."
Chapter Eleven
"Ahem."
"Just a minute, sweetheart, let me finish this article. It's about a psychologist here in town who has an interesting new method for treating emotionally disturbed teenagers." Clay held the paper a bit farther away from him, focusing with interest on the article that had grabbed his attention.
Spring sighed and walked up to his chair, sliding his stylish new glasses onto his nose. "Now you can finish your article," she informed him, then turned and went back to her own chair, where she'd been reading a professional-journal when she noticed that Clay wasn't wearing his glasses. She'd gotten them for him on Wednesday morning and it was now Thursday evening, and he was still having trouble remembering to wear them when he read.
Clay gave her a sheepish grin, then went back to his article, swinging his leg over the arm of the easy chair in which he'd sprawled—the chair he'd claimed as his own during the four days since his arrival in Little Rock. Spring ignored the journal in her lap to admire her lover for a moment. His hair was mussed, he was barefoot, he was wearing a vivid green polo shirt with blue-purple-and-jade madras-plaid cuffed pants, and he wore her cat draped around his neck like a muffler. He looked wonderful. The glasses, with their thin metal frames, were very attractive on him. She couldn't tear her gaze away from him.
She had never been happier in her life. She'd always thought it would be difficult for her to adjust to living with someone after being on her own for so long, but she loved living with Clay. They were completely compatible, in bed and out, and she couldn't bear the thought of living without him now. In four days he had implanted himself so firmly in her life and her heart that she knew he had become a vital part of her.
He was still spending his days, as far as she knew, roaming the local area, exploring anything that caught his interest. In the evenings he took her with him, showing her parts of the city that she'd never seen, even as long as she'd lived there. Only the night before they had taken a ride on a paddleboat down the Arkansas River, which ran right alongside downtown Little Rock. He was impressed by Little Rock's cosmopolitan development and the small-town atmosphere that somehow remained. He was amused by the fanatic loyalty to the University of Arkansas football team, the Razorbacks, as evidenced by the snorting red hogs depicted on signs, bumper stickers, clothing, household articles, billboards—just about everywhere he looked, he'd informed Spring.
"And this is summertime," she'd told him with a laugh. "You should see us during football season!" And then she'd fallen silent, wondering where he—where they—would be come fall. She only hoped that, wherever they were, they'd be together.
Clay had expressed an avid interest in seeing other parts of the state, naming off several places he'd like to see and things he wanted to do. Spring had accused him of being a compulsive tourist, but she'd made a reservation at a popular lakeside hotel in nearby Hot Springs National Park for the weekend, eager to show him as much as she could of her state while she had the chance. She was delighted by his complimentary attitude and hoped he wasn't just saying what he thought she wanted to hear. They'd decided to wait until the following weekend to visit her family in Rose Bud, though neither would admit aloud that they didn't want to spend time with her family until their future was somewhat more settled.
"You know, I think I'll give this guy a call next week," Clay mused, breaking in on Spring's thoughts as he looked up from his newspaper to find her gaze on him. "I'd like to meet him and discuss his new treatment method. It sounds interesting."
Spring smiled, knowing that Clay would probably be fast friends with the other man by the end of their meeting. He seemed to have a talent for making friends. Her neighbor, Mr. English, a man old enough to be Clay's father, had already become a friend, just from a chance meeting outside the apartments, and Clay had promised to go fishing with the other man one afternoon during the next week.