Free Bougainvillea by Heather Graham

weeks,” Jen reminded her.
    Kit was silent.
    â€œChemistry. It’s right, or it’s not right. You’re too careful, young lady. You don’t take risks, and you don’t get ahead in life if you don’t take risks.”
    â€œJen! Personal relationships are not about getting ahead in life.”
    â€œSame point,” Jen said with exasperation. “Sometimes, when you want something, you have to dive right in.”
    â€œI’ll keep that in mind.”
    â€œMarry him!”
    â€œHe hasn’t asked me.”
    â€œHe will.”
    â€œWe’ll see.”
    â€œIt’ll be winter soon, Kit. You’re in wretchedly cold Chicago and I’m in wretchedly wet Seattle. I need a great place to go for winter.”
    â€œHmm. I’ve got it. I’ll send you down to Bougainvillea as my scout. Tell them you’re my representative or something. Bask in the sun—”
    â€œWhy don’t you want to go down there?” Jen demanded flatly.
    â€œI do!” she protested.
    But Jen was right. She was procrastinating. Because…
    There was something dark about all that sunlight.
    â€œGotta go,” Jen said. “Keep me posted. And don’t let everything slip through your fingers!”
    â€œI’ll stay under your wisdom and advisement,” Kit assured her.
    She hung up and walked into her office, and over to her drafting table. She glanced down at the strip she had just finished. She was ahead now—way ahead. She’d been able to practically churn out really good little strips at an incredible rate.
    Because she was happy, she thought. And because she actually knew something about a relationship once again.
    She was sitting in her chair staring at the last strip when she became aware of David standing in the doorway in his terry-cloth robe. His dark hair was tousled and he had a bit of five-o’clock shadow. He still appeared every bit as arresting as he ever had, if not more so. She reflected that the longer she was with him, the more exciting he became. Familiarity was not breeding contempt, but making her more aware daily of just what she had. She was tempted to rush up and slip her arms through the V of the robe, feel his flesh, bury her face against it.
    â€œHey,” he said softly.
    â€œHey.”
    He walked into the room and stared down at her strip. “Very good,” he mused.
    She looked up at him. “You would say so no matter what.”
    â€œActually, no, I wouldn’t. Ask Josh. I tell him when I think a design sucks. Wait—let me think. You can’t ask Josh. You don’t know him. Or don’t remember him.”
    â€œI will meet him again, or see him again,” she said.
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œI’m almost ready to go,” she said. She hesitated then. “David, is there a reason I shouldn’t want to go there? Did something terrible happen?”
    He looked away from her, staring at the strip again. “You know something terrible happened,” he said. “Your mother died.”
    â€œNo, of course, but she drowned. That was terribly tragic. But not…dark,” she said at last, unable to think of another word.
    â€œAny death is terrible, and Marina’s rocked everyone there,” he told her.
    Then Kit said, “She wasn’t liked, was she?”
    He looked at her then, and offered her a strange, wry grimace. “There were moments when she could be very cruel, but she was young, you know, when she first met the Delaneys. I think sometimes she was just unsure of herself. She was rash, impetuous—and gorgeous. No, she wasn’t always liked. But she was also adored. Mary thought the world of her. I was in awe of her—Josh, too. Seamus adored her. She was human, Kit. She had her bad points, but she had her very good points, too. You must know that. She meant everything in the world to your father.”
    Kit nodded.
    â€œYou’re afraid to go