Grand Passion

sheet to her breast. “How about sexually impoverished ?”
    “Whatever. Cleo, what I'm trying to ask is…”
    “Hold it.” Cleo held up a hand. “I've got a better one. Differently experienced .”
    “Damn it, Cleo…”
    “Wait, wait, I've got an even better one. How about sensually impaired ?”
    “Enough with the political correctness jokes,” Max said. “I'm trying to carry on a serious conversation here.”
    “You started it. Romantically challenged . I love it.” Cleo started to laugh.
    “So how about answering the question?”
    “ Romantically challenged .” Cleo laughed harder.
    “It's not that funny,” Max said grimly.
    “Yes, it is.” Cleo was giggling so much now she could barely speak. “Especially coming from you.”
    Max gave her a quelling look. “Do you mind telling me how you managed to impart such an interesting note of realism to The Mirror ?”
    Cleo doubled over in another fit of giggles. “I relied entirely on my imagination.”
    He stared at her in disbelief. “Imagination?”
    “If you think about it, you'll recall that most of The Mirror is taken up with the feeling of anticipation, not the actual experience.”
    “The hunger,” Max said softly.
    “Exactly. The hunger.” Cleo savored the rich, warm feeling that filled her. More laughter bubbled within her. “Believe me, I understood that part very well.”
    Max's expression was bemused. “I won't argue with that. All the same…”
    “For crying out loud, Max, you don't have to jump out of a plane to guess what it would do to your insides.”
    “You said that just before your parents died there was a man,” Max said carefully.
    “There was. Actually there were two or three. Not at the same time, of course. But I never went to bed with any of them.”
    “Why not?” Max persisted.
    Cleo shrugged. “None of them was Mr. Right, even though I have to say that numbers two and three were really terrific kissers. Then, after my parents died, my therapist said I developed that psychological block or whatever it was I told you about.”
    Max stared at her and slowly shook his head. “It's incredible.”
    “What is?”
    “That you wrote The Mirror using just your imagination.”
    “Talent,” Cleo said without a shred of modesty. “Pure talent.”
    “I've always had a lot of respect for the creative imagination,” Max said.
    “I'm not surprised. You are, after all, a connoisseur of fine art.” Cleo's joy was threatening to explode in another burst of laughter. She didn't know if she would be able to contain it. “Tell me, oh, great expert, how do I compare to the average Van Gogh?”
    Max narrowed his eyes. “More colorful.”
    “ Colorful .” The laughter overcame her again. She thrashed about in the throes of it and managed to tumble over the edge of the bed. She landed softly on the carpet and burst into a fresh peal of giggles. “How about Picasso?”
    “You're a little more unpredictable than Picasso.” Max propped himself on his elbow and looked over the side of the bed. His gaze was enigmatic. “You seem to be in an unusually good mood tonight.”
    Cleo widened her eyes. “Gee, Max, do you really think my mood is unusual under the circumstances?”
    “Let's just say I've never heard of anyone who fell out of bed laughing after having sex.”
    “How many people do you know who waited this long to experience sex?” Cleo countered.
    “You have a point.” Max paused. “Forget what your therapist said. Tell me what you think you were waiting for all these years.”
    “The right man, of course.”
    Max stilled. “The right man?”
    “Uh-huh.” Cleo's giggles faded at last into a smug smile. She folded her hands behind her head and gazed happily at the ceiling. “My therapist said he'd never come along. That I was using the fantasy as an excuse not to get involved.”
    “What did you say?”
    “I said I sure hoped he wandered into my life sooner or later, because I didn't have any choice in the matter. I had to wait for him. All the others felt wrong . She didn't understand that, and I couldn't explain it to her. It was one of the reasons why we parted company. That and the fact that she cost a fortune.”
    “Cleo,” Max asked very softly, “how did you know I was the right man?”
    She looked up at him from the floor and realized that he was deadly serious. She stopped chuckling. “I don't know. The same way you know a fine painting when you see one, I guess. Some sort of inner