“We’ve been in touch all year—why would that end?” He didn’t expect anything permanent to develop between them, though; that would be asking too much.

“We can take turns calling each other,” she offered. “Maybe exchanging e-mails.”

“All right,” he agreed.

Summer was silent following that, and he was beginning to recognize quiet moments as a warning. “What’s wrong?”

She glanced at him and smiled softly. “I was thinking it would be nice to see each other every once in a while. I hope I don’t seem pushy.”

Seeing her on a regular basis suited him just fine. They hadn’t even gone their separate ways yet, and James was already starting to feel withdrawal symptoms.

“I could fly up and visit you one month, and you could fly down and visit me the next,” she suggested, again sounding uncertain.

James’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. He suspected that the more often he saw her, the harder it would be to let her go.

“You’re not saying anything.”

“I was thinking.”

“What?”

The complete truth would have embarrassed them both. “I was reviewing my schedule.” The primary wasn’t until September, but Ralph Southworth, a businessman and longtime friend who’d agreed to head James’s campaign, had made it clear long ago: From here on out, James’s life wasn’t his own. Every place he went, every civic event he attended, would be a campaign opportunity.

“And?”

“February might be difficult for me to get away.” His workload had suffered because of this vacation, and another trip, however brief, so soon afterward could cause additional problems.

“That’s okay, I can come to you. In fact, I’ve probably got enough frequent-flyer miles to make the trip free.”

“Great. Then I’ll try to come to Anaheim in March.”

“Wonderful.” She lit up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. Then she hesitated and bit her lower lip. “April might be difficult. Disneyland stays open until midnight during spring break, and we add a second Beauty and the Beast show in the evenings. It’s hard to get a free weekend then.”

“We can work around it.” He didn’t want to mention that from June onward, his schedule would be impossible. There was no hope of visiting California, and even if she was able to come to Seattle, he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to spend any time with her.

“Yes, we can work around any obstacle,” she agreed. But she didn’t sound optimistic.

They were outside the city now, driving on a two-lane highway that led to Red Rock Canyon. “I’ll be very involved in my campaign this summer.” He didn’t feel he could be less than honest.

“Summer’s the busiest time of year for me, too,” she said with an air of defeat. “But we can make this work, James, if we both want it badly enough.”

It frightened him how much he wanted Summer, but he was a realist, so he pointed out the obvious. “Long-distance relationships hardly ever work.”

“How do you know? You’ve had several and you speak from experience?”

James resisted the urge to laugh at her prim tone. If memory served him, his first-grade teacher, Mrs. Bondi, had used precisely that voice. Come to think of it, he’d been in love with her, too.

“You’d be shocked by how few relationships I’ve had,” he confessed.

“Do we have a relationship?” Summer asked softly.

James certainly hoped so. “Yes,” he answered. And then, because she seemed to need convincing, he pulled onto a dirt road, behind a ten-foot rock. A trail of red dust plumed behind them.

“Why are you stopping?” she asked.

James wore a wide grin and held out his arms. “It appears to me you need a little reminder of how involved we are.” James knew he was asking for trouble. Trouble with a capital T. His resistance was about as weak as it could get.

“Oh, James.”

“A few kisses is all, understand? I don’t have much willpower when it comes to you.”

“You don’t?” The words were whispered. “That’s probably the most beautiful thing you’ve said to me.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” James asked as his mouth swooped down on hers. He kissed her the way he’d been wanting to all morning. No, from the moment he’d watched her approach him in the gazebo.

He kissed her again and again, unable to get his fill. He demanded and she gave. Then she demanded and he gave. He moaned and she sighed. Then and there, James decided he’d do whatever he had to—move heaven and earth, take a red-eye flight—to be with her. He doubted once a month would be enough.

He plowed his hands into her hair and sifted the long strands through his fingers. With their mouths still joined, he lowered one hand to her throat. Her pulse beat savagely against his fingertips.

James had never thought of himself as a weak man. But with Summer he felt as hot and out of control as a seventeen-year-old in his dad’s car.

Reluctantly he dragged his mouth from hers and trailed moist kisses along the side of her neck.

“James.”

“Hmm?” He brought his mouth back to hers, kissing her slow and easy. Talking was the last thing on his mind.

She pulled slightly away. “James.”

“Yes?” he asked, distracted.

“We seem—” she whispered breathlessly.

