Far better than being a perpetual suck- up.

As she took out her phone and checked to see if Lane had texted her, she told herself it was different between the two of them because she didnt need his money, she didnt care about his position, and she wasnt going to be told what to do by anybody.

When she saw there was nothing on her phone, a stabbing sensation hit her chest" and she studiously ignored it as she put her cell away.

It was different between her and Lane"

Crap. Why was she thinking as if they were back together?

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23494.

THIRT Y- ONE.

S amuel T. blew off the line-up of sheep at the base of Easter- lys hill, shooting his Jag around the Mercedeses, Audis, Porsches, and limos, and waving at the parkers who tried to flag him down so hed stop.

Nope. He did not ride in vans with the great unwashed. And hed be damned if hed leave his girl in the hands of some sixteen- year- old ya- hoo who was liable to strip her gears as the little bastard parked her in a marsh at the side of the road.

As he crested the rise, he floated another wave at the solitary attend- ant up top and didnt spare a glance at the people stepping out of the van that had pulled up in front of the house. Heading for the garages, he parked parallel to the mansions eastern flank and killed the engine"

and immediately, he heard the party on the other side of the garden wall, the patter of talk forming a multi-layered sound rather like a sym- phonys preamble to some great, dramatic rise of a solo.

It was a long while before he got out of the car.

I love you, Samuel T. This is who we are, who weve been since we were teenagers.

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Or something to that effect. He couldnt remember the exact words Gin had used on him because when shed been talking at him, hed been too busy trying not to lose his mind.

God, the things hed been through with that woman. All those years of one- upping each other. And she was right, of course. He did date waitresses and hairdressers because they werent like her, and he did compare every female he was around against her" and yes, they all came up wanting.

He hadnt slept for more than an hour, maybe two, that conversation running frontward and backward in his mind over and over again.

In the end, the one thing that stuck out most was tied to the passage of time: Over the years, hed seen Gin in a hundred thousand different moods, but shed only teared up once before. It had been . . . about fifteen years ago, when hed been a junior at U.Va. and shed been a freshman at Sweet Briar. Hed come home for Easter break, mostly because of his parents, only a little because of Gin. Naturally, they had seen each other.

It was a small world. Especially when you wanted to put yourself in the path of someone else in Charlemont, Kentucky.

And strangely, that was what hed had to do. Gin hadnt been out at any of the parties their group went to. Hed had to use a pickup game of basketball with her brothers as an excuse" not that hed spent any time at all on the court that had been behind the garages. Ditching Max and Lane as soon as hed set foot on the property, hed found her out by the pool, in a sweatshirt and shorts. Shed looked like hell" and shed told him she was taking a break from Sweet Briar and moving home for a while. That she didnt like college. That she just wanted to rest for a while.

Not a surprise. Wild child that she was, it had been hard to imagine her faithfully adhering to any schedule independently, whether it was as part of an English major, or as a job. She was far better suited to the pursuit for which she had been bred: lady of a grand house.

Theyd ended up in argument. They always ended up in an argu- ment.

And he had stormed off.

Hed intended to just leave her, but as usual, he hadnt been able to { 274 }.

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pull a clean break: Before hed gone through the gate to get out of the garden, hed glanced back.

Gin had had her head in her hands and she was weeping.

Hed returned to her, but she had run into the house and gone so far as to lock the French doors behind her.

He hadnt seen her for about a year after that. Mostly because even at the ridiculously young age of twenty, hed recognized they were no good together. He hadnt been able to make the separation stick, how- ever. He never was able to do that.

Samuel T. thought about what shed said the day before . . . about those tears of hers.

What if . . . she hadnt been playing him?

For some reason, that terrified him.

And what was just as shocking? He found himself ready to stop the fighting with her. For so long, his pride had demanded responses to what she did, who she did . . . but it wasnt a defeat if the other person put down their sword at the same time you relinquished your own.

The truth? He was kidding himself if he thought there was anyone on the planet for him other than that headstrong, spoiled, pain in the ass.

Shed had his heart in the palm of her hand since the first day hed laid eyes on her.

Getting out of his car, he brushed his hair back and buttoned the front of his pink, pale blue, and yellow plaid sport coat. Then he bent down, took his straw derby hat from the jump seat and arranged the thing in perfect position on his head.

