Nighttime Clark. I grinned into the darkness.

“I’m lying the right way,” I said, my voice lifting a little at the end.

“I wasn’t aware there was a right way to lie in bed, Vivian,” he said, his voice deepening, going all warm honey.

“Depends on the bed, I suppose,” I teased.

“Depends on the body, I’d suppose,” he teased right back, and just like that, my skin pebbled. “Tell me all about the right way,” he said, with more of the warm gooey.

Officially? I was lying on my back with my head on the pillow, my legs under the blanket. But unofficially?

“I’m stretched out on my back, arms over my head, my legs barely tucked under the comforter since it’s so hot in here tonight. I’ve got one hand twisted in my hair, and my other hand is holding . . . you.”

I closed my eyes, held my breath, and waited.

Clark. Groaned. Deep.

Holy mackerel.

Two nights later I was on my back again with Clark in my ear, telling me about his favorite spots to kayak on the Big River.

“It’s not too swift there; just enough current that you can relax and go where the river wants you to. The trees on either side, the sound of the water, there’s nothing like it,” he said, slipping into that low and melodic voice that came at night. After hours.

“Well you’re in luck, because I’m bringing my kayak back with me,” I said, taking a swig from the water bottle next to my bed. “Two in fact, if you want to borrow one.”

“I also have my own, but thanks for the offer,” he said. “Maybe we’ll have to take them out sometime, see how they do.”

“Whether they’ll play nice together?” I laughed, rolling over onto my side.

“You must know all about that. With five brothers, I imagine ‘play nice’ is like a mantra.”

“It was the opposite—we played hard and rough most of the time. They never went easy on me just because I was a girl. They knew I’d punch them if I thought that they were.”

“I believe you. Receiving end over here and all,” he teased.

“Never going to let me forget that, are you Clark? Besides, you snuck up on me. You’re lucky no nuts were kicked.”

“I realize you think you’re being funny, but with five brothers, I’m amazed you could even joke about that.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen my share of nuts kicking, accidental or otherwise. And I bet you just curled up over there like a roly-poly, didn’t you?”

“Can we talk about something else, please?”

“Sure, anything you like, Clark. What do you want to talk about? It’s your dime.”

“Why do I feel like this just turned into one of those 900 calls?”

“Do you want me to call you Big Daddy?” I giggled into the phone, in my sexiest kitten voice.

“Vivian,” he warned.

“Just kidding. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Something? There’s plenty you don’t know,” he said with a laugh.

“Okay, so tell me about plenty.”

“Are you serious?”

“Loosen up, librarian, and gimme the good stuff,” I said deadpan, and he chuckled. “So I’ll start it. Favorite cereal?”

“Oatmeal,” he said.

“I love oatmeal! With brown sugar?”

“Molasses. And dried cherries. Occasionally chocolate chips.”

“That sounds amazing.” I sighed. I’d have to try it sometime. “Okay now, favorite movie?”

“Just one?” he asked.

“Deserted island, you can only take one DVD.”

“There’s a DVD player on this deserted island?”

“You’re not playing the right way,” I told him, scissoring my legs so that one was on top and one was under the covers. I was both hot and cold at the same time.

“Well in that case, I guess I’d take . . . wow, that’s really a hard one.”

“We haven’t even gotten to hard yet, Clark,” I teased, and bit down on my knuckle when he muttered something under his breath.

“All right then, let’s move on to hard,” he said.

“Biggest regret?” I asked quickly.

“Don’t have any,” he answered back, just as quickly.

“Oh, come on.”

“No, really. Sure, there are things I wished had gone other ways, but mostly those have been out of my control. I think if you have regrets, they’ll start to eat at you. And who wants to live in the past?”

“Good answer,” I said, then fired another question before he could ask me about my regrets. “Biggest turn-on?”

“A woman who takes what she wants, when she wants it,” he answered back just as quickly, and I quickly pulled my other leg out from under the covers. Not so much cold now. Nighttime Clark was going to be the death of me.

“Biggest goal in life?” I asked, to steer the conversation back to safer ground. Hearing him tell me about working for the Smithsonian or the New York Public Library would be a good way to cap off the night.

But for the first time, he hesitated.

“Clark?” I asked.

“Biggest goal in life, huh?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Yes,” I promised, wondering where this was going.

“I feel like I should say something like climb Mount Rainier. But you want the truth? My real, biggest goal in life?”

“Yes,” I whispered, holding my breath.

“To fall in love with an amazing girl, get married, and fill up a huge house with a whole mess of kids.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“So old-fashioned, I know,” he said with a slight laugh. “Not like the mountain climbing, right?”

I finally found my voice. It was buried, you see, behind this lump that kept showing up lately. “No mountain climbing, Clark. Go with the other,” I whispered. “It sounds pretty great.”

“It does?”

“Oh, yeah,” I answered. “Who wouldn’t want that?”

My hand actually hurt from clutching the phone so tightly.

It was my last night back east. Everyone was at my parents’ house, the table surrounded by my family, immediate and extended. The table was extended too, bursting with enough casserole dishes and serving platters to feed the Franklin army. We laughed, we yelled, we joked, we teased, we ate. It was everything I’d be missing every single Sunday, and somewhere between the scalloped potatoes and the triple-layer strawberry shortcake, my heart was full to bursting.