off her clothes. She shrugged into a robe and returned to the bathroom to wait for the tub to fill.
Without wanting to, she remembered the first time she’d met Tucker. She’d been maybe ten and Ethan and Josh had brought him home with them from cycling camp. The most exciting thing about his visit was his father’s flying to pick him up in a private jet. She’d found that far more intriguing than Tucker himself.
Eight or so years later, when she’d gone off to college, Ethan had told her to look up his old buddy. She’d made the duty call and was surprised when Tucker was enthused about seeing her again.
He’d given her directions to an industrial complex by the Los Angeles airport. She remembered being surprised by the location. The address was for a building nearly as big as an airplane hangar. The first thing she noticed when she stepped out of her small truck was the sound of music. The pounding rock beat had made the windows rattle.
She’d knocked on the half-open door, but no one had answered. Probably because no one could hear her. She pushed opened the door and stepped inside.
The open area was huge, maybe ten thousand square feet, with soaring ceilings. Big windows allowed the L.A. sunshine to illuminate everything. The floor was concrete, and the music was even louder here. The bass caused her chest to vibrate.
But what caught her attention was the scaffolding in the center of the massive room. Reaching nearly as high as the ceiling, it was a complex framework with platforms and railings. It surrounded a gigantic, twisted piece of metal.
The piece seemed to curl in on itself, yet reached up at the same time. As Nevada studied it, she felt as if the shards had been ripped open by a blast, then hastily put back together, but not in the right order. There was tragedy in the work. A sense of loss.
After a few seconds, she noticed a woman stood near the top of the scaffolding, welding sparks showering her. From this distance, Nevada couldn’t tell much about her, except that she was tall and thin.
“You made it.”
The voice came from her left, a shout to be heard over the music. She turned and saw Tucker. Only this guy wasn’t the tall, skinny teenage boy she remembered. This guy was broad and handsome, with an easy smile and eyes that beamed with pleasure at seeing her. Despite the loud music, the strange building and the unusual artwork, everything disappeared. The world became a pinprick of light, expanding again until there was only Tucker.
Nevada had never believed in love at first sight. Never thought it was possible for one soul to recognize another. Never knew what it was like to have the very breath stolen from her body. She stood rooted, unable to move or speak. She could only stare at the man she knew she would love for the rest of her life.
He said something. She saw his lips move, but couldn’t make out the sound. He laughed, grabbed her arm and pulled her outside.
“Hi,” he said when they were in the relative quiet of the parking lot. “You made it.”
“I did.”
He hugged her, his body warm against hers. She wanted to lean in, to get lost in his strength and heat, but he straightened too quickly and she wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.
“How’s college?”
“Good. I’m settling into my classes.”
“You’re okay in the dorm?” He sounded more like a parent than a friend, but she nodded anyway. “Ethan’s good?” “He’s dealing.”
The humor faded from Tucker’s face. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks.”
Over the summer, her father had unexpectedly died, leaving the whole family shocked and devastated. Although she and her sisters had protested going off to school, their mom had insisted. Ethan had been the only one to put his dreams on hold, to take over the family business.
“It’s complicated,” she said. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
Tucker put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “I want to tell you it will get better, but right now that’s pretty meaningless, huh?”
“I know it won’t hurt so much later, but it’s hard right now.”
He stared into her eyes, making the emptiness kind of fade into the background. He still had his arm around her, another amazing concept. Had he felt it, too? The connection?
For once she wished she had more experience when it came to men. In high school, she’d never much seen the point. There had been the occasional guy, but no real boyfriend.
“Want to get lunch?” he asked.
Her heart gave a little jump. Okay, it wasn’t a date, but it was close. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” He dropped his arm. “Let me go see if Cat wants to take a break.” He shook his head. “She has the classic artistic temperament. I never know when she’s going to go off on me, so don’t be surprised if you hear a lot of screaming.”
He sounded more excited than upset by the prospect.
“Cat?” she asked, remembering the female welder.
But Tucker was already gone, walking quickly into the building.
Nevada walked to the door and watched as he gracefully climbed the scaffolding. When he reached the welder, he touched her on the shoulder. The sparks stopped and the woman removed her protective gear.
Even from all the way across the building, Nevada could tell she was beautiful. Long, dark hair tumbled halfway down her back in cascading waves. A classically beautiful face—wide eyes, high cheekbones and a full mouth. The woman stepped out of a jumpsuit, revealing a cropped T-shirt and shorts, long, perfect legs and a waist small enough to belong on a model.
She and Tucker descended the scaffolding together.
Once again Nevada was unable to move, but it wasn’t Tucker who held her in place—it was her own sense of insignificance. The woman was older than Nevada, and probably a couple of years older than Tucker. Even casually dressed, she had an air of sophistication. Men wrote songs for women like that, went to war for them, loved them.
As the couple approached, Nevada wanted to run. She forced herself to stand there, knowing she would probably trip over her own feet if she tried to get away.
“So, you’re Tucker’s friend,” the woman said, her voice low and sultry, with a slight accent. “I’m delighted to finally meet you. I’m Caterina Stoicasescu.” She held out her long, slender hand. “Nevada Hendrix.”
Nevada shook the strong, scarred hand, doing her best to keep her mouth from hanging open. Her gaze went from the woman to the sculpture and back.
Caterina Stoicasescu? She was famous all the way to Fool’s Gold. Talented, gifted. She’d been discovered when she was little. Maybe before she was a teenager. Her sculptures were supposed to be brilliant beyond words. Nevada knew her work was displayed all over the world, that Caterina was well-known and wealthy.
“You are from a small town, yes?” Caterina asked.
“Fool’s
