LITMIR.BIZ

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groaned. “You know what I mean.”

      “Hey, my romantic life was public knowledge.”

      It had been, she thought. “That kind of comes with being semifamous and then dating a beautiful figure skater,” she said gently.

      “Semifamous.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Way to go for the kill shot.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You know what I mean. You were known, but not a tabloid regular. Plus, you’re not interested in fame.”

      “You sure about that?”

      She studied him for a second, then nodded. “Absolutely.”

      He picked up his wine. “You’re right. I never liked that part of dating Hyacinth. There were choices made to put us more in the public eye. I didn’t love those, either.” He shrugged. “Relationships are all about compromise.”

      There was something in his tone. “You say that like it’s not a good thing.”

      “Oh, it can be. Until one person needs the other to go too far.”

      Interesting, she thought. Not that she had a clue what it meant. She’d heard that Del and Hyacinth had broken up, then gotten back together for a short period of time before ending things a year or so back. What she didn’t know was why.

      There had been speculation that one or the other had cheated. She would put her money on Del staying faithful. Despite his traveling lifestyle, he was a traditionalist at heart. A one-man, one-woman kind of guy. She couldn’t say for sure how she knew that, but believed it down to her bones.

      “What about you?” he asked. “You had the luxury of a private life. Who do you want to trash over dinner?”

      “No one,” she said with a smile. “There were relationships and they didn’t work out.”

      “Or there’d be a Mr. Farlow?”

      “Exactly.”

      She’d dated, but had never gotten serious with anyone. Not since Del. She’d figured out the reason. She’d learned early that she couldn’t trust anyone to rescue her. She was going to have to take care of herself. While that wasn’t inherently a bad thing, it had kept her at an emotional distance from the men in her life. The ones who had wanted more had been frustrated by her reluctance to risk getting more involved.

      Unfortunately, knowing the problem didn’t seem to make it easier to solve. As long as she wasn’t willing to take the chance, she would never have that elusive happily ever after ending. A part of her genuinely didn’t think she had it in her to love anyone, so why try? But without trying, she would never get there. An emotional paradox.

      “So what festival are you looking forward to the most, now that you’re back?” Del asked.

      “A tidy change of subject? Is this to ensure I don’t pry into your reasons for not being married?”

      “Something like that.”

      She laughed. “An honest man.”

      “I try.”

      She thought for a second. “I think the Book Fair is my favorite.”

      “An unexpected choice. I would have thought something at the holidays.”

      “No. The Book Fair.”

      Because that summer they’d spent together, Del had first told her he loved her during the Book Fair. They’d made love in her bedroom. She’d been a virgin and he couldn’t have been more considerate and careful. Not to mention quiet, what with everyone else in her family sleeping on the same floor.

      They’d been so young, she thought wistfully. So confident in their feelings for each other. So sure of their future. Even though she knew exactly what had happened and why, she couldn’t help wishing it had been different. That she had been different.

      Not that she regretted going to college. That had been the right choice, and Del had obviously needed to leave Fool’s Gold. She’d unexpectedly provided the catalyst. But if she could take back the words, she would.

      “I like the Tulip Festival best,” he said.

      She stared at him. “Seriously?”

      “Sure. They’re pretty. It’s a sign of spring coming. The changing of the season.”

      “Tulips?”

      “What? You’re saying a real man doesn’t like flowers?”

      “I’m saying you surprise me.”

      “That’s me. A constant mystery. Chicks dig mystery guys.”

      “If only you had a cool scar.”

      “I know. I kept hoping for some scar-inducing injury, but it never happened. I’m just that good.”

      She laughed, and the opportunity to discuss the past and maybe apologize was over. But she could get there, she told herself. This new version of Del might not need to hear the words, but they needed to be said.

      * * *

      “ACTION!”

      Del looked at the camera, knowing that while he might be uncomfortable staring directly at the lens, looking somewhere else didn’t translate well. His job was to engage with the viewer and that meant making eye contact.

      “In Fool’s Gold, you can taste wine,” he said, then raised a glass of local merlot. Despite the fact that it was only a few minutes after sunrise, he pretended to take a sip. When this was done, he was so getting more coffee.

      Day one of shooting had started at an ungodly hour and would go until sunset. They were starting with the tourist videos—showing all sides of the town. He and Maya had an aggressive filming schedule that would take them over much of Fool’s Gold. This morning they were focused on the wineries, followed by a couple of shots in town. The afternoon, with the harshest light of the day, would be spent by the wind turbines outside of town. If the sunset was cooperative, they would end with a view of the sun setting behind the town.

      “Again,” Maya said. “Wait a second.”

      She moved from behind the camera and got one of the equipment boxes, then dragged it toward him. When he started to move to help, she held up a hand.

      “Stay where you are. You’re framed perfectly. I don’t want to have to start over.” She pushed the trunk in front of him, then stared at him. “Okay, put your left foot on the trunk, like you’re doing a lunge. I want you leaning forward. The wine goes in your right hand.”

      He did as she asked. “This feels awkward.”

      “No one cares,” she said as she returned to her spot behind the tripod. “It looks great. Really great. The camera loves you. Love it back.”

      She turned and adjusted one of the lights, then stepped back to the camera. “Okay, leaning forward. You love the wine. You’re going to have sex with Scarlett Johansson later.”

      He shook his head. “I’m not a big fan of Scarlett.”

      Maya glared at him. “Del, it’s early days yet, but I can be forced into killing you. Just so we’re clear.”

      “You’re crabby.”

      “Yes. It would help to remember that. Wine and sex and action.”

      She picked up the clapperboard, changed take one to take two, then positioned it in front of the camera and snapped it shut.

      “Sound speeding,” she said. “And we have action.” She pointed at him.

      Del hesitated a second, feeling ridiculous, then obligingly thought about wine followed by sex. Only instead of the very pretty Ms. Johansson, he remembered what it had been like to kiss Maya.

      Her mouth had been soft. The kind of soft that

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