"One forty-two, ninety," the check out clerk said.

Jesus, all I was going to pick up was a roll of duct tape and a few groceries. And I still needed to hit the hardware store for the damn duct tape.

I lugged the groceries and tossed them into my SUV, then walked down the street. Spring was threatening to thump right down on Stowe's head. It had been a great season, and there was still plenty of Spring skiing ahead. But the air was balmy for late-March in Vermont, a whopping forty degrees. I could see the desperation in the eyes of my fellow innkeepers walking along in a daze, most without coats. We all thought we'd still be seeing lots more snow before Easter, but true to form, Mother Nature proves once again that the town needs a far better marketing plan to keep business booming year round.

That wasn't my concern, at least not this year. I had John's healing to focus on, tons of construction ahead, numerous meetings and confrontations with Kevin, our irritating project contracting manager, and of course, duct tape to buy.

I'd been distracted so many times by people stopping me to ask about John, that not once but three times I walked right past the hardware store. As I finished chatting with Sheriff Mike, I actually turned in a full circle, wondering where the hell I actually was. That's when I bumped right in to my nemesis, Kevin. Dammit, I didn't even know he was in town.

He was charging out of the courthouse, rolls of blueprints in hands and swearing a blue streak. Was there a chance he didn't notice me? I am not that lucky.

"Queen Biebe," he snorted, using the nick name he developed when I started calling him Kev. Needless to say, be both fucking hate the names but keep on using them.

"Yeah, Kev," I smirked, trying again to get my bearings.

He laughed aloud, and I glared at him. Blinked. Huh. Kev isn't such a bad looking guy when he smiled which was . . . like . . . never. What that man needed was a loving woman and a life. But not till after my inn was built.

"You can't be fucking lost, Riles, you live here."

"I'm not lost, just a little . . . confused."

"Not surprised, lady. All the shit you got on your plate, I'd be fucking confused too."

Was that almost a nice thing he just said to me?

"What are you so flaming pissed off about?" I asked, realizing I was one block from the hardware store. And that those were our blueprints in his hands. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah. You got about thirty minutes to go over this shit with me?"

I thought about the groceries, did my math, they'd hold for a half hour in the car at forty degrees. "Alright. Thirty minutes. And that's all."

"Like you and I can spend more than that together without blood," he said with a growl.

I followed Kev to the coffee shop and we sat. Then, I got up to get myself a cup of coffee. Some gentleman. He never even offered to buy me a simple cup of coffee. No wonder he was single. I was feeling belligerent and actually considered going back to the table with only one cup, but I didn't. Jesus, I even knew how he liked his coffee. I hated that.

"Here," I slammed the cup on the table, nearly sloshing black coffee on him. He was already deep in his notebook. Gave me a grunt, but not a thank you. Really. A simple thank you. Was there any wonder I didn't like Kev?

I rolled my eyes and he slid a document in front of me.

"Are all Vermont dwellers ass-backwards?" He hissed. "Take a look at that."

I did. My heart jumped into my throat. Holy shit! I know the dates were correct on the applications for construction. I know because I put them there. John checked them and rechecked them. The application had been filed at the courthouse months ago. Even the announcement in the local newspaper had the correct dates. But the permit in my hands did not say April 6. The damn thing clearly said August 6. Trying to appear calm, I sipped coffee and set the permit aside.

"So, we can just change it . . . can't we?"

Oh man, I didn't like that look he gave me. Not one bit.

"Hey! You don't think this is my fault, do you?" I snapped.

"You live in Vermont, right?"

I stood. "Are you calling me ass-backward?"

He burst into laughter that made me want to slug him but good.

"Queen Biebe, I'm calling you a woman who's lost her sense of humor. Jesus. Sit down. It's already fixed, ya loon. Here's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Loon? Was I a loon? And had I lost my sense of humor? I shrugged it off, who cared what Kev the carpenter man thought of me anyway.

