"No, sweetheart," he admitted, "I'm not saying that. I'm saying that at forty-one a person is better equipped to handle the consequences of his actions. But your mother is wrong about one thing. There's no reason to feel guilty for kissing boys when you're fourteen years old. As a matter of fact, that's exactly how old I was when I started kissing girls, and you know who the first one was?"

She shook her head, mesmerized by the sudden turn of the conversation.

He smiled, looking down into her pretty brown eyes, the freckles on her cheeks, her generous bowed lips, which were very much like his. "It was Rachel Talmadge-that was her name then."

"You've known her that long?"

"Uh-huh. Since we were kids."

But instead of impressing Beth, the fact made her stiffen and pull away. Puzzled, Tommy Lee watched her turn toward the stove again, and the momentary rapport between them was broken.

"I made you grits and sausage while you were gone, since Georgine didn't hold breakfast for you."

He watched her get a plate and spoon grits onto it, then move to the sink to fill the kettle with water, and he was suddenly weary, wondering how to deal with her jealousy. She stabbed three sausage links and added them to the plate, switched off the burners and turned expectantly with her offering in her hands, and Tommy Lee thought, Lord, will the way ever be smooth for Rachel and me?

"You don't like talking 'bout Rachel, do you?" he asked.

Her tone was defensive as she blurted out, "I wish Mother had been your first girlfriend. Then maybe you'd still be married to her."

And after that it seemed best to drop the subject of Rachel for the time being until things smoothed over a little bit.

During the weekend Beth displayed an increasing possessiveness about her father. Though he admitted he was again being manipulated by a female smart enough to realize he felt guilty and to use that guilt to get what she wanted, he went along readily with her plan for him to take her shopping for school clothes in Muscle Shoals. The following morning when they glimpsed Rachel on the church steps, Beth commandeered Tommy Lee's arm and maneuvered him inside before he got a chance to talk to her. The remainder of that day was devoted to taking Beth's new friends waterskiing, and when the afternoon finally ended, Tommy Lee wanted nothing so badly as to see Rachel for a couple of hours, having thought of nothing but her for two solid days. But when he casually mentioned that he thought he'd drive into town to pick up some things from his office to glance through at home, Beth immediately said she'd ride along with him.

Finally, late Sunday night, Tommy Lee escaped to his room so he could call Rachel. At the sound of her hello a sharp upthrusting stab of love pressed beneath his heart and suddenly everything seemed right again.

"I've missed you," he breathed, closing his eyes, lying flat on his back across the bed.

"And I've missed you. I looked for you all day today."

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it, but it appears we have one problem I hadn't counted on."

"It's Beth, isn't it?"

He rubbed the corners of his eyes. "God, is it ever. She acts as if she doesn't want me out of her sight for a minute. She wasn't exactly happy to see me getting home in the middle of Saturday morning and wanted to know where I'd been."

"Did you tell her?"

"She guessed." He scowled at the ceiling.

"She guessed?… But how?"

"She called you `the woman on the church steps.`"

"Ahh… of course."

"Was I that obvious when I looked at you?"

Rachel's soft laugh came over the wire. "Was I?" He pictured her as she'd been Friday night, soft, pliant, smelling sweeter than anything nature had ever conjured up. He felt his body nudging toward arousal at the mental images.

"All I've thought about since walking out of your house is you. While I was chauffeuring Beth all over Muscle Shoals, and driving a speedboat full of shrieking teenagers, I wanted to be only one place."

"Where?" she murmured in a soft, seductive voice. It was not the words that mattered, rather the subtle nuances of two lovers infatuated with the mere act of listening to each other breathe.

"In your bed. In you."

Her breath again seemed to brush his ear. "Tommy Lee, I want to see you tonight. Can't you come over?"

"I'm tempted, darlin', but if I did I'd never come back home, and I promised Beth I'd be spending nights here from now on."

She sighed in disappointment, and he pictured her curling into a ball in the middle of her bed. "When will I see you again?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. I'll pick you up as soon as you close the store."

"I'll have my own car there. Meet me at the house instead."

"Do you think we can hang in there till then?"

"I don't know. We have a lot of lost time to make up for, don't we?"

His voice held a tremor as he declared, "But we will, babe, we will."

"I can't wait. Can you stay for supper tomorrow?"

No matter how much he wanted to, he answered, "I'm afraid not. Beth's got something special planned for the two of us. She's doing the cooking."

"Well, next time, then."

"Next time for sure." Tommy Lee stifled a yawn-he hadn't had much sleep all weekend. "Rachel, I'm exhausted. I've been on the water all day."

But she wasn't ready to give him up yet. "Are you in the bedroom?" she asked.

"Yes, staring at the ceiling and picturing you as you were Friday night."

"Our bedroom?" she inquired softly.

"Yes… our bedroom."

"What's it like?"

"It's carpeted in blue to match the lake. The whole west wall is glass, and it's the only room in the house with draperies-they're the color of the sand on the beach. There's a king-size bed with a spread that's striped and kind of 371 soft."

"What's it made of?"

"Made of?" He rolled his head to check it out, smiling at the questions women came up with. "Hell, I don't know. It's got stitches all over it."

"It's quilted, you mean?"

"I guess so."

"Well, if I'm going to sleep there I have to know these things. Go on. Tell me more."

