Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(48)

She got out of her car, looked over its roof and spied his big truck down the block. She waved and then she wiggled her finger at him, inviting him to come to her house, to park in the place he probably assumed her boyfriend usually parked.

All that mattered was that he parked and walked toward her. Time stood still while she took in the sight of him. It was dusk, but he seemed to walk in a beam of light.

Oh, God, she thought. I'm already in love. In love and so done for.

Every night for three long nights, Lilly slept in Clay's arms, whatever little sleep they actually got. Before sleep, he'd work her out in a way she had never experienced before, then hold her trembling, satisfied body close until she calmed, until she dozed. Invariably, she would reach for him, her hands begging him for more. With a groan of helplessness, he'd make love to her again and again. And again.

When his hands were on her, when he was inside her, she went to a place she could never remember being before. The man had a way with her body that defied reality. And from the sounds he made and the sheen of perspiration that covered him, she was not disappointing him.

She fought his hair during sex; he bound or braided it to keep it under control and she pulled it free, letting it flow. When he was above her, it fell like a curtain around her; when he was on his back, she found herself lying on it as if it were a soft mat, sometimes tugging it. It was a constant battle, but she wanted that thick black hair that marked his ancestry all around her, beneath her, over her, beside her. She caressed it as if it were a pet.

While he held her close on that third night he whispered, "I haven't wanted to ask..."

"You'd better. I can't read your mind."

He paused a moment to form his words. "Is your... Is what's-his-name still under the weather?"

Lilly chuckled. "I've spoken to him a couple of times. He's getting better. He'll be fine."

"I want to know about him," Clay said. "I want to know how you met him, what you like about him, if you're going to tell him that you've been having days of endless, mind-bending sex with me?"

"I wasn't planning to tell anyone," she said. "That would be indiscreet."

"I tried not to ask about him," Clay said. "I lasted as long as I could. Tell me some things. Like--is he Native? Did your grandfather pick him out for you?"

She burst out laughing. "No!" she said. "He might be German--I can't remember. Listen, I gave you the wrong idea. He's not a boyfriend, not technically. He's my best friend. His name is Dane, he owns a coffee shop near my yoga studio. I've known him for a few years, since he opened the place. We go to movies, sometimes we hike, we have long talks, political arguments, discuss books we like. When there's live music around here, we try to go. He has a sister, niece and nephew I love. I can talk to him about anything. We have the same kind of education and--"

"What kind of education?" Clay asked.

"We enjoy the arts. Music, literature, theater, art. My degree is in classical studies."

"But you're the accountant for your grandfather's store!"

"Well, not exactly," she said. "I'm the bookkeeper. My grandfather taught me and I've been doing it for a long time, since before college. I didn't exactly need to study it in college. I already knew what I needed to know."

"Do you love him?" Clay asked.

"My grandfather?" she asked, confused.

"The boyfriend," Clay said impatiently.

"I do, as my closest friend," she said with a smile. She brushed his hair back from his brow. "I adore and admire him--he's such a good person. But please don't think of it as... I know I called him my boyfriend, but we're not a couple. We've never been and never will be lovers. He's g*y."

"Gay?" Clay asked.

"Totally. I tried to get him to switch--we're so compatible and neither of us was attached. But switching--not an option."

"Good. I can deal with you loving the guy as a friend. You having another man in your bed is what I can't deal with."

"Believe me, that's something you don't have to worry about," she assured him.

"I should meet him," Clay said. He turned toward her, pushing her dark hair over her ear. "Even though you're not lovers, I invaded his territory. I should meet him and talk with him. I could let him hit me or something."

A burst of laughter shot out of her. She gave him a slug in the arm. "Could you be any more old-fashioned?" Then she planted a kiss on his beautiful mouth. "Besides, I would never put you in that position."

"Go ahead," he said. "Put me in that position. You've had me in every other position imaginable." He smiled lazily. "I'm not complaining, just making a statement."

A few days later, Lilly went to the Loving Cup for lunch after her yoga class. She jumped up on her favorite stool at the counter, leaned elbows on the bar and rested her chin on her clasped hands. Dane was standing in front of her in a matter of moments. He'd been away from work with his cold or flu, and although they'd talked, she hadn't seen him in almost a week.

"Greetings, little sister. The usual?" he asked.

She nodded and he went for the green tea.

"I'm sorry I stood you up Friday night," he said. "I didn't think the scourge would ever pass, but I guess it wasn't as bad as it could've been, given what I've heard about the swine flu. Darlene said whatever I had was definitely the whine flu. Frankly I--" He stopped suddenly, looked at Lilly closely. He took in her sparkling blue eyes, her flushed cheeks, her secret smile. Yoga wasn't singularly responsible for this new look of health and happiness. "Whoa," he said. "Someone is back in the saddle."