“I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going? When did you decide this?”

“I don’t know where I’m going, and I just decided.” She carried the hot – chocolate mug to the kitchen and rinsed it out. “I think I’ll move to Alexandria. I sell a lot of my pots there, and it would be closer to the Washington galleries.”

She turned on her heel and practically ran up the stairs to her bedroom. Do it, she told herself. Do it before you start blubbering. Do it before you lose your nerve. Do it before you make a complete fool of yourself and beg him to love you. She pulled a suitcase from under the bed and began throwing clothes into it.

Pat stood in the doorway, watching her, thinking she was the most intriguing, beguiling, impossible creature ever made. She looked like a little girl, with her red hair tied up in a fluffy ponytail, but there was nothing little girlish about the voluptuous body beneath tight faded jeans and a clingy yellow sweater. He was on intimate terms with that body, and the remembrance of evenings past tugged at his heart.

Megan reached into her closet for several blouses, then paused and glared at a long white garment bag. She made a sound of disgust and punched the bag.

“What’s in the bag?” Pat asked.

“None of your business,” she said, smashing the blouses into the suitcase.

“It’s a strange shape for a punching bag.”

“If you must know, it’s my wedding gown.”

His brows rose in surprise. “From Dave?”

“From Dave.”

“Why on earth is it hanging in your closet?”

She stopped packing and stared at the gown. “In the beginning, I didn’t know what to do with it. It cost a fortune. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away, and I felt foolish pawning it off on the Salvation Army. I was so filled with bitterness that I decided to keep it as a reminder of my own stupidity. I thought as long as I had that gown in my closet I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Pretty sick, huh?”

Pat smiled. “I don’t know. You’ve developed a decent right hook. You keep that bag around long enough, and we could get you a title bout.”

She stuffed a handful of panties into the suitcase, and he carefully rehung a blouse. She emptied her sock drawer into the bag, and he returned the panties to the dresser.

Megan looked at her empty suitcase in amazement. “What are you doing?”

“I’m helping you unpack.”

“Don’t do me any favors.”

He patted her fanny. “You look great in those jeans.”

“Hands off!”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck.

“Pat!”

“I can’t help myself. Mmmm, you smell nice.”

She wriggled free and snapped her suitcase shut. “I don’t need all that stuff anyway. I’ll go up for a few days, find a place to live, and then return with a U – haul truck.”

“I don’t want you to go, Meg. I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, but I have to go.”

He stalked her around the bed. “Bet I could convince you to stay.”

She looked at him warily. There was only one thing that would convince her to stay, and he wasn’t referring to that.

“I need a good – bye kiss,” he said.

“No good – bye kisses.”

He tackled her and flung her, shrieking, onto the bright red patchwork quilt on her bed. He crawled on top of her before she could scramble off, and kissed her quickly.

Megan immediately stopped shrieking and started kissing. They were good – bye kisses from the very bottom of her soul. Good – bye kisses to last a lifetime and store away in her memory. The good – bye kisses of a woman who knew there would be no more lovers in her future.

Pat drew away and touched her cheek with a trembling hand. “You’re really going.”

“Yes,” she whispered, pulling herself to her feet. She took her handbag and carefully walked down the stairs. You can do this, Megan, she told herself. One step at a time. Soon you’ll be out the door and into your car, starting life over again.

“Meg, you can’t go.”

“Why not?”

Why not? Because I love you, he thought, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words. “Because… because who’s going to eat the turkey leftovers?”

Her mouth dropped open; then she snapped it shut. She went straight to her car and climbed in behind the wheel.

Pat groaned. Lord, that was the wrong answer. This was no time to make jokes. The woman of his dreams was leaving. “Megan…”

She slammed the door, locked it, and gunned the engine. A shower of stones flew behind her as she peeled out of the yard.

Pat ran to his car and took off after her. He had to talk to her. Make her listen to reason. What was reason? That he was an immature jerk and was afraid to sign on the dotted line?

“Okay,” he said, “so I’ll sign. I’ll sign!” He beeped his horn and waved at her. “Pull over!” he shouted.

Megan gripped the wheel and stepped on the accelerator. The car backfired and the valves clattered in protest, but the machine surged forward.

