Natasha finished eating her breakfast before slipping Nate out of the remainder of his dirty clothes and into the warm pot of water. She lathered a clean diaper and washed him gently, erasing away the signs of his young street life. Carefully washing what little hair he had and rinsing the suds away, she then allowed him to play in his makeshift bathtub.

She watched the small child for several minutes, supporting him in a sitting position so he wouldn't fall over. The looks that passed across his face were fascinating. One moment he looked angry then upset as he tucked in his bottom lip to cry, and now he was calm and curious. He reached his tiny hand toward the floating bubbles but couldn't quite grasp them with his uncoordinated fingers.

With an excited little squeal, Nate slapped his hand against the water's surface and gasped when it splashed across his face. Natasha laughed softly, picking him up out of the water and using his new thick blanket as a towel. She wrapped him snugly and laid him on the canvas floor once again, drying him off and rubbing him with lotion. By the time she'd finished, he was fresh and clean and smelled like a baby was supposed to. He squealed and cooed contently as she fought to slip his legs and arms in to his new flannel jammies. His soft blonde cap of hair glistened with the dim light and his little cheeks were pink and glowing.

Once Nate was clean and lying happily on the blanket, Natasha slipped out of the tent and fixed the bottle of formula she knew would fill his tummy and put him to sleep. She looked around the deserted area for any sign of life but saw nothing, no one around, no birds chirping, no crickets singing, not even Douglas. A few hundred yards away stood a small cluster of perhaps twenty or thirty trees, tall and shady and very inviting. Natasha wondered why Douglas hadn't chosen to park near them instead of out here under the hot sun. A soft rustle in the dirt behind the tent brought Natasha back to her surroundings. Remembering the lizard that had investigated Nate earlier, she raced back to the canvas covering. The baby lay on his back cooing and gurgling up at the tent's top, investigating and playing with his fingers. Natasha looked around the quiet interior but saw nothing suspicious and felt foolish for worrying.

She fed her new son his bottle and sang softly to him until he slowly drifted to sleep. The child was becoming a very real part of her life, and when she looked down at him sleeping happily and content in her arms, she wondered if she could let him go if the time came that she was forced to. Memories of her own childhood came flooding back into her mind and she smiled when she remembered how much fun she and her brother had as children. Climbing trees and roller-skating, riding bikes, and playing at the beach were all she knew as a child. She remembered the few trips they took with their father before he and their mother divorced. The happiest moments she could remember though, was her mother reading to her, telling her stories, and helping her develop dreams of her own. If she could do that for little Nate, then there was nothing that would stand in the way of her being a good mother.

Natasha laid the sleeping baby down on the blanket and watched for a few minutes to make certain he wouldn't wake up, before moving to the pot of water in the corner of the tent. Its slightly cool contents beckoned to her, her skin begged to be cleansed. The diaper she had used as a washcloth lay on the metal side, the aroma of baby soap filled the tent with a pleasant odor. She quickly removed her soiled clothes, before lathering a small amount of Nate’s soap on the diaper and began scrubbing the layer of grime from her skin. She used her cup from breakfast as a method of rinsing and stepped into the pot to avoid flooding the tent. It was nowhere near large enough for her to sit in as Nate had done, but it was a fair substitute for a makeshift shower.

Several minutes later, Natasha found herself standing in the middle of the tent, moist and clean for the first time in days. Her skin tingled as though her body were thanking her for its long-awaited baptism, her hair dripped down her back happily, caressing her spine and firm buttocks. She felt alive and more energized than she could ever remember feeling after bathing. Her feet dripped dirty soapy water on the pile of discarded clothes, lying next to the tent opening.

Frowning, she realized she had nothing to change into, and she really didn't relish the idea of putting the filthy clothes she had worn for the past several weeks on her clean skin. She glanced over to Nate and then to the blanket she had used to dry him off with. It was large enough to use as a covering and the urge to relax and enjoy her renewed freshness became an all too consuming need. She spread out the blanket next to Nate and lay on it with a deep sigh. It felt sinfully delicious, even the thought that Douglas could at any moment open the tent and find her naked and vulnerable, couldn't force her to move - at least not right away. She enjoyed the feeling of this freeness, this fresh clean tingling she had always taken for granted.

Natasha closed her eyes and slowly drifted into a soft slumber by the heat of the tent, the quiet of the desert, and the soft shallow breathing of Nate's tiny lungs. The wind rustled the sides gently, the whisper of insects sounded outside as they scurried across the dirt, and the heavy sound of footsteps behind the tent echoed through the stillness. Natasha startled suddenly, realizing what she was listening to was not in her dreams, but just outside her canvas protection. She quickly rummaged through the layer of dirty clothes, the three shirts, and the worn stained blue jeans, the two pairs of sweaty, stinky socks. Nothing she could slip on in a hurry besides the heavy overcoat, which she did - hesitantly. Locating her dirty underclothes, Natasha made haste with washing them in the remaining water of the pot. She'd feel safer with her underwear on at least.