We talked for a while, reviewing his concerns, mostly regarding the delivery of some rented excavating equipment. Nothing that couldn't be straightened out with a phone call and a few extra dollars. Then I tossed my empty paper cup in the trash and said my goodbyes.

"Nope, not yet. Sit."

I sat. "What now?"

"I want to talk to you a while. That's all."

"Me? Why?"

He leaned across the little table, his voice low, words very precise. "Because I need you on the ball, Queen Biebe. Not a ragged mess who can't roll with the punches. I'm doing what you asked, lady. I'm not bothering John with every tiny detail. Granted, you and me, we get along much better through e-mails, but I am going to be right in your face for the next several months."

Well, he was right about that. "And?"

"And we need to bury the hatchet."

Could I suggest in his head? Probably not. "Okay, what do you suggest?"

He sat back. Looked around then went to the counter. And damned if he didn't come back with two cups of coffee. It must have irked the hell out of him that he knew how I liked mine, just the way it had irritated me.

"Now," he said. "Ask me anything."

"What? I ask you when I need to know something. What are you talking about?"

"Not talking about the construction, Riles. Ask me anything you want to know about me."

"And you'll answer?"

"Yeah, I'll answer."

Oh, my wicked little mind was twitching. But something inside told me not to go there. After all, the cup of coffee in my hand and his insistence that we make peace was a real effort on his part. So I took a deep breath and thought a moment. Of course, the same question came out of my mouth. But instead of asking, what the hell is wrong with you that no woman will have your sorry ass? What I really asked was, "Have you ever been married?"

"Yes."

"A little more, Kev," I sneered. "One word answers don't count, you know."

He sipped coffee. "I was married fourteen years. My wife died a year ago, December."

Gulp. "Oh Jesus, Kevin. How?"

"Leukemia. Can't complain too much. She was in remission for several years. Next question."

"Ah, I'm sorry. Um. Are you originally from New York?"

"Nope." His eyes gleamed. "New Hampshire."

"You shit! Well, I hear that even though Vermont dwellers are ass-backwards, New Hampshire dwellers are back-ass-wards," I giggled.

"You catch on quick. Next."

"Just one more question, Kevin. Why don't you like me?"

"What makes you think I don't like you? You're a smart woman. John told me about how this whole thing was your idea, even showed me your business plan. I like you well enough."

"Then why don't we get along?" This, I really wanted to understand. I am usually really good at figuring people out. At finding a way to respect and get on well with just about everyone I meet.

He sighed, dug his wallet from his back pocket and opened it. Handing me a photo, he simply said. "I miss her, Riley. Miss her something awful."

I took the photo, nearly choked. She looked like me! She was standing beside a grinning Kevin, her head barely reaching his shoulder, her dark hair short. My finger touched her face.

"What was her name?" I said without looking up.

"Allie. Allison." He cleared his throat. "So, I owe you an apology. Every time I look at you, it kinda, you know. Just guess I didn't know how to handle it. So I act like a fucking jackass every time I'm around you." He took the photo from my hand, carefully placed it back in his wallet.

"But now, we need to get down to business, so I figured it was time to get over this and --"

"Kevin, you'll never get over it. You lost Allison. Jesus, if I'd have lost John, I can't even imagine how long it would take me to get over it, if ever." Especially in the world I live in, for heaven's sake. If it hurt Kevin that I look like Allison, imagine my agony when every Brother we have resembles my John.

"You didn't lose John, Queen Biebe." Damn, he was grinning that fucking grin again. "And you two have one hell of a fantastic and expensive project on the near horizon. So, you and me. We going to get along better? I want this to go smoothly, you know. No assault and battery charges, no black eyes."

"It's a deal," I reached out my hand.

He shook then held it for a long moment. "Hey, I got a question."

"What?"

"How come you don't like me?" He asked, his face sincere.

"I do like you." I stood to leave. "Kev," I shot back over my shoulder.

"Yeah, see ya round, Queen Biebe."

***

Duct tape, duct tape, duct tape. I kept repeating it in my head. Then, another distraction.

