

For Richard or Poorer

Dear Diary...Series

Book 4

By L. M. Reed

Smashwords Edition

Copyright L. M. Reed 2010

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Check out all the books in the Dear Diary...Series by L. M. Reed

The Eyes Have It

Dear Diary...

Finding Mrs. Wright

For Richard or Poorer

One Knight Stand

Take Your Mark

Keeping Count

Christmas Spy

Judging a Book

Also, check out the Agent Jack Knight spin-off series...

Agent Jack Knight: The Beginning

Agent Jack Knight: China

And coming soon...

Agent Jack Knight: Russia

Acknowledgements

I would like to take this opportunity to thank my oldest daughter Autumn for putting together my cover and proofreading my novel, my youngest daughter Michelle whose cute turn of phrase has inspired many of my best scenes and funniest lines, and my spouse Cary whose technical expertise kept my laptop running and kept me from pulling out every last hair on my head.

This novel was definitely a group effort.

Thank you.

The Prologue

As I left the hospital, I knew that was it...the end. I felt like someone had kicked me in the gut, barely able to breathe. Seeing Allison like that, all maternal and...soft...and beautiful...

Cut it out, I told myself viciously, it's over, for good, get used to it. She doesn't want you, never did.

I yearned...literally ached to hate Wilson, and by sheer willpower wish him dead, but I didn't have it in me. Wilson wasn't my enemy, I'd even developed an unwilling respect for him, and that along with the fact that Allison loved him and I loved her, put paid to any ideas I had about placing a death curse on him. I couldn't have done that to her even if it had been in my power to do so.

Part of me had wanted desperately to force her into marrying me, become an informant for her parents like Nat had, but I could never have lived with myself, or her, knowing I had betrayed her trust, realizing she would be in misery and that I was the cause.

There was no doubt in my mind that our respective parents could have coerced her cooperation, our parental units had long ago proven that resistance was futile, but she of all people deserved a chance to make her own decisions.

She was by far the most genuinely kind person I had ever known. Of course, in my realm of acquaintances she didn't have much competition for that title.

Armed with my knowledge of her character, I'd tried to guilt her into dumping Wilson and choosing me, and it had worked up to a point, she'd suffered more for me than I had, but I knew she would never consciously choose me over him.

Whenever she felt strongly about something, my well-placed guilt arrows tended to bounce off her. As head over heels as she was for Wilson, I was fairly certain it wouldn't have worked, even if I had kicked the game into overdrive.

Ironically, the only time in my life I had ever been willing to sacrifice my own happiness for someone else's, and it was the only time it mattered. I was sure a good psychologist would have a field day with my masochistic behavior, unless they were a bleeding heart finding some sappy, gooey, heartrendingly unselfish motives behind my actions.

I alone knew it was self-preservation.

The look on her face as it dawned on her I was saying goodbye for good, almost destroyed my resolve...almost. We had been through a lot together over the past twenty-two years and there was a bond of sorts between us.

I could see that letting go of me would be tough for her, but I knew staying in her life would eventually annihilate me. I was too selfish to let that happen. Life might stink, but it was the only one I had. I wasn't about to give it up by being all self-sacrificing and noble. That just wasn't me.

I was halfway to my apartment when I decided that what I really needed was speed, not the drug kind—although in the mood I was in I wouldn't have completely discounted that possibility—but the kind only my sports car could provide.

Merging onto I35N, I headed toward the DFW area going well over a hundred, passing cars as if they were standing still. The scenery was a blur, but I wasn't interested in the scenery. I needed something that required all of my concentration and, glancing down at my speedometer, I decided grimly that 120 plus miles per hour should do it.

Recklessly, I weaved in and out of traffic, slowing down for nothing, ignoring the red-faced motorists honking angrily at me, passing them as if they were stationary—my car responding as if we were one—and it wasn't long before I entered the Fort Worth city limits.

I debated about turning around and repeating the trip back home—as usual it had left me with an adrenaline rush, a kind of high—but I decided there was nothing in Austin for me to return to at the moment. I had the whole summer to play before taking my last semester of courses in order to graduate with a BBA, and I was determined not to waste it yearning for something that would never be.

Fooling around my first three years of college had put me behind—I always knew I would have to take an extra semester of classes after my senior year in order to graduate—which hadn't bothered me until my near demise the previous year when I had literally pulled Allison out of a fire.

Almost losing my life had shaken me up quite a bit, and I decided to take Allison's advice seriously and try actually studying my senior year. Turned out the correlation between studying and receiving A's was directly proportionate...who knew?

Allison's other idea, the idea of becoming a lawyer appealed to me immensely, but the thought of telling my father was bone-chilling. Although manipulating my parents was usually a piece of cake, I would have to carefully plan my strategy in order to convince my father that my desire to attend law school wasn't a rejection of him.

I feared he would take it personally, no matter what I said or did.

My life was a study in ironies. Once again, the most important thing, even more important than my feelings for Allison, was most likely going to elude me. The one argument with my father that I had never been able to make any headway, and it was the only one that was important.

The few times my mother or I had attempted to bring up the possibility of my attending law school, my father had exploded, not even willing to consider it for a second.

