“I have a couple of days off a week,” she said. “I could hit an early meeting and we could actually have dinner at dinnertime.” Then she smiled.

“You’re not fighting me on the idea,” he observed.

“So far you haven’t suggested anything that I ought to beware of.”

“Honey, I have no interest in scaring you.” He rubbed that knuckle along the smooth skin of her jaw. “You’re pretty and smart and being with you is good. If it’s good for you, too, we’ll keep going. The second it stops being what you want, all you have to do is say so.”

She shook her head and smiled. “If I’d run into someone like you years ago— Aw, forget it, that had nothing to do with it.”

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just this trap alcoholics sometimes get tempted by. Like if my life had been better, I wouldn’t have been a drunk. The truth is, my life wasn’t better because I’m an alcoholic. It had to do with addiction, not luck or intelligence or the right man.”

He grinned at her. “I sensed a suggestion that you might almost think I’m the right man.”

She patted his cheek. “You seem to be working out so far.”

“I’m going to put in appliances in a couple of weeks. That old place of yours is starting to shape up nice. Any interest in seeing it?”

She looked down. “I’m sorry, Dan. I know you’ve worked hard and spent good money. I don’t mean to downplay that. It’s just that house, you know? I hate who I was when I was there. Just stepping in the door, even when it’s all fixed up, takes me back. I hate it. I don’t care if I ever see it again. And I’m so sorry because that must hurt your feelings.”

“Nah,” he said, pressing her hand against his cheek again. “Not a problem. In fact, why don’t I just finish the job fast as it can get done and you can put it up for sale, get it out of your life. I’ll tell you what—I’ll snap a few pictures for you. That way you can get an idea what I’ve done and not have to walk through the door.”

“But if I sell it, where will you live?”

He shrugged. “I’ll find something.” Then he smiled. “Maybe something a little closer to you, if you don’t think that’s too pushy.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know why you’re doing this…”

“Aw, honey, you’re one of the most special women I’ve known. I’m real sorry you lived so many years without knowing that, but if that’s what it took to get you to this place in your life, good for you. I’m proud of you. Plus, I’m just plain attracted to you. Sorry, it’s the God’s truth, but don’t get worried. I can deal with the fact that you turn me on.” He grinned. Then he became serious. “Cheryl, you’re sweet. Good to the bone, kind-hearted, strong, beautiful, so easy to talk to…” Tears started to run down her cheeks. “Baby, don’t do that,” he said, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “I’m sorry, I’m pushing on you—I didn’t mean to.”

She shook her head and sniffed. “No one’s ever talked to me like that before. No one’s ever said those things about me before.” She sniffed again. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Then she got a scowl on her tear-stained face. “Dan Brady, if you’re playing me to get in my pants, I’m going to shoot you dead.”

He burst into laughter and pulled her against him. “Okay, Cheryl. If it turns out I’m one of those no-account losers just looking to get laid, you go ahead and kill me. But if you’re smart, you’ll wait till I get that god-awful bathroom remodeled. Jesus, that’s going to be a nightmare.”

She snuggled in his embrace. “Don’t make me shoot you dead,” she whispered.

“Okay, darlin’,” he whispered. “How about a phone call on Wednesday night and you see if you can wrangle a night for dinner. That work for you?”

“Hmm. That’s gonna work.”

“Come a little closer. Press up against me here, right on this bench. Kiss me like a girlfriend, I want to see if I should go to the trouble of calling Wednesday night.” She scooted closer. He threaded his fingers into her soft hair, cradling the back of her head in his palm. He pulled her mouth against his and let his eyes lower as he moved over her mouth slowly, deliberately, deliciously. Their heads tilted for a better fit; their lips parted and they both moaned softly. They didn’t hurry. When the kiss broke, he smiled very sweetly. “Might not call Wednesday,” he said. “Might have to call Tuesday. And Thursday. Unless I’m crazy, you’re ready for that.”

“That’s about all I’m ready for….”

“Good,” he said with a grin. “I like the job of talking you into things.”

“Just out of curiosity, do you make love with the fake leg?”

“No, baby,” he said. “I make love with lips, fingers, words and essential body parts. It’s been a really long time, but I think once I get in the stream of things, I’ll remember how it’s done.” He gave her forehead a kiss. “You worried about it?”