Ohhh! That familiar shiver of excitement ran through me as I stared into the display window of my favorite antique furniture store. I looked at my watch. The ice cream would be history, but all the other groceries could hold on just a little longer.

Feeling more than a little guilty, I strolled the store, admired room after room of beautiful items and wished like a always do, that Darcy was with me. Hell, she knows more about antiques than the owner of the store. As I ran my hand over the ornate carved frame around an ancient beveled mirror, I heard a familiar voice. Aussie accent, then that soft laugh. I gazed in the mirror, and behind me, reflected beautifully, Monica and Andy.

I stood, mesmerized, watching their reflection. How remarkable new love is. They absolutely glowed with it. Andy was sitting on a damask covered chair and Monna was talking softly with him. His eyes were glued to her, his smile, absolute pleasure. And his hand reached to hers, brushed a tender touch that made me shiver. Then, she leaned down for a sweet kiss.

I have no idea if they were planning to purchase the chair or not. I'm not even sure they realized they were in a public place. It wasn't as if the kiss was passionate or inappropriate, but it was a powerful confirmation of their strong relationship. And I can guarantee you, they had no idea I was watching. So I slipped away and headed for the car, thinking of John, beginning to worry that he'd been alone for so long.

As I drove home, I had to laugh. I'd made a few pretty interesting discoveries in town that afternoon. I discovered that Kevin wasn't the ogre I thought he was, reevaluated my feelings about him and actually found the compassion necessary to build a very positive working relationship with him.

Seeing Andy and his Number One, I discovered that love is highly visible, permeates everything when it's real, even the surrounding air. That I was finally free of my past, and able to see the amazing qualities of the wonderful world I live in.

And I discovered that it was fun to get the hell out of the house. I'd been taking care of John, all the details for the construction, and working with Andy on the kitchen plans non stop for a very long time. I hadn't gone for a visit since John's accident. Hell I hadn't even taken an afternoon to walk around town in so long I couldn't remember the last time I was there. Kev the carpenter man was right. I had reason to be confused, and certainly had a lot on my plate. But taking a little breather cleared a lot of crust out of my head. Oh, there was still a loaded agenda to deal with, but it just didn't look so bad all of a sudden.

And the best part of all? John really didn't need me so much. He was getting around fine. Cane and all. And he was doing great, recovering, and blessedly always happy, even when he hurt like hell.

***

I parked and hauled all the groceries to the porch before walking in. As I reached for the doorknob, my cell phone rang. I love when John calls me. It always reminds me of the first time I ever heard his voice, over the cell phone, right on that property the very day I crossed into this world. God, that voice. If I wasn't already in love with him, I would have tumbled like a boulder.

"Hey, baby," he said.

"Hi, I'm coming in the door right this minute. Sorry I took so long." I grunted; several bags in hand and hipped the door opened. "You need something, John?"

I was about to drop the groceries on the table and head for the bedroom.

"Yeah, but stop right where you are."

"What?"

"Stop right there, Riles."

I did, standing at the table, looking around. I shrugged, figuring he wanted something from the kitchen. Odd, he'd been able to get whatever he wanted for weeks now. Jesus, maybe he fell?

"You alright?" My voice was laced with badly hidden panic.

"I'm wonderful. But I want you to do something for me, baby."

"Anything."

"Anything?"

I looked at the receiver. "Yes, anything, John."

"Alright, baby. Since you put it that way, I want you to go to the guest room."

"Can I hang up now?" I teased as I walked across the living room.

"No."

No? What the hell was he up to? "Okay. I'm in the guest room. What can I do for you?" I looked around. The bed was turned down, the fireplace ablaze, and a huge vase of red roses adorned the bedside table. "Oh, John. These are beautiful!" I fingered the tender petals.

"You like them?"

"I love them."

"Good, now Riles. You did say you'd do anything for me, right?" I could hear the grin in his voice.

I sniffed the flowers, sweeter because they came from John. "Anything."

"I want you to take off your clothes, baby. Take them off real slow, and tell me everything as you do it."

