Talk of the Town (23 page)

"You did, huh?" He kissed her. "And what made you so sure?"

"Gary," she said, as if preparing to speak to a two-year-old. "I've been to the Cannery."

It was a second or two before the dawning comprehension cleared the darkness of confusion from his eyes. Then he looked sheepish.

"Were you mad? I know I should have told you about it, but ..."

"But what?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd appreciate my interference."

"You were right, I wouldn't have."

"But you don't mind it now?" he asked, noting her lack of temper.

"I didn't say that, did I? What you did was . . . was sneaky and deceitful and wrong. You ganged up with Harley against me to make a point. You took it upon yourself to teach me a lesson about being true to myself. You thought you needed to show me that what I made from love was far more unique and beautiful and vital than what I made for money. You were arrogant and presumptuous to interfere."

"I know," he said, looking as guilty as Harley ever had, caught fair and square. "And I'm—"

"What I said was," she broke in to continue, "I wasn't sure you'd listen to my apology, because what I did was horrible. But the whole time I was looking for you, I knew that you'd forgive me, eventually, because I knew you loved me." He tried to say something, but she stopped him with her fingers to his lips. "What you did was probably wrong but it was also pretty wonderful. You believed in me. You believed in what I do when I act from my heart. You did something no one has ever done for me before. What you did, I couldn't do for myself."

"So . . . you're not mad."

She shook her head and watched as his whole physique transformed before her eyes. From guilty and repentant to sure and cocky. Her sigh was both happy and reconciled.

"And you're beginning to see that what I told you about being a very bright man wasn't a lot of hot air? Have we ever talked about my insight and wisdom?"

"Not today, we haven't. But then, you haven't told me you love me today either."

"I haven't?" He looked seriously worried. "Yes I did. Not two minutes ago. You said you knew it."

"You mumbled something, and, luckily, I knew what you meant. But I could hardly hear it," she said, stepping closer than close. “Besides," she glanced down at her fingers as they fiddled with the collar of his overalls, then looked back, "I want to hear it again."

“You will. Again and again and again," he promised, removing his gloves to push the wet hair from her face, to hold it gently between his palms. "I love you, Rose."

He lowered his lips to hers, as tender and engaging as his love for her.

Looking on, Felix and Germaine clapped and whistled their approval. Harry honked the horn. They were glad everything had turned out well … and they'd be happier still when the trash was finally cleaned up and they could be on their way. The boss wasn't a bad guy, but having him around always threw their timing off.

The King and Queen of Trash heard nothing but the pleasured moans from each other's throats. Not the rain, nor the lightning and thunder. He deepened the kiss, and she pressed herself close to his heart. Their passion flowed freely; they were supercharged with excitement and desire. They were like two lightning rods standing in the rain, with garbage floating in a puddle of water at their feet and electricity cutting the air above them.

They never knew what hit them.

Even thirty years later.

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