Yeah, it would probably involve years of therapy for himself and Courtney before he would even get up the courage to chance a kiss.

But when he thought of Kelly, he thought of someone whose beauty and warmth enveloped him, someone he longed to hold, to sink into, to possess. There was a softness and allure to her that made him feel as though he had no will of his own. The second she’d walked into Jack’s he’d felt it, and to his surprise, he’d kept feeling it long after she was out of sight.

But it surpassed sweet comfort—he also thought of sex. Urgent sex. She was the sexiest thing he’d seen in a long time. He had a feeling he could be completely reborn in her arms.

He drove out to the house, parked in the front and rang the bell. She came to the door looking as if she’d just had a wrestling match with the Pillsbury Dough-boy—tendrils of her hair escaping a scarf that tied it back, something floury on her cheek, her apron stained pink here and there. She was drying her hands on a towel. “Lief!” she said. “You’re about the last person I expected to see!”

He nodded. “That’s because I said I would call. But—I got away without a number. If you’ll give me one, I’ll leave now, drive to the bar in town, call you and drive right back. So it doesn’t look like I’m imposing on—” He sniffed. “What is that wonderful smell?”

She smiled at him and he realized at once that it was really too easy to bewitch a chef—just smell her cooking and she was as good as captured.

“I’ve been baking. The rhubarb crop is in and apparently I’m the only person in a hundred square miles who can make a good rhubarb pie. And then there’s rhubarb jam.” She shrugged. “It was going to go bad if I didn’t.”

He almost swooned from the aromas. “Thank God you came to town,” he said.

“Come in,” she invited with a laugh. “I’m just cleaning up the kitchen. I’ll see if Jill has time to take you for a tour of the house and grounds. Then, if you’re very good, I’ll give you a slice of pie.”

“Are you sure? Because I really meant to call in advance and ask you to pick a time…”

“I’m picking a time,” she said, pulling on his hand. “Come in. I’m still busy in the kitchen and kind of desperate for my shower, but maybe Jill is free. Let’s see.”

He followed her into the house and noted there was no furniture until he got to the kitchen. There, as promised, was a mess. But resting on the kitchen table in the large breakfast nook were ten pies. And there were now other smells. His head tilted back and his nose began to work the room.

She noticed. “I’m roasting a leg of lamb for dinner. Can you stay?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’m imposing…”

“On a chef?” She laughed. “I’m more likely to be insulted if you decline.”

He grinned at her. Maybe that old saying about the fastest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was true, because suddenly he wanted her even more. Wanted! He really thought he was far past that kind of fierce yearning. He had found himself amazed even to be intrigued. This desire was just awesome, and he relished it. “I’ll stay. My daughter is doing homework with a friend and having dinner there tonight.”

“That’s right,” she said. “There’s a daughter. I apologize. I’d forgotten. I’ll have both of you next time.”

He just laughed; they’d have to revisit that idea. “Courtney is actually my stepdaughter, though she uses my last name. It’s complicated. I’ll explain later. But what are you going to do with all those pies?”

“I don’t know. I could use a bigger freezer, but only the most essential equipment is in the house at the moment. I guess I’ll spread ’em around. A few for Preacher, that’s for sure—he told me he’s been trying to make a decent rhubarb pie for years. I can’t believe how much stuff Jill has that’s running out of time—tomorrow I have to get a good start on blackberries. She’s had friends and neighbors out here picking for a good month and there’s still such a big crop left, someone has to do something with it. Blackberry preserves, jam, pie filling…. I came up here to surf the Net for a job, and I’m working my tail off. Let me go out to the garden and ask her if she has time to scoot you around in her garden mobile…”

“Garden mobile?”

“It’s how she gets between her gardens. Have a seat— I’ll be a minute.”

As Kelly hurried out the back door, Lief didn’t go far. He pulled out one of the stools at the work island and just looked around. For some reason, all the messy pots and bowls around the large kitchen made him feel at peace. Ever since growing up on a farm with a lot of siblings and hands, a busy, messy kitchen full of good smells always made him feel safe and protected. And the sight of ten pies cooling on the table was familiar as well—his mother always baked en masse, sharing with family, friends, neighbors, anyone.

Kelly was back quickly. “Jill has just been kicking around the pumpkins, squash and melons. She’s right outside. While you have your tour, I’m going to clean up my mess.”

He stood. “If you wait, I’ll help. I had good training. I’m a good kitchen cleaner.”

“Maybe you’ll get your chance another time. Go on—she’s waiting for you.”

Even though Lief was more interested in the chef than the landscape, he really got into his tour. Jill drove him around acres of land that was partially prepared for organic farming. A winter crop had been started; she was drying seeds from her own fruits and vegetables for the next season’s crop, and she’d started building retaining walls to use like steppes to level the slope of the hill to maximize her planting space in the spring.

The fall harvest of pumpkins, melons and squash was amazing—pumpkins that could indeed make Cinderella’s carriage.

“I’m saving the really big ones from Kelly so the town kids have a crack at them. She has a pumpkin soup she can’t wait to get to and so I’m pushing the smaller ones at her. And these huge zucchini and winter squash—it’s more experimental than anything. Come on, let’s go see what Colin’s painting. This morning he was working on a herd of elephants. He’s just back from shooting the Serengeti—lots of beautiful big game.”

The sunroom on the second floor of the house stretched the length of the building across the roof of the back porch. That was where Colin liked to paint because the light was good. The paintings—ranging from wilderness art to big African game—were astonishing. Also in that sunroom were a sectional, entertainment center and large flat-screen TV—their living room, or a reasonable facsimile.

Lief was fascinated by the creativity in this house. Jillian stretched her imagination in the garden, Colin painted incredible animals from all over the globe, and Kelly was cooking. Today it was pies, but tomorrow it could be dishes that might only be found in a five-star restaurant in San Francisco.