I looked around, closed the curtains, thought. I'd never in my life had phone sex. Well, once I almost did, but it was so strange and the guy was such an ass, that halfway through I was putting my clothes back on. But this was John. I wondered why he wanted it.

"Riles?"

"Um, yeah. Okay." I took a deep breath. "I'm unzipping my coat, can you hear it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Now, I'm unbuttoning my sweater."

"The red one, right?"

"Yep, the one you bought me for Christmas. The first button . . . the second button . . . the pretty pearl buttons feel smooth in my fingers . . . the third button. It's opened. I'm sliding it off my shoulder . . ." Thud. The phone dropped to the floor.

"Oops. Sorry. Did that ruin the mood?"

He chuckled. "Nope. Is the sweater off?"

"Yes." I moved closer to the fire. It may have been forty degrees outside, but the old house was cold. "I'm wearing my pink bra."

"Oh Jesus, and those pink panties?"

"Yes," I smiled. Damn, this was fun. I imagined him sitting on the chair in the bedroom. Leaning back, rubbing his eyes, the phone pressed to his ear.

"Take off the bra, baby. Tell me how you feel, what you're thinking." I heard him sigh.

I set the phone on the mantle and reached back, un-clipped, then slid the bra from my arms.

"John?"

"Yeah, baby."

"Um, I feel strange."

"Why, sweetheart?"

"I wish your eyes were on me," I said softly.

"Baby, my imagination is on you, every inch of you. I can see your breasts; can actually feel the heat from them. What do you feel?"

"I'm trembling, John. My hand is touching the skin around my nipple. Circling. Ahh."

"That's good, Riles. Do you feel the soft flesh? The hard nipple? Can you feel what I feel when I touch you?"

"Yes," I was nearly breathless, the tingles soared through me. I imagined his imagination. "I'm pressing my palm against my whole breast, massaging."

I could hear his breath coming harder, deeper.

"My hand is sliding down to my jeans. I'm unsnapping, unzipping." I walked to the bed, giggled. "Doing a little shimmy here, this is hard to do with one hand."

"Yeah?" He sighed. "Slide your hand down inside for me before you take those jeans off, Riles. Get your fingers way down. What do you feel, baby?"

I stood still, closed my eyes, slid my hand and immediately felt a gush of wetness. "Oh John," I gasped.

"It's okay, baby. I'll tell you what you feel. Are you still standing?"

"Yes," I was panting. It was insane, the power of his voice, his instructions, my desire.

"You feel the soft curls, so soft they tickle and swirl around your fingers. And the wetness. It's coming, soaking your pretty pink panties." John stopped to take a breath. "Now, baby, push those jeans down below your hips. Cup your sweet pussy, let the wet cover your hand. Oh fuck, baby. I can feel that heat. The slippery wet. The way it calls to me."

I was panting harder.

"Sit on the bed, Riles. Can ya get the jeans off without putting the phone down?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good, get them off. But keep your hand in those pink panties. Hold tight to that mound I love. Hold it like I do, Riles."

He was silent, except for the sound of his heavy breath. Waited.

"Now Riles," he said softly. "Lay back on the bed, baby lay back, put your head on the pillow and close your eyes. Put the phone close to your ear and just listen. Listen to my voice."

I slid up the bed, propped the phone on the pillow near my ear, my hand tight in my panties.

"Baby. Concentrate on what you feel, on how it feels to me. Slide your fingers into the wet, spread your legs and bury your fingers there. Let them just lay there, still. Can you feel the gush? More and more moisture. Your fingers are covered with it."

My heart was pounding. How could he know exactly what my body was doing?

"Take your hand out and put it to your mouth, sweetheart. Taste the sweetness I starve for. Know how much you entice me. How much I hunger for you. Taste, babe. Suck your fingers."

Oh Jesus. Is that how I taste? What he craves? It was warm, mellow. I sucked the finger and heard John groan.

"Keep your eyes closed, Riles. Now, put your hand to the crotch of your panties, pull it aside. It's so wet, isn't it? Wet."