She shook her head. “You’re going to give me plenty of time, right?”

He smiled and brushed her hair over her ear. “I’m going to give you anything you need.”

Walt Booth leaned against his truck in the small parking lot at the Garberville airport, the runway on the other side of a fence. Muriel had called him from the jet shortly after takeoff to tell him when she’d arrive. The studio Lear was dropping her in northern California and then proceeding to L.A. with the director and another actor. It wasn’t long before the aircraft was in sight. He watched a perfect landing, then the Lear taxied to the boarding area. Airstairs popped out and Muriel was the only one to deplane.

She returned as she had left, wearing jeans, boots, a light suede jacket even though it was almost July, and the cowboy hat. She was followed down the stairs by the uniformed cabin steward who handed her a small carry-on bag. But unlike at her departure, she now had more luggage and a very large suitcase had to be retrieved from the baggage compartment. She shook the steward’s hand and pulled her bag behind her on its own wheels.

Walt had told her exactly where he’d be waiting. He pushed his hat back on his head, crossed one long leg over another, his thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his jeans, and waited for her to come through the small building that served as passenger check-in, dispatch, offices. He enjoyed the sight as she walked toward him, admiring her long, slim legs. She stopped a few feet away from him and smiled. “How are you?” he asked.

“Just about done,” she said, smiling.

“Just about?”

“I’ll have to travel some when it’s out, do some promo. And there will be events—Cannes, the Oscars, Golden Globes, that sort of thing.” She grinned. “I’ll have to get manicures and pedicures and special gowns. And you’ll have to let me dress you up for that stuff.”

“Aw, I don’t know…”

“You really wouldn’t argue about this, would you? I want you with me for things like that. I want you right beside me, and we’re leaving the pitchfork at home.”

“That would be kind of coming out to the world, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” she affirmed.

“Spoil your chances of getting it on with your personal trainer, you know.”

“My personal trainer is named Helga, and most of the time I hate her!” He laughed at her, tilting his head back. “At least you don’t have to fly to Montana every couple of weeks. You should be thankful.”

“I might miss Montana,” he said. “Good things happened with us in Montana. Full weekends of good things.”

It was her turn to laugh. “I can make sure you don’t miss Montana too much.”

He grew serious. “I’m so damn glad you’re back. I can see you every day.”

She stepped toward him, leaving her suitcase behind. She put her hands on his shoulders and he put his on her waist.

“I need to fatten you up a little,” he teased. “You’ve lost weight.”

“Weight I could stand to lose, too. Just being with you seems to plump me up.”

“Are you worn out, honey?” he asked.

“I’m tired,” she admitted. “I’m so looking forward to lying in your arms tonight for a good long sleep. Do we have obligations?”

He shook his head. “I told Vanni you were coming home this afternoon and that I would be indisposed for at least twenty-four hours. We’ll catch up with all of them on the weekend.”

He pulled her closer and swept the hat off her head, pressing his lips to her forehead. Just as he did that, there was a click-whir click-whir click. They both turned their heads toward the sound, startled. “Are you kidding me?” he said.

“Jesus, that makes no sense,” she said, spying a photographer with a powerful camera sneaking up on them from behind a parked car. “Me? Why would anyone want a shot of me?”

“Maybe it’s who you’re spending time with that’s the news,” Walt said with a shrug. He pulled her closer against him. “Let’s make sure there isn’t any doubt about that.” And he swept over her mouth with powerful intentions and, just as he had secretly hoped, the clicking went on and on and on. When he let the kiss run its course, he pulled back just a little and laughed. “That ought to do it.”

“That was very unlike you,” she said. “You don’t normally like that sort of thing.”

“Muriel, honey, I’m dead in love with you and it suits me just fine for the whole world to know it.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “So, you’ll let me dress you up for the production events?”

“I might.”

“I’m dead in love with you, too, darling. And so damn glad to be home. Where I hope to stay for a good long time. And, you’re going to wear whatever I say.”

“I will,” he said. “It’s my aim to make you happy.”

She patted his cheek and smiled. “We’re going to do just fine, you and I. Let’s get out of here and be alone a while. I need some peace and quiet.”

“In Virgin River?” he said with a hearty laugh. “Girl, this little town can fill up with more drama than your movie set.”