Pat pressed his own accelerator, but nothing happened. He was maxed out at thirty – five miles per hour.

“Piece of junk,” he muttered, fuming. “Ugly, stupid excuse for a car.”

He was relieved to see Megan stopping for traffic ahead. Once she got onto the highway he’d never catch her, but while she was going through the commercial district he had a chance. He stepped on the brake and felt it go clear to the floorboard. He didn’t have any brakes!

He blew the horn, pulled on the emergency brake, and swerved to the right at the last instant, but he still slammed into Megan’s right rear quarter panel. There was the sound of tearing metal and crunching glass. Pat felt himself thrown forward against his seat belt, then everything was quiet, except for the soothing hiss of steam escaping from his cracked radiator.

He unstrapped himself and ran to Megan. Her car reminded him of a giant maroon accordion. He’d pushed her into a garbage truck, which appeared completely unscathed, but the snout of Megan’s car was telescoped into itself. “Megan!”

She looked at him glassy – eyed and blinked slowly. “I said no more kisses.”

“Are you okay?” He wrenched the door open and looked for blood, felt for broken bones. “Megan, speak to me!”

She eased out of the crumpled car and stood on wobbly legs. A crowd had gathered around them. A siren wailed in the distance. “What happened?” she asked.

He put a supporting arm around her. “My brakes broke. I couldn’t stop.”

“Oh, good,” she said. “I thought you were mad at me.”

An hour later they’d signed all the police reports and grimly watched the cars being towed away. “Don’t worry,” Pat said. “I have insurance. It’ll pay for your car.”

Megan sighed. “How are we going to get home?”

“The police officer said he’d give us a ride.”

“This has been some day.”

Pat nodded. “I’m probably being repaid for sending Dave home on a rubber doughnut. I don’t suppose you’d want to come to my house for turkey leftovers.”

She shook her head. “I want to go home. I’m going to take an aspirin and soak in a hot tub, then contemplate my future.”

“I’d like to talk to you about your future.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it. I feel a little… dazed.”

When the squad car stopped at Megan’s door, Pat got out, too, following his instincts as a doctor more than as a lover. Megan really did seem dazed, and he didn’t want to leave her alone. They stood on the porch for a moment, watching the police drive away.

It was mid – afternoon, and the sun was casting long shadows across the yard. A dog yapped in the distance. The tenant horse lounged against the split – rail fence in the far corner of the pasture.

“You’re right,” Pat said. “That horse is fat.”

“I feel like getting fat,” Megan said. “I feel like eating fifty pounds of chocolates.”

He opened the front door for her. “I’d go get you fifty pounds of chocolates, but I haven’t got a car.”

Megan felt tears burning behind her eyes. It had all been too much. “I think I need a hug,” she whispered.

He tenderly gathered her to him, stroking her hair, pressing a kiss against her temple. “Why is life so complicated?”

She didn’t know. She only knew that she loved him and needed him to hold her. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow or next week or next year. She didn’t want to think about marriage or babies or bashed – in cars. She wanted to be comforted. She moved closer, fitting herself to him, needing to absorb his warmth, his strength, his affection for her.

“Do you suppose for just one night we can pretend life isn’t complicated at all?”

When he answered his eyes were bright, his voice husky. “We can pretend for as long as you like.”

This was his fault, he thought. He’d brought this pain to them. He didn’t want to lose her, but he couldn’t promise to keep her.

He saw a tear catch on her curly red lashes, and kissed it away. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, finding it incredibly soft and warm.

The kiss was deep and intense with the unspoken love that throbbed between them, and Megan gave herself up to it. She could feel her body awakening, anticipating the pleasure, the mindless obsession to please and be pleased.

Pat sensed the difference in her attitude. She no longer needed comforting. She was indulging herself, reveling in the power of her own sensuality, inviting him to join with her. He answered the invitation with a kiss that was hard and urgent.

“So lovely,” he whispered. “I’ll never tire of you… the silky feel of your hair, the taste of your skin, the way you arch your back when my mouth is on you.” He was glad he’d smashed her car. What would he do if she left? He couldn’t imagine ever desiring another woman. Only Megan.