Just like Sam.

She shook the thought out of her head. What was the point of thinking about him? He hadn't claimed undying love for her that Sunday morning in his bedroom, like Carrie and Rose's men had. Not that she would have believed him anyway. Two people couldn't fall in love over the weekend.

Okay, so Carrie and Rose had. But they were the exceptions. She turned her thoughts to Carrie, who was spending more and more time in Napa. She had secured her first commercial landscaping job at the winery next to Tyson's, and Vanessa knew that the strength of her work would quickly lead to more jobs. Vanessa could see the future without her best friends around the corner to meet for drinks on a whim, and it was lonely.

Could she hear herself? Nice pity party she was throwing.

She'd have to add that to her list of events to throw for clients. Besides, who was she kidding? She was never lonely. She'd always had a knack for meeting people, for making new friends.

Pissed off at what a sappy loser she was being, she flipped open the Calendar section in the Chronicle. She was going to take advantage of all the wonderful things San Francisco had to offer.

She'd go see a play or a lecture. Maybe there was a volleyball tournament at the marina, where she could put on some short-shorts and force herself to pick up a hottie.

But that was the problem. She could make new friends. She just didn't want to. Her real friends, Carrie and Rose, were important to her. It would be stupid to try and replace them with two strangers just to have someone to drink Cosmos with on Friday nights. Real relationships, not superficial ones, were important. Which brought her back to Sam. He was real. The most honest, passionate man she'd ever met. And that was when Sam's smile hit her hard in the solar . plexus, from the pages of the newspaper. The words below his photo assaulted her: "Sam Marshall's passion for his muse is breathtaking. His love for her is visible in every brushstroke, the kind of love we all wish we had'

HE'D BEEN SO SURE, so certain he'd been doing the right thing letting her go. His work had never been so fluid, so confident, and in the past thirty days, everything he'd painted had sold and been out the door before the paint had dried. But he hadn't wanted to part with his paintings of her-they were all he had left-so he'd doubled his prices. Then tripled them.

He'd made so much money that he could have bought a small castle.

But none of it mattered without Vanessa.

He'd asked the gallery owner to send her an invite. But there'd been no RSVP. He'd tried to tell himself she'd be there tonight, but he'd known it hadn't been true.

She'd meant what she'd said that night, up on the hill overlooking the valley. She didn't do relationships. She was happy with her life exactly as it was. Without him.

He parked his van in front of the gallery, knowing Vanessa's office was half a block down. He could set up camp there, refuse to leave until she agreed to see him. To talk to him. To love him.

Joe, the owner, came out to greet him, and Sam sucked it up and pulled himself together. He'd taken a risk, and it hadn't paid off. He had to face up to a future without her. Starting with tonight.

SHE WASN'T ABLE TO MAKE IT through the rest of the article. Her eyes were too wet to see clearly. Had she been a fool? Had she walked out on the best thing she'd ever had?

No, she tried to tell herself, he was like every other man. Out to get in her pants. Or, in his case, out to make money off the inspiration she'd provided.

Pain tore at her. Because she knew that she was utterly and completely full of it.

Sam hadn't used her. She'd used him. For a weekend fling. For an ego boost and hot sex and the power she'd had over him.

She had to see him. Even if he didn't want her anymore, even if she was nothing but a distant memory, she had to tell him the truth. She had to tell him that she loved him. Even though she was afraid to love. She wanted him to know that he was worth it. That she was willing to try to make the impossible work, if he had any feelings left for her at all.

She didn't remember to check her hair or her makeup as she pushed out of her chair and headed out to the street. The phone rang, but she didn't hear it. She was already halfway down the street when she realized she'd left her office unlocked. Momentarily undecided, she finally spun back and put the alarm on. Moving twice as fast for the delay, moments later she was knocking on the gallery door, peering in through the windows, trying to find Sam.

Joe answered the door. "Vanessa, it's been too long'

She didn't have time for pleasantries. "Is he here?" "Sam?"

She nodded, unable to speak.

"He was, but he went out to grab a bite, I think' "Oh:'

"You want to wait for him to come back?"

"No' she said, but she wasn't sure, didn't care, if he heard her, because she was already walking away from the gallery, pushing past people to get back to her office, to hide there, to try and recover everything she'd lost. It was a sign. If he'd been there waiting for her, everything would have worked out. But he hadn't been. He didn't love her.

"I should have told you I loved you'

Sam was there, right in front of her on the sidewalk. Tall and hard with those dirty, paint-spattered jeans she loved so much.

Her heart nearly pounded out of her chest at the surprise of seeing him again. Mostly, though, she felt joy. So much she was bursting with it.

He loved her.

"Saturday night, I already loved you. But Sunday morning, I let you go. I didn't tell you'

He loved her.

She didn't realize that she hadn't responded until he came a step closer, slowly, as if she were a wild animal that could flee at any moment.

"I love you, Vanessa' He loved her.

The words fell from her mouth before she had time to think about them, to shape them into something better. Something witty or sexy. "You were right, Sam. You were right not to say it:' She pressed into him as he said, "I haven't been sleeping much. Nothings been right since you left, and I might be hallucinating and imagining what you just said. That I was right. I think I need to hear it again to let it sink in:' They were standing in the middle of the busy sidewalk, and people were having to travel around them, but it didn't occur to Vanessa to get out of the way, travel the final two feet to her office door.

This was one of the things she loved about Sam. Even when they were having the most poignant moment of their relationship, he was pushing her buttons, teasing her in the way that only he could. "You were righ;' she said, and his eyes gleamed with something that looked like satisfaction. She wanted to kiss it out of him, to show him who was really the?boss. But she couldn't. Not yet. Not until she came clean. "If you had said, 'I love you I wouldn't have heard you, Sam. I couldn't have." Her voice faltered, and she didn't bother to hide it. She didn't need to hide when she was with him. "I lied to you. About my past." If she'd expected something in his eyes to change-and she had-she'd been mistaken. The only thing she saw in them was love.