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Since then, they’d gone out twice a week, and it had been quite pleasant. There were no fireworks, but it had been nice. The sex was good, nothing outrageous, but sweet. Dave was always respectful of her, always courteous.
    “So where are the bad boys when you need them?” Kim mumbled as she took a flute of champagne off a tray and went outside.
    She knew Tristan’s house and grounds as well as her own, so she headed toward the path that led to Mrs. Wingate’s house. To her left was the old playhouse. She’d spent a lot of time there when she was a child. Her mother and Tris’s were good friends, and when they got together, Kim would go to the playhouse. It was in bad shape now but Jecca had plans to restore it.
    Kim sat down on a bench at the head of the path. The moon was bright, the lights from the big tent twinkled, and the air was moist and warm. She closed her eyes and let it all seep into her. Was there a way to make jewelry that looked and felt like moonlight on your skin? she wondered.
    “Do you still teach people how to have fun?” asked a man’s voice.
    Abruptly, she opened her eyes. A tall man was standing in front of her, looming over her. She couldn’t see his face, as the moon formed a circle behind his head. His question was so suggestive, so provocative, that she couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable. There was no one else around them, just this stranger and his creepy question.
    “I think I should go,” she said as she got up and headed toward the tent with its light and people.
    “How long did the house I built for your doll last?”
    Kim halted, then slowly turned back to him.
    He was taller now, and from what she could see of his face in the low light, he was no longer choirboy-pretty as he had been when he was twelve. There were lines at his eyes and, as Sara’d said, his nose looked as though it had been hit a few times. But he was very handsome, with dark eyes as intense as the night around them.
    “Travis,” she whispered.
    “I told you I’d come back and I have.”
    His voice was deep and strong, and she liked the sound of it. As she took a couple of steps toward him, she felt as though she were looking at a ghost.
    “I thought maybe you wouldn’t remember me,” he said softly. “You were so very young then.”
    She was reluctant to tell him the truth, of the depth of her despair after he left. She’d cried herself to sleep many nights. The photo of the two of them was still her most prized possession, the thing she’d grab if the building caught on fire.
    No, she thought. It was better to keep it light. “Of course I remember you,” she said. “You were a great friend to me. I thought I was going to lose my mind from boredom, but you came along and saved me.”
    “Saved you by being someone who knew nothing. You were a good teacher.”
    “You on that bike!” she said. “I’ve never seen anyone learn as fast as you did.”
    Travis had an image of the things he’d done on a bicycle since then, of leaps and jumps, and turns in the air. He wondered if Kim had any idea how good she looked. The moonlight on her hair, still with a hint of red in it, and the color of that dress in the silvery light—it made a beautiful picture. Had she been any other female in the world, he would be making a pass at her right now. It had never mattered to him if the woman was the wife of a diplomat or a barmaid, if Travis was attracted to her, he let her know.
    But Kim had lived all her life in a small town where everyone knew her. She wasn’t the type of woman he could make a move on five minutes after seeing her.
    Kim felt the awkward silence between them and thought that he hadn’t changed. When he was twelve, he hadn’t said much, just watched and listened and learned.
    “Would you like to go back to the wedding?” she asked. She was still holding her champagne flute. “Get something to drink?”
    “I . . .” Travis began, then seemed to hear himself say, “I need help.” He