Then she did just that. She turned her back and raced to her truck, thankful that her keys were in her jeans pocket. Seconds later she was on the dirt road leading to the highway, leaving the danger of Cat behind.



TUCKER WATCHED THE DIRT kicked up by Nevada’s truck as she sped away. He couldn’t blame her for getting gone while the getting was good, but now he was stuck with Cat.

She didn’t seem concerned by Nevada’s abrupt departure. Instead she leaned into him and smiled.

“Come with me to the hotel,” she said, taking his hand in hers and tugging him toward her limo. “I want to know all you’ve been doing since we last saw each other. It’s been what? Four years? Five?”

“Ten,” he said, finding himself going along with her.

“That long? Time moves so quickly for me.”

She motioned for him to go first, then slid in beside him. The driver shut the door. Seconds later they were following the path Nevada’s truck had taken, albeit at a slower pace.

In the smooth leather seat, Cat angled toward him. “Tell me everything. You’re still working for your father?”

He nodded cautiously.

“You always liked building things. I know the feeling of creating something beautiful from nothing. To have that piece stand alone, pure.”

He wasn’t sure bridges and buildings qualified as pure, but okay.

“How long are you in town?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ll know when it’s time to leave.” She gazed at him. “Still handsome.”

He had to consciously keep from moving away from her. After all this time, he could still remember the first time he’d met her. She’d asked Janack Construction to build the installation for her latest piece and his dad had sent him to deliver the bid in person. He’d been a kid just out of college and she’d been unlike anyone he’d ever met before.

She’d been working on a metal piece about fourteen feet high when he’d walked into her studio. He remembered the sun pouring in the windows, the sparks from the welding and the sound of her laughter. She’d been laughing as she worked.

She’d climbed down the scaffolding to meet him. He’d taken one look at her and been lost. They’d introduced themselves, then she’d kissed him. They’d become lovers that afternoon, and she’d moved into his condo that night.

Being with Cat had consumed him. He’d blown off work, ignored his friends, spent every dime he had taking her places and buying her presents. Nothing had mattered but Cat. He’d been a junkie and she’d been his drug. Eventually he’d realized he needed to break free or he would be lost forever, but leaving her had been harder than he had thought. Each time he tried, she called him back and he’d been unable to resist.

Now, in the car, she reached out as if she were going to touch his face. He grabbed her wrist and lowered her arm to her side.

“Where are you staying?” he asked.

“At a hotel up on the mountain.”

“The Gold Rush Ski Lodge and Resort,” he said, relieved they weren’t at the same hotel. He was in town. A safe distance from Cat.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, he thought. It was that he didn’t trust himself. There were too many memories.

“Travel is exhausting,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “The public is so demanding. You remember what it was like. There is never any rest. Always something to be doing. The French government has commissioned a piece and I’m at a loss. There is so much beauty there already. What can I give them that shows my brilliance and yet pleases them.”

“You worry about what your audience thinks?” he asked. That was new.

She lowered her sunglasses so he could see the startling green of her eyes. The way the corners crinkled in amusement. “No, but sometimes I pretend I do.”

“That’s the Cat I know,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Did you think I’d change?” She looked out the window. “I spent the summer in South America. In the rain forest. The native people there are at one with nature. I learned so much from them — spiritually. I had thought perhaps butterflies for inspiration. Did you know there are butterflies who fly thousands of miles every year? They migrate. I was impressed, but they didn’t inspire me as much as I had hoped.”

She turned back to him. “You’ve been following my career?”

“It’s hard not to read about you,” he said, dodging the question. Honestly, he did his best to avoid all things Cat.

“I imagine it is. So much of my life is interesting to the press. You can’t know what it’s like to want to be like everyone else. To be normal. To walk to a grocery store without being hounded every step.”

“You want to go to a grocery store? Why?”

She smiled. “Perhaps not a grocery store, but you know what I mean. Being so famous and talented is difficult.”

“Your life is pain.”

She sighed and leaned against him. “I knew you would understand.”