She took the small bottle of baby soap and poured a dime's size amount on her panties, socks, and bra and scrubbed them with the vigor of a madman, rinsing the sweat and stench from the cotton layers. Amazed at how white they really were, she squeezed the water out and looked around for a place to hang them, but there was nothing that offered the resemblance of a clothesline. The poles that held the tent up were on the outside of the structure, leaving the inside smooth and flawless. The sound of footsteps faded in the distance and brought a small degree of calmness to her ragged nerves. Deciding that dry underclothes were preferable to dripping wet ones, she slipped out of the tent's shade and back into the desert heat.

The sun was bright with no clouds for shade, and it shined down on her with its full strength. The heavy coat fell to her knees and acted as a thermal blanket, trapping the heat inside, causing Natasha to feel as uncomfortable as a polar bear on a south pacific island. She placed the wet items on the back of the truck, allowing them to soak up the sun’s rays, then went back into the tent to retrieve the pot of dirty water. The pot was large and heavier than it looked, and she sloshed water in the dirt outside the tent as she pulled it across the hard ground. With a little struggling and a lot of silent cursing, she managed to maneuver it behind the dome tent where she pushed it over, emptying its contents to the dry earth. She watched the ground drink up the liquid, unaware her actions were being observed.

"Why didn't you ask for help?" Douglas asked, his tone nearly as heavy as the coat barely hiding her little round bottom from sight.

Natasha jumped and turned around quickly to find him standing close behind her. She tugged the coat across her nakedness a little tighter, feeling as though his eyes were stripping away the thick layers.

"I could have emptied that for you," he continued.

"I'm not as helpless as you'd like to think," Natasha snapped, brushing past him as quickly as she dared.

Douglas watched her movements, unable to divert his stare away from the heavy coat she hugged tightly around her tiny frame, or the slender bare legs beneath it.

"There's a small pond in the middle of those trees over there," he continued once she disappeared into the tent's protection again. "If you'd like, we can take the - Nate - down there and let him play in the water before we have to leave."

Silence met him from the tent, forcing him to clear his throat just to make certain he hadn't thought the words.

"Nate's asleep and I have to wash the rest of my clothes,” she answered from her warm confines. “Besides I thought we were waiting for the others?" Not exactly a refusal, she thought, just an excuse.

"They may not make it here for several more days and I'm anxious to get moving. You can take your clothes down with us and wash them if that's what's bothering you. Nate can sleep in the shade, there's plenty of it around."

"There's no point in disturbing him right now, he's fine where he's at," she snapped, bringing a new flame to Douglas's dwindling anger.

"If you don't want to go just say so but quit making excuses. I thought you might want to spend a little time relaxing, and God only knows when you last had a bath."

Douglas walked away from the tent, leaving the angry words to fade in the heat of the desert. He gathered the camping equipment together and tossed the boxes roughly into the back of the truck, noticing for the first time the wet garments hanging on the tailgate. He gently lifted one of the bra straps and glanced back across his shoulder. That’s why she was making excuses, he cursed himself, remembering the heavy coat she hugged around her. She didn't have anything to wear, nothing. All she owned was on her back, dirty and unbearable from weeks, or possibly months of wear.

He reached into a small duffel bag and pulled out a light blue cotton shirt. Natasha was much smaller than he was so his pants would never fit, even if she rolled them up, but his shirt would do well enough. He pulled it out of the bag and glanced at the drying underwear. That was one thing he couldn't help her with. She would have to make do with what she had. He pulled the articles from the truck's edge and wrapped the damp items inside the shirt.

"Here," he said briskly, reaching his arm through the tent's flap. "I don't have anything else for you to wear, so you'll have to make do with this. Now, no more excuses. I'll finish packing while you get dressed and then we’ll go to the pond. Bring your outer clothes with you. You can wash them there and hang them in the bushes to dry."

Natasha hesitated a moment before taking the shirt from his grip and waited until she heard his heavy steps in the dirt as he walked away. She quickly slipped into her damp underwear and bra and slid her arms through the long sleeves of Douglas’s shirt. Rolling them up five times, made the fabric fit her slender arms, and buttoning it all the way up covered her from mid-chest to knee. The smell of laundry soap and the soft fabric made her feel embarrassed about her rude behavior. She wasn’t looking forward to putting her dirty clothes back on and his offer was generous and greatly appreciated, so why hadn't she thanked him?