As teenagers, late at night after curfew, they used to talk on the phone like this-lazy inanities, unimportant chatter meant to do nothing more than delay the inevitable goodbye. Tommy Lee smiled, assessed the room, and imagined her entering it for the first time. "Across from the foot of the bed is a fireplace smaller than the one downstairs and with an arched opening. And do you remember once years and years ago when you told me you liked rocking chairs?"

"No, did I?"

"Well, there are two of them, big fat things covered with some kind of fuzzy blue stuff, one on either side of the fireplace. There's a walk-in closet big enough to put your whole store into." She chuckled appreciatively and he went on. "And beside the closet door is a valet chair with nothing on it at all right now. Everything's neatly put away."

There wasn't even a hint of laughter as she sighed. "Oh, Tommy Lee, I love you. I can't wait to live there with you."

At her confession his heart cracked like a flag in high wind, and he experienced the renewed wonder of dreams coming true.

"Tell me again, Rachel-I still have trouble believing it."

"I love you," she whispered.

He closed his eyes, absently running his free hand over the quilted spread as if it were her skin. "I want us to get married as soon as possible."

"I do, too. Did you tell Beth we want to?"

His eyes opened to study the ceiling again, and the hand that had been stroking the spread rested with its wrist against his forehead. "No, not yet."

"So she really is upset about the other night?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I should have thought of her. How selfish of me to keep you here overnight."

"You'd have played hell trying to get me to leave-don't you know that?" She laughed, but the sound was slightly strained. He drew a deep breath and went on, "Don't worry about Beth. I'll tell her soon. Then I want the two of you to meet. Properly. Out here at the house where we're all going to make it as a family. We are, Rachel, I swear it," he pledged intensely. Then, as if sealing a vow, he added prophetically, "Tommy Lee and Rachel and Beth."

"I'll hang on to that thought," she promised. "And I'll see you tomorrow at five."

The clock seemed to crawl as the following afternoon waned. Just before closing, Rachel stepped into the washroom to check her hair, dust her cheeks with blusher, touch a wisp of scent to her throat, and apply fresh rosy gloss to her lips.

In fifteen minutes I'll be with him again.

Her heart felt borne aloft by a bevy of butterflies. Life was a constant surprise. Who ever would have said one week ago that she would be experiencing this resurgent zest that lit her eyes, put a lilt in her step, and made her press a hand to her heart, as if to hold it captive within her body? And all this at the mere thought of Tommy Lee Gentry.

It was uncanny how one could revert to self-indulgent daydreaming when smitten by love, no matter what one's age. All day long she'd been wondering what he'd be wearing, what he'd say when he first saw her, fantasizing about their first kiss, making love, and following it up with an intimate talk, snuggled close in a nest of pillows.

His Blazer was in the driveway when she pulled around the corner and depressed the activator for the automatic garage door. He got out and stood with his hands on his hips, watching her drive past him into the garage. He was dressed in tight tan jeans, white leather tennis shoes and a sporty baby-blue pullover with a V-neck. The first thing he said was "Come here." He had opened her car door and was waiting to haul her into his arms even before she captured her purse from the seat. They stood in the wedge of the open car door, her arms clinging to his neck, her breasts buried against his hard chest, kissing recklessly, murmuring in the wordless, insatiable way of lovers who'd thought this moment would never come.

His tongue was hot and insistent as it roved the contours of her mouth, and hers brought an answering urgency as it tasted and tantalized. His hands spread wide, covering her back with demanding caresses before dropping low to ride her hips, then the curve of her buttocks as their bodies pressed together in anticipation, then swayed from side to side in an age-old message of accord.

Their heads slanted, changing directions as their mouths remained locked, open and impatient. His hand cupped her breast and hers found his naked back, slipping beneath the ribbed waistband of his sweater onto the warm flesh. His thumb rubbed her nipple and she shivered and thrust her tongue more forcefully into his mouth. She ran her hands over the back pockets of his jeans, drawing him as close as possible, holding him as he'd held her a moment ago.

When at last the initial rush of possessiveness had been accommodated, they drew apart, found each other's eyes, then clung again, rapturously.

"My God, did you ever think it could be this way again?" he asked breathlessly.

"Never! I've felt like a teenager all day!"

Again he backed away to look into her radiant eyes. "You, too?"

She smiled and nodded a little sheepishly. Then they were laughing and holding hands as he impatiently hauled her after him toward the back door. He flung it wide and tugged her inside behind him, both of them giddy, giggly, and slightly flushed… and came up short at the sight of Callie Mae, spreading chocolate frosting on a pan of brownies.

The older woman swung around, her eyes flew wide, and she gave a chortle of amusement. "Well, I declare, if it ain't that nasty li'l Tommy Lee Gentry, used to come snitchin' my cookies just before suppertime."

Tommy Lee and Rachel gaped at the maid, then at each other, then burst out laughing again before Tommy Lee lunged across the room to give the woman a bone-crushing hug. "Callie Mae, you crusty old despot-damn, it's good to see you!"

She backed off to adore him with glistening eyes while his hands pressed her thick waist.

"Lord, Lord, but ain't you a sight for these tired old eyes-you and Miss Rachel, come a-laughin' in the way you used to." A tear plumped on her eyelid as she hugged him again, and Rachel looked on with glowing eyes. Suddenly Callie Mae pulled back and her heavy pink lips took on a scolding pout. "Been wonderin' when the two o' you would come to your senses."