Obviously the irony of his statement had been lost on her. Not surprising. But what was different was that the feel of her weight against him wasn’t distracting. He had no urge to put his arm around her or pull her close. Sure, she was beautiful, but so what?

He sat there, inhaling the familiar perfume and carefully probing his heart. The cliché that the opposite of love wasn’t hate but indifference suddenly made sense. He didn’t want Cat. He wasn’t interested in her. She was someone he used to know. Given the choice between getting naked with Nevada and the woman next to him, the decision was easy. Making love with Nevada had been pure pleasure with a big dose of fun. Mostly because he liked her.

That was it, he realized. He liked Nevada. She was someone he enjoyed talking to and spending time with. He’d never liked Cat. He’d been infatuated with Cat, nearly possessed by his desperation to be with her. But liking her hadn’t ever been part of their story.

He felt like Scrooge at the end of A Christmas Carol, when the old man found out he hadn’t missed Christmas at all. That he still had time to redeem himself.

Of course now he wasn’t alone with Cat. He would want to make sure that he still felt the same when it was just the two of them. But breathing just got a whole lot easier.

“What are you so happy about?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I’m a happy guy.”

They arrived at the hotel. One of the bellmen stepped up quickly to open the door and Cat slid out.

Although Tucker was right behind her and saw what happened, he couldn’t have explained it. As soon as Cat straightened and smiled, people came running. Two more bellmen appeared and pushed each other in an attempt to be the one to escort her into the hotel. Three members of the staff rushed toward Cat and welcomed her. A small, frightened little man with round glasses and pale, trembling hands joined the group.

“Ms. Stoicasescu, Ms. Stoicasescu, how are you? Are you feeling all right? Did the journey tire you?”

Cat smiled at the hotel staff, chose the arm of the tallest, youngest bellman and sniffed at the little man.

“Herbert, is my suite arranged? I’m exhausted.”

“Of course,” the little man said, nearly bowing as she walked by. “I have seen to everything.” The man glanced at Tucker. “Are you Mr. Janack?” he asked.

Tucker nodded.

“I’m Herbert, Ms. Stoicasescu’s assistant. She told me that she’s looking forward to you joining her for dinner this evening. Along with Ms. Hendrix. I’ve made reservations.”

Tucker thought about pointing out that Fool’s Gold wasn’t a reservation kind of town but figured the poor guy was dealing with enough.

“I have plans for tonight,” Tucker said with a drawl, enjoying his newfound sense of being his own man.

“But you’re expected.” Herbert sounded both afraid and horrified.

“Cat’ll have to learn to live with the disappointment,” he said and flagged a cab.

“But, Mr. Janack…”

Tucker ignored the little man, climbed into the back of the cab and started whistling.



“TELL ME WHY WE’RE HERE,” Dakota said, following Nevada down a hallway at the Gold Rush Ski Lodge and Resort.

“You’re here because you love me,” Nevada told her. “I’m scared to be with Cat by myself.”

“Why?” Montana asked. “She’s a brilliant, world-famous artist. She must be fascinating.”

“You’d think she was,” Nevada said with a sigh. “And in some ways she is. But in others…not so much.”

She didn’t have a better answer to why they were there, because she couldn’t figure out what she was doing there. One second she’d been back at her house, thinking that she needed wine and a bubble bath. The next the phone had rung, it had been Cat saying she desperately wanted to see Nevada, and that it would be a “girls only” evening. Nevada had tried to refuse, but she’d found herself saying yes, compelled by a force she couldn’t explain or, apparently, ignore.

“Cat is like nature. You can try to go on about your day, as if nothing is happening, but she wins in the end,” Nevada told them.

“That sounds intimidating,” Montana admitted.

Dakota studied the names next to the various doors. They were by the main ballroom, but in a hallway that was new to them all.

“What am I looking for?” Dakota asked.

“The private dining room.”

They separated, walking in different directions down the long hallway. The thick carpeting muffled their steps.

“Here it is,” Montana called. “The private dining room.” She pointed to the sign on the wall by a double door. “That’s really what it says.”

Nevada and Dakota joined her.

“Do we knock or just go in?” Dakota asked in a whisper.