The silky fabric was saturated, hot. I moaned and pulled it aside, rose my knees and let them fall opened.

"Touch your hard clit, baby. Real gentle. Soft. Slide around it, over it, along the sides of it. Move slow, feel the charge as you get close to the most sensitive spot."

"Oh Jesus!" I gasped.

"Yeah, baby, like that. Keep doing that. Don't stop and don't speed up. Slow. Let's build this fire real slow, Riles. Stoke it. Watch it grow together."

I was lost in the sensation, the sound of his voice. The voice I love so much. "Oh, John. Please. I need to come," I begged.

"I know, baby. I know. But let's do this together. Make it better than ever. Be patient, take your time." John's voice broke, he gasped. "Slow. Real slow."

It was driving me mad, all I wanted was to explode, to run to the bedroom and hold John in my arms. I could hardly think. All I could do what listen and respond.

"So slow. And there's more and more wet, coming in waves. Now, baby. Place your fingertip right on your clit and press . . . real . . .. easy. What do you feel?"

"Oh Christ, I feel like I'm losing my mind. Everything is trembling!" There were flashes of color behind my eyelids.

"Yes. Yes. Slide that finger. Slide down, down, and slip it in deep. Deep as you can go."

Oh fuck! I didn't want to leave the spot that would shoot me to the stars, but I did as he said. Pressed my finger deep, felt the ripples of my inner flesh. Groaned and gasped.

"Feel that, baby? My tongue feels that when I slide it into you, my fingers feel that, my cock feels that. It's fucking heaven. You are heaven."

I was deep in the sensations of my fingertip. The wonderment of heat and excitement, completely lost in a new place. In John's imagination, his reality of me. So overwhelmed, I nearly didn't notice the phone moved from my ear. But I recognize the difference in his voice. The fact that he was right there, watching me.

"Keep your eyes closed, Riles." His voice drifted to me, loving, gentle. I felt his weight on the edge of the mattress then his hands lowered my knees to the sheets. He tenderly drew my hand, pulling my finger out then tugged off the panties. His hand pressed the tip of my shaking finger against my desperate clit. "Now, baby. Come for me, sweetheart."

His warm palms soothed my trembling thighs as my finger moved, faster and faster. I gasped, pressed harder then exploded, shaken to the core as lightening flashed behind my closed eyes. "Oh Jesus! Oh God, John!"

His hands clasped tight on my knees, pulling them apart and I felt the heat of his mouth as he sucked and drank my come. Lapping and groaning. I felt him cautiously crawl over me, holding back his aching moan, the pain I could feel in my own chest for him. This was new. We had not attempted sex like that since the accident. I worried for his leg, his hip, but could say nothing.

"Ah fuck!" John gasped as his rock solid cock slid into me, touched the edge of my womb in one smooth advance. Blessedly for him, less than six thrust later he was filling me with his searing hot climax. "Jesus fucking Christ!" His straining voice grunted and quickly, he dropped, rolled to his side and chuckled between hard gasps.

I turned to him, trying with all my might not to show my concern. Good God, he was smiling ear to ear, actually began to giggle. He playfully tossed his casted leg over my hip and tugged me tight to him, arms encircled me, joy in his every breath. The short cast was new, very light weight and thankfully not as rough as the old plaster one. I tapped the cast and ran my hand up to his thigh, around to his wonderful ass and gave him a squeeze.

"I love you . . . Oh my God!" I jumped up.

"What?" He sat with a start, grabbed his cane and followed me to the kitchen.

There I stood, naked as a jay bird beside John.

"You think she likes butter pecan?" I asked as we watched Sophie lapping up the constant stream of trickling melted ice cream dripping from the table. Her tongue slapped, speckles of white covering her from paws to ears. And I swear there was a wicked grin on her funny face.

"Yeah," John said. "I think she likes it a lot."

"Now I gotta give her a bath," I laughed.

"Did you get the duct tape for the leak in the tub faucet?"

Ah, shit.