Natasha heard the soft thud of boxes being tossed carelessly into the back of the truck, followed by the heavy step of his approach until he stopped just outside the tent. Douglas remained silent, waiting patiently for her to pull the flap back. With her dirty clothes in one arm and a sleeping Nate in her other, she quietly stepped out from the stuffy tent and into the hot exterior of the desert.

"Thank you," she whispered softly as she tried to pull the already long shirttail down past her knees with the fingers holding her dirty clothes.

"My pleasure," he grunted with obvious discomfort and began cleaning out the rest of their belongings from the tent.

"Aren't we taking the tent with us?" she asked, noticing that he had everything else packed, but was leaving the canvas dome standing.

"I'm leaving it for the others to rest in when they get here." Douglas retrieved a small box from the back of the truck and slipped it inside the tent.

"What's that?" she asked, watching him zip the tent flap closed.

"A few supplies to hold them over. They'll be hot and tired when they get here, provided they had to walk all the way and weren’t able to hitch a ride. There are some food and water and a map to Piccadilly. They should be able to find us without much trouble."

"What if they don't come for some reason? What if they changed their minds and turned back? What do we do then?"

Douglas stared at her for a few moments, inspecting her clean face and shoulder-length red hair.

"They'll be here, count on it."

"But what if they aren't? How can you be so sure anyone will show up?"

"If you give a person the chance for something better, even if they must work for it, they'll usually take the risks."

"I think you're giving them too much credit."

"I think you're not giving them enough."

"Just tell me this. If they don't show up, what happens then?"

Douglas remained silent, as he looked her over from head to toe, inspecting her as though he had never seen her before. The intense look in his penetrating green eyes made her feel uncomfortable and strangely excited.

"If nobody shows up, then we'll start a town on our own. We have everything we need, food, supplies, water, even a man and woman. Eden was created with much of the same ingredients." He ignored Natasha's sudden embarrassment as he brushed past her on his way to the driver's side of the cab.

He hadn’t meant to say that and never intended to make her feel uncomfortable or afraid of him, in fact, he had decided to do whatever it took to make amends with her and try to be friends. But the moment he saw her standing there, the soft round curves of a woman's figure silhouetted beneath the thin fabric of his shirt by the sunlight, he lost all thought but one.

Douglas sighed deeply, trying to settle his raging emotions as he started the truck’s engine. He had wanted to take her from the first time he saw her, but pushed his desires aside, ashamed of his feelings for what he had thought were for a child. Now that he knew she was a woman, soft and beautiful and very desirable, he knew keeping his distance in the future wouldn't be easy.

He glanced across the seat as Natasha slid into the cab and laid Nate on the seat between them. The bottom flap of his shirt opened slightly as she adjusted herself in the leather seat, revealing the slightest hint of her slender thigh. If there were such things as miracles, and if he could restrain himself from taking her before the day was over, then all the saints in heaven would praise his effort and welcome him into their fold.

The air was warm, but the water was cool as Natasha slid beneath its surface. The combination made her shiver with a delightful pleasure she had long desired and too long rejected. Douglas made the excuse of wanting to look around for a minute after parking the truck beneath a large patch of trees, leaving her to remove her clothes before diving into the clear water. She splashed about for several minutes in privacy, feeling the splendor of the water as it trickled down the length of hair. She dove under the water, swimming from one side of the small pond to the other and back again. If this was heaven, she never wanted to come down to earth, she thought. She surfaced once more, smoothing the water from her eyes and focusing on a tall, bronze wall standing just inches in front of her. Douglas smiled at the blush that crept up from beneath the water's edge to her cheeks.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said, brushing a strand of red hair from her pale face.

The contrast of her hair against the creamy ivory of her skin was so striking, it was breathtaking.

"I have an idea," he said, his deep accented tone husky and seductive as he slid his massive chest below the water's surface, allowing its coolness to surround him and ease his tension. "Why don't we start over? I'm tired of fighting with you and I don't want anger to come between our new-found friendship. Let's pretend nothing's happened and just begin again. What do you say? Care to be friends with me, Miss Palmer?"

"I've never been very good at making friends with boys," Natasha said staring at the large brown hand extended for her grasp. "But I suppose we could try."

"I have a feeling we're going to be the best of friends, Sweetheart," he winked squeezing her hand gently.

"Why do you insist on calling me that? Every time I ask you not to, you turn around and do it again, despite my objections."

Natasha's irritation caused Douglas to chuckle deep within his chest, sounding like the soft rumble of a storm, yet his eyes revealed only pleasure and amusement.