His lips returned to her face, lighting on her forehead, her nose, her chin.

“—to have company.”

James went still. When he’d left the road, he’d made sure they were out of sight of other drivers. “Company?” he repeated. He could already imagine the headlines. King County Superior Court Judge Caught in Compromising Position in Las Vegas.

“They look hungry.”

James’s gaze followed Summer’s. Burros, five of them, stood outside the car, studying them intently. They were waiting for a handout.

James grinned. At least the burros didn’t carry a camera.

Summer smiled, too.

“I brought along a loaf of bread,” he said, and reached into the seat behind him.

“Should we get out of the car?” she asked.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He’d read about the burros, but wasn’t sure how tame they were. “Perhaps we should lower the window a bit and feed them that way.”

Summer opened her window a couple of inches, far enough to ease a slice of bread out to the eager mouths. Just how eager was something they were to quickly learn.

“Oh!” Summer backed away from the window as a large tongue poked through the small opening.

Soon they were both laughing and handing out the bread as fast as they could. James was going to be sorry when it ran out. Summer certainly seemed to be enjoying herself, and so was he.

When the loaf was finished, they raised the windows. It took the burros a while to realize their food supply had come to an end.

When the burros finally left, James started the engine and pulled back onto the road. They drove for another hour, stopped and toured a visitors’ center, taking in the beauty of the countryside.

James felt Summer staring at him as he drove back to the city.

“Now what?” he asked.

“I can’t get over the change in you.”

“You mean the clothes?”

“Yes. You look like a Jim instead of a James.”

James grinned. “There’s a difference?”

“Oh, yes, a big one.”

“Which do you prefer?” he asked, studying her from the corner of his eye.

His question made her hesitate. “I’m not sure. I like the way Jim dresses, but I like the way James kisses.”

“What about how Jim kisses?” The conversation was getting ridiculous.

“Too impatient, I think.”

“Really?” He couldn’t help feeling a bit miffed. “What’s so wonderful about James?”

“His restraint. When James kisses me, it’s as if he’s holding back part of himself. I have the feeling he’s afraid to let go, and it drives me crazy. I want to discover what he’s hiding from me. I know this probably sounds a little crazy, but I find James intriguing.”

“And Jim?”

She giggled. “Don’t tell him, but he’s sexy as hell.”

“Really?” James was beginning to feel downright cocky.

“He’s got that devil-may-care attitude. I have a strong feeling we should be grateful to those burros, because there’s no telling what could’ve happened between us in the canyon.”

She was right about that.

“It’s those shoes you made me buy,” James told her. “The minute I put them on, I had this incredible urge to look for a basketball court and do slam dunks.” James loved the sound of Summer’s laugher. He’d never been one to tease and joke, but he reveled in her appreciation of his wit.

It was midafternoon when they arrived back at the hotel. After showing the security guard their keys, they stepped into the elevator.

“How about dinner?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual when in reality he felt anything but.

“Sure. What time?”

“Six,” he said. Three hours, and he’d be more than ready to see her again. He wanted to suggest they do something until then, but didn’t feel he should monopolize her time, although he’d pretty much succeeded in doing that anyway.

“Six o’clock. In the lobby?”

“The lobby,” he agreed.

The elevator stopped at her floor, and Summer stared down at her room key. “I’ll see you at six.”

“Six.” They sounded like a couple of parrots.

“Thanks for taking me this morning,” she said, easing toward the door. “And for coming to the mall.”

“Thank you.” He bounced an imaginary basketball and pretended to make a hoop shot.

She smiled, and acting on pure instinct, James lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was gentle, and when they broke apart, it was all James could do not to follow her to her room.

Summer sat on the end of her bed, trembling. She closed her eyes and tried to relive those last seconds with James and couldn’t. Being in his arms was the only possible way to recapture the sensation she experienced each time she was with him.

Julie, her roommate, had known long before Summer had realized it herself. When James had asked her how often she dated, she’d invented an excuse to explain why her social life was nonexistent of late.

But it was really because of his letters.

Hearing from James had become an important part of her life. On the first day of every month she rushed to the mailbox, knowing there’d be a letter from him, each longer than the one before. She’d fallen in love with the man who’d written her those beautiful letters.

Unfortunately she hadn’t realized it until she’d seen James. She was worried that she alone experienced all this feeling, all this awareness. But after he’d kissed her, she knew that couldn’t be true. He felt it, too.