Kiss River by Diane Chamberlain Page A

name it, he has it. It used to be all he ever did. Drove me nuts.” Lacey shuddered at the memory.
    “He’s still consumed with photography,” Clay said.
    “Yeah, but now he just takes pictures of his kids,” Lacey said. “At least that’s normal.”
    “His kids?” Gina asked. “You mean, you two?”
    “No. He’s remarried.” Lacey hopped up again and reached for her purse where it sat on the counter by the door. Clay knew she was going after her wallet and the pictures of Jack and Maggie. She held them out for Gina to see. “He started over again. This is Jack. He’s ten. And that’s Maggie. She’s eight.”
    “What beautiful children.” Gina seemed genuinely interested. It was, Clay knew, a womanly skill. She looked up at him. “They both look like you, Clay.”
    Clay and Lacey laughed. “They both look like Olivia, our stepmom, actually,” Lacey said. “Jack isn’t even my dad’s son.”
    And Lacey was not even her dad’s daughter, Clay thought. Lacey didn’t share that little detail with people quickly or easily, though, and he thought he knew the reason why: it made their mother look bad.
    “Jack’s from Olivia’s first marriage,” Lacey continued. “But my dad adopted him.”
    “Ah,” Gina said, touching the pictures with the tip of her finger. “Do you see them much?”
    “We do things with them all the time,” Lacey said. “They’re the cutest kids.”
    Clay felt antsy. The last thing he wanted was to get into a conversation about marriage and relationships. He stood up, and Sasha immediately ran to the door.
    “Taking Sasha for a walk,” he said. “Then I’m going to work on the cistern. Gina, holler if you need anything.”

CHAPTER 6
    A lec O’Neill pulled the bedroom shades against the midday view of the sound and lit the five jasmine-scented candles Olivia had set on the dresser. From the corners of the room, Bocelli sang in wistful Italian, and Alec was pleased he’d finally had the speakers repaired. He and Olivia had sold their separate homes and moved into the house on the sound when they were married nine years earlier, and the bedroom speakers had never worked. Clay fixed them just last month after Alec had mentioned their useless existence, and now he knew what he and Olivia had been missing. If they’d had Bocelli singing in their bedroom all these years, who knows how often they would have gotten around to making love?
    He could feel Olivia’s presence behind him as he lit the last of the candles in the stained-glass holders Lacey had given them years ago. Olivia was already in their bed, already naked, having nearly torn her clothes off as she walked from the living room to the bedroom. She’d made him laugh, as she often did. An impatient lover. He could barely remember a time she’d held off long enough to actually let him be the one to undress her. Hereagerness this afternoon only made him take his time with the candle, pretending he could not get it lit, because he liked teasing her.
    “Alec, don’t worry about the candle,” she said from the bed.
    “Got it,” he said, blowing out the match.
    It had been, what? Two weeks? Maybe longer. When you had kids, it was sometimes impossible to carve out time together. That’s why he had rushed home after his morning appointments at the animal hospital and why Olivia had swapped her day off with one of the other docs at the E.R. Jack and Maggie were at day camp, and now he and Olivia had a couple of hours free for lovemaking.
    He walked toward her, pulling off his T-shirt. Olivia’s arms were folded beneath her head and her eyes were on his, a small smile on her lips. She was the sort of woman who became more beautiful with the years. He liked the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. Her hair was still the same soft brown it had been when he first met her, although now the color came from a bottle. He would have been equally as happy if she’d let it go gray, but at nearly fifty and with two young