"It's hard to convince myself you're anything other than somebody's little Sweetheart. I knew a girl like you once and I know, even as hard as she tried, she was still her daddy's spoiled little princess. It was hard to see her as anything else."

"Maybe she didn't try to convince you she was anything else, because she knew you wouldn't have believed her if she did. Regardless of what you would like to think about me though, I don't like being called Sweetheart, and the next time you forget it, I'm liable to remind you with my knee."

"In that case, I'll have to try extra hard to remember your name. That is if Natasha Palmer is your real name."

"Why would I lie about my name?"

"Lots of people do, especially if they're runaways or wanted by someone. Tell me Natasha, which are you?"

"None of the above, but now I’m curious. Was your true love a runaway or was she a desperate criminal?"

Douglas stared at the woman whose beauty and feminine sweetness, was hidden by the water's cool blanket for a moment, and then frowned. He wasn't aware he had said so much as he tried to make her feel at ease. He vowed years ago he would never again think of Debra, much less speak of her to another woman. She was his past, a long-ago dream that would never come true, no matter how hard he had once tried. So why had he mentioned her to this little red-haired beauty? Had Natasha reminded him so much of Debra? Was he willing to fall into the same old trap again?

"Well, are you going to answer me or just stand there staring?" Douglas reached forward and captured her tiny waist in his big hands.

"Neither one," he told her in a hushed whisper, gently pulling her toward him.

They were very different in stature, he was tall, six feet four inches and as muscular as a weight lifter, with long legs and hands large enough to crush her in a single squeeze. She, on the other hand, was of average height, five feet six inches and thin with delightful, well-rounded curves in all the right places. Where he was blonde and bronze, she was red and pale. They shouldn't have matched so well, yet as Douglas lowered his lips to hers, he realized just how well they really did fit together and how right it felt to hold her, as though cut from the same mold, each a missing half of the other.

Natasha trembled against the warmth of his touch as she fell captive to the gentleness of his lips. His long legs pressed possessively against hers as he molded their naked bodies together, his flat stomach brushing her rips, his muscled chest caressing and stimulating her delicate breasts, while the hard evidence of his arousal pressed against her tender body like a branding iron against a cattle's flesh. She felt everything all at once, every nerve responded to his touch, every brush of his magnificent body arousing and stimulating a response from her, begging for more, giving and receiving as much delight as she could physically bare, yet frightened of receiving more than she could endure.

A sound registered through her cloudy conscience and Douglas slowly pulled away, his moan of regret meeting and mingling with the one trapped inside her throat. He stared down at her, green eyes locking with blue, refusing to retreat until at last, the sound registered fully. He pushed away from her with a groan of regret, then turned and made his way toward the pond's bank. He glanced back at her standing motionless in the water, too stunned to move.

"I'll keep them away while you finish," he told her, his tone husky and filled with an emotion Natasha recognized as one she was struggling with herself.

Douglas reached the muddy bank and made his way up the small incline, all the while Natasha watched in awe at the way his muscles rippled across his broad shoulders, his firm strong back. Even the nakedness of his buttocks was extraordinary, firm and lean, and much paler in contrast to the rest of him.

"Uncle Herman, you here?" the voice came again. The sound of children squealing and arguing echoed closer to the seclusion of the pond's hiding place.

Douglas reached for his pants and tugged them up across his wet legs and thighs, groaning as he zipped his erection away from the observing eyes of her desire. He reached down and picked up a bottle, tossing it the distance to Natasha and watching as it landed with a splash in the pond.

"I was hoping to do this for you," he said, the tone of regret obvious in his deep accent. "I'll have to give you a rain check. Go ahead and use it, but hurry. I don't know how long I can keep them away."

Natasha picked up the bottle as it bobbed and floated in front of her. She frowned at the writing before glancing back to Douglas's back, disappearing beyond the trees.

Lice Shampoo, she read silently. Guaranteed to get rid of lice and their eggs, without stripping or damaging the hair.

Natasha sighed as she unscrewed the lid, pouring the smelly liquid into the palm of her hand. Until now, she had managed to convince herself she was just another person living in this wide spacious world. Now, however, she realized she was one of the many statistics, one of the many cast out of life by those richer and luckier, just as Douglas had insisted.

The tears streaming down her cheeks helped remind her, she would never be anything more than one of those people mothers warned their children about, as they hurried past on their way to the shopping malls and banks. She was homeless and worthless and bathing in a pond in the middle of the desert, with a man she didn't know, taking her to a place she never knew existed, with only a dream to keep her warm.

A dream of something better, of something more than she presently had. A dream of a life span longer than the streets dictated. A dream she wasn't all that certain she wanted.