Using the nearest gate into the garden, he walked into the party.

Heres the man!

Samuel T.!

Mint julep for you!

Buddies of his, gentlemen hed known since kindergarten, came up to him, clapping hands, talking about handicapping the race, asking about the parties to come later in the day, the night, Sunday morning.

He responded with throwaways, his eyes searching the crowd.

Will you excuse me? he said.

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He didnt wait for any permissions, but strode across the tented space, bypassing waiters with trays and more people who reached out to him and several women anxious to connect with him.

Finally, he found her, standing alone, staring out over the river.

As he approached, he traced the elegant lines of Gins body, linger- ing on the way her shoulders were left exposed by the silk dress she had on. For some reason, she had a long scarf tied around her throat, the ends waving in the wind created by the tent fans, the ends trailing down to her unbelievable legs.

He hated the way his heart beat so hard in his chest. Despised the fact that he had to subtly wipe his palms next to his jackets double vents. Prayed that his read on her was correct . . .that she had, for once, been speaking from the heart" and that they were ready, finally, to get real about each other.

Gin?

When she didnt turn around, but just stayed fixated on the river, he put his hand on her arm"

She wheeled around so fast that her mint julep splashed all over his jacket, leaving a damp line across his midsection.

Not that he cared.

Jumpy much? he drawled, trying to recover some of his mojo.

Im so sorry. She reached forward with a little monogrammed cocktail napkin. Oh, Ive ruined"

Please. I have a backup in the trunk.

Mostly because he always sweated at the boxes at the track and hed be damned if hed spend the rest of the night in that kind of mess.

So, ready for the big day? she said as he took off his jacket.

He was folding the thing over his arm when it dawned on him that she wasnt meeting his eyes.

Well? she prompted. My brother has a horse in the running.

Maybe two? Sired by that nasty bastard Nebekanzer.

Still no eye contact.

Under his breath, he muttered, I hate jumping out of airplanes.

That got her to look at him. But only for a moment. What?

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As those blue eyes of hers went back out to the river, he cursed.

Listen . . . Gin.

Yes?

She was so still, he thought. And so much smaller than he was.

Funny, he never noticed the height difference when they were going at it" nearly a hundred pounds less and six inches shorter didnt mean a thing when that mouth of hers was going to hell and back.

He took a deep breath. So Ive been thinking about what you said yesterday. And honestly . . . youre right. Youre absolutely right. About everything.

He wasnt sure what he was expecting to get in response" but the slump of her shoulders was not it. She seemed . . . utterly defeated.

Im not any better at this than you are, he said. But I want to . . .

well . . . goddamn it, Gin, I love"

Stop, she blurted. Dont say it. Please . . . not now. Dont"

Good morning, Samuel T. How are you?

The appearance of a third party registered about as much as a house fly passing through would have.

Except then Richard Pford put his arm around Gins waist and kept going with, Have you told him the good news, darling?

For the first time in his life, Samuel T. felt the cold wash of horror.

Which, considering some of the things hed done in the last two dec- ades, was saying something.

And what might that be? he forced himself to drawl. You two opening a lucrative organ- selling business over the Internet?

Pfords beady little eyes grew nasty. You have such an active imag- ination. It helps your clients, Im sure.

With your sense of ethics in business, I wouldnt be casting stones in that glass house, Pford. Samuel T. focused on Gin, his chest turning to stone. So, you have something to tell me, do you?

By way of reply, Pford took her left hand and thrust it forward.

Were going to be married. On Monday, actually.

Samuel T. blinked once. But then smiled. Marvelous news. Truly"

and, Richard, let me be the first to congratulate you. She fucks like a { 277 }.

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wild animal, especially when you do her from behind" but Im sure you already know that. Half the country does.

As Richard began sputtering things, Samuel T. leaned in and kissed Gin on the cheek. You win, he whispered in her ear.

Turning away from the happy couple, he went back to his buddies.

Grabbed two mint juleps from a passing waiter. Drank them as if they were water.

Whats on your face? someone asked him.

Im sorry?

Youre leaking.

He passed a hand over the eye that was itching and frowned as he saw the wetness. I got splashed with a drink over there.

One of his fraternity brothers barked out a laugh. Some female fi- nally throw one in your face? About time!