“Come on, Lief,” Colin said. “Let’s get a beer and sit on the back porch. Jilly has to shower off the garden and Kelly is working on making me the shape of Santa Claus. We’re on our own.”

“I feel like I should help somehow,” Lief said. “I dropped by unexpectedly and now I’m even going to be fed and entertained. Maybe I could hose off the gardening equipment or wash the pots.”

Colin just laughed at him. “What I’ve learned is—these girls are going to do exactly what suits them and the best thing for you to do is stay out of the way.” When they got to the kitchen, Colin opened the refrigerator and surveyed the contents. “We have ‘near beer’ and high-test. What’s your pleasure?”

“The real deal, by all means,” Lief said. “How did you stumble into this nirvana?”

Sitting on the back porch in perfect October weather, Lief heard about how Colin came to Virgin River after being retired from the army, a place to recover after a helicopter crash while Jillian had escaped a corporate job in Silicon Valley. They found each other by accident, but in a town of roughly six hundred, they were bound to meet. It was the falling-in-love part that was extraordinary. “I’m not a young guy,” Colin said. “I don’t think Jilly would be offended to hear me say I’ve met a few women—quite a few. I lived a transient, military life and wasn’t ever tempted to settle down. But Jilly? She makes me want to grow my roots deep.”

“Sounds serious,” Lief observed.

“Oh, I’m serious about Jilly. But we’re winging it for right now—just one day at a time. What about you? How did you end up in a place like this?”

He retold the story—wife died, daughter having a hard time of it, needing a smaller, friendlier town than L.A., trying to get past the rough patch of losing a wife and mother, fresh start. The question about what he’d done in L.A. didn’t come until later, when they were all sitting down to dinner together. “I’m a writer,” he said.

“As in newspaper?” Kelly asked.

Right then he suspected he was completely safe from any kind of notoriety. “No, as in script writer.”

“Seriously?” Jillian asked. “Like TV or something?”

“Something like that. Movies, actually,” he said.

“How interesting,” Kelly said. “I haven’t seen a movie in years. Well, I sometimes see them after the Academy Awards, when they finally make the cable networks. I’ve been held hostage in kitchens since I was eighteen.”

“And I was taken prisoner by a software manufacturer,” Jill said.

“I’ve been either in Afghanistan or the hospital. You don’t write war movies, do you? I only go for war movies.”

Lief smiled. “Nah. Mostly just family stuff. Kind of ‘coming of age’ stuff.” He was completely safe. Even if they’d heard of the films, they would never have heard of him, which was absolutely perfect. “This is the best lamb I’ve ever tasted. And these potatoes—fantastic. I grew up on a potato farm in Idaho and I’ve never experienced anything like this.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I was missing one or two things, but I think it all worked out.”

“Look out, Lief,” Colin warned. “She’s a little hard on the waistband.”

“You could take it easy,” she suggested. “You don’t have to stuff yourself.”

“Then stop making everything so good!” Colin argued.

Although Kelly was prepared to clean up her kitchen and Lief offered to help, they were pushed away by Jill and Colin. They took cups of hot coffee out to the back porch and enjoyed a cold fall evening. The sky was clear and peppered with a million stars; there was no wind, but the temperature had dropped significantly.

For a long time they sat in silence, enjoying the clean air, clear sky and hot mugs in their hands. Finally it was Lief who said, “This is a wonderful, artistic house—the growing, painting, creating in the kitchen…”

“And beautiful,” Kelly confirmed.

“Will you stay awhile?”

She shrugged before she said, “Jill and Colin are kind of new together. They’ve only been a couple since summer. I don’t want to cramp their style, if you get my drift.”

“You think they need privacy,” he said.

“All new couples need privacy.”

“I don’t know about Jill, but Colin seems to enjoy having you in the kitchen.”

“Don’t get me wrong, no one is making me feel like I should move on. But I’m thirty-three—and I don’t want to live with my sister for the rest of my life. I need a little time to get over—” She stopped to think. Get over La Touche? San Francisco? Luca? Her disastrous treadmill? “I think a brief vacation is in order. Then I’d better get on with things.”

“Well… I hope it isn’t too brief,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind a chance to get to know you better.”

She chuckled. “That almost sounded like a flirt. From a Disney kind of guy…?”

He turned in his chair to look at her. “Is that how I seem?”

“Isn’t it what you said? Movies for families? Disney comes to mind…”

He smiled just slightly. “And you?” he asked. “Betty Crocker?”

“Ack! Please!” she said. But then she laughed. “All right, all right. I shouldn’t make rash judgments. I’ll be here for at least a couple of weeks, and that’s if finding my next position is very easy.”

“After eating your dinner tonight, not to mention the pie, I’m sure you’re going to find the next gig pretty quick.” He took a sip of his coffee, then glanced at his watch. “I should go. I have to pick up Courtney before she wears out her welcome. It’s her first visit to her friend’s house.”

“You act like you can’t trust her at all,” Kelly observed.

“I can’t. Like I said, she’s had a real struggle since her mom died.” He stood. “But we’ll get through this, one way or another. A normal girlfriend from an average family could go a long way to helping that effort.”

Kelly stood also. “Is this her first normal friend?”

“Her name is Amber. I talked to her folks to be sure the after-school and dinner invitation was cool with them. They’re farmers with three grown and married sons and grandchildren. I got the impression Amber is the caboose—an afterthought, maybe. Courtney describes her as kind of dorky but nice. A couple of nights ago I left her alone for two hours and went home to find her with a seventeen-year-old guy who brought beer and was liberating the DVDs from my entertainment center while Courtney was in the bathroom.” He smiled just slightly. “Dorky Amber sounds like a dream come true.”