Everlasting by Nancy Thayer Page B

pebbles, stones, moss, shells, and a china frog or bird glued to the surface. Mr. Vanderveld hated these things, but his customers considered them works of art and bought them as fast as he could make them.
    Quickly Catherine unpacked the horrid little mushrooms, water creatures, and leprechauns. She tossed the box out the back door into the dumpster. Already the alley reeked. She took up a bundle of long-stemmed roses, laid them on the table, and turned to get the knife to cut and split the stems. Just then Piet tried to pass her, his arms lifted high to protect a sheaf of lilies. They were caught facing each other in the narrow aisle, their hips nearly touching, and although they’d shared this kind of intimate instant many times over the past three years, this time Piet did not ignore it. He stood still, and he looked at Catherine.
    With his arms lifted high, she was aware of the thick tufts of dark hair under his arms and the way the veins and tendons ran around the muscles of his arms like vines around a tree trunk. She felt that he was daring her.
    “I need a knife,” she said. She was surprised at how low her voice was. “No matter how much I clean and arrange this place, Mr. Vanderveld always manages to mess it up and lose everything.”
    Still Piet looked at her, arms high, not moving, but now with a smile beginning on his wide mouth. She could feel the heat of his body.
    “Piet,” she said, caught in his heat, and stopped, confused.
    “Catherine,” a man said, but it was not Piet who spoke. Catherine looked toward the front to see Kit Bemish standing just inside the curtain.
    “Kit!” For a moment Catherine was paralyzed with joy. He was wearing chinos, a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a striped tie, loosened at the collar in concession to the heat. How handsome—how magnificent —he was.
    “Mrs. Vanderveld said I could come on back. I apologize for interrupting your work, but—”
    “No! Oh, don’t worry, it’s fine, it’s all right!” Now the wave of shock had passed, and Catherine could move. She rushed toward Kit, smiling, and threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad to see you! I can’t believe it! Why didn’t you call?”
    He didn’t put his arms around her. His reserve surprised her, and then she realized he would never embrace a woman passionately in front of another man. She dropped her arms, drew away. She heard Piet slam the back door.
    She said quickly, “Let’s go over to Nini’s for coffee. There’s really no room to talk here.”
    At the door she paused long enough to introduce Kit to Mrs. Vanderveld and promised she’d be back in fifteen minutes.
    “Too bad I don’t have a little more time,” Catherine said, smiling smugly as they settled into a booth. “My apartment’s so close. If we had even half an hour—”
    “Two coffees, please. Is that what you’d like, Catherine?”
    Catherine looked at the waitress impatiently. “Yes, fine. Kit. Now! Why didn’t you call? How long can you stay?”
    Kit had seated himself across from her. Now he reached out and took her hands in his.
    “Catherine.” He looked down and cleared his throat. His face was flushed, and Catherine’s heart cartwheeled inside her.
    “Catherine. I came here because I have to tell you something I couldn’t tell you on the phone. Catherine—what happened in Paris … I didn’t mean for it to happen. It shouldn’t have happened. I’m almost engaged to someone else. Haley Hilton. I’ve had, this, um, understanding with her for two or three years now, that we’ll get engaged and married when I’ve finished law school.”
    Catherine pulled her hands away.
    The waitress put two white porcelain mugs on the table between them. Kit waited until she had scribbled the bill, dropped it next to his spoon, and left before speaking again. Then he kept his voice low.
    “I’ve been going crazy the past few days, Catherine. What I had with you in France, what I felt for