Uncle Felix tried to reason with him, but my father's family had always been in banking and as an only child, it was up to me to continue the tradition. I felt a kindred spirit to Allison in that respect. She too had been forced into playing 'the game' her whole life, but when the chips were down, she had possessed the strength and the courage to make the break. I didn't, it was as simple as that.

I liked money. I liked everything money did for me...fast cars, designer clothes, fancy restaurants, beautiful women...especially the beautiful women. Simply having money drew women like ants to a picnic.

Early in life, I figured out that women were easy for the most part, having been initiated at fourteen by a lonely housewife whose husband was more concerned with balance sheets and ledgers than her, and nothing in my life since then had convinced me differently.

The woman's son and I were friends, of a sort, and she had invited me over for a surprise party, giving me no indication that I was the party...party of one...and that she was the surprise. Once I'd gotten past my feelings of shock and confusion at what was happening to me, I'd been filled with wonder and awe at the incredible pleasure. Like an addict with a drug addiction, I was hooked.

Strangely enough, it was that experience that made me realize how I felt about Allison. Up to that point, she had just been a stinky old girl, one whose presence my parents forced on me at every turn, leaving me no option but to include her in most of my activities, but after that, I began to notice how she was developing, her skinniness turning into curves with everything in all the right places.

The one time I tried to kiss her, however, she had averted her head and I ended up kissing her ear, not that I minded kissing any part of her, but she had raked me over the coals so severely I was afraid to go near her for days after that.

She forgot it fairly quickly and we eventually resumed our normal relationship, friends...kind of...the only problem was that I couldn't be around her without having embarrassing physical problems. I wanted her, badly, and the only way I could stand to be near her was to be fully satiated. There was only one way that was going to happen: sex, and frequently.

My first lover, I couldn't remember her name—come to think of it, I couldn't remember most of the names of the women I'd slept with—apparently was the type to kiss and tell because I began to get invitations from other neglected and lonely women.

At first, I accepted most every offer that came my way in an effort to curb my...urges...when I was with Allison, but eventually I became more discriminating and, as I got older, there were more females in my age group willing to accommodate me so I was able to dump the older women. Not that I didn't appreciate all the things I learned from them, I did, but as they aged, gravity began taking its inevitable toll and I was not a big fan of artificially stretched skin or silicon, which was the norm for middle aged women in my circle.

Even sleeping with women my own age, it became harder and harder for me to find anyone exciting enough to interest me, and eventually I began only dating the drop dead gorgeous ones who were experienced enough to keep my attention.

Most of them were satisfied with some token of my appreciation when I was through with them—as long as it involved diamonds—which usually didn't take long, but a few of them became clingy. I learned the signs well and avoided that type of woman like the plague.

I'd known, or thought I'd known, all along that I would be marrying Allison, and didn't want any type of entanglement to mess that up. Yeah, right.

Exiting I35, I merged onto I20 headed for Dallas.

There was a hotel in downtown Dallas where my parents and I usually stayed whenever we were in the area, and I was sure for the right price the manager of the hotel would be able to find me a suitable room on short notice.

A room was a definite requirement, as I didn't intend to spend the night alone.

Down the street from the hotel, I recalled an extremely popular nightclub my college buddies and I had discovered on one of our numerous weekend trips to the Metroplex. That would do nicely.

I consciously pushed the day's events out of my head and concentrated on getting to the hotel in one piece, my desire for speed satisfied, suddenly looking forward to the evening with a totally different type of craving.

There was plenty of time for a quick shopping spree, not having brought anything with me, and then a short catnap before getting ready for the evening.

Women couldn't seem to resist a perfectly groomed, obviously wealthy, smooth talking, foreign sports car driving, devil-may-care Casanova.

Well, most women, I amended silently as I pulled into the hotel parking lot.

Chapter 1

The Royal Summons

"Hey Richard," Nat waved frantically trying to get my attention without disturbing the other students studying in the library...the librarian was not a tolerant woman.

Nat was sitting at our customary table, which I'd consciously avoided ever since Allison had gone off and gotten married, unwilling to subject myself to any more 'Allison memories' than I could help, but Nat apparently possessed no such issue. Reluctantly, I made my way over to her.

"What is it, Nat?" I asked wearily.

Although she frowned at my use of the shortened version of her name, she had long given up correcting me. Allison had dutifully attempted to remember to call her Natalie, even though we'd used her nickname—which she hated almost as much as she hated her sister, the one who had christened her with it—for over a decade before she had made her displeasure known, but I didn't care and she knew it.

I noted her overly bright eyes with idle interest. She also seemed more wired than usual. Although none of us had ever been stupid enough to do drugs—our parents had made it quite clear that they would never tolerate that—I wondered if she was on something.

"I need an escort for tonight," she said peremptorily.

"And that affects me...how?"

"Oh, come off it," she replied irritably. "You know what I'm asking."

"Funny," I feigned confusion. "I don't remember hearing a question."

"Are you going to make me beg?"

"That would certainly be a refreshing change from your usual."

"Would you please be my escort tonight?" Nat asked with sickening sweetness, batting her eyelashes at me.

"It would be my great honor," I responded sardonically, sweeping an imaginary hat off my head and bowing with a flourish, "milady."

"Oh stuff it," Nat responded angrily, gathering her books.

"If I may be so bold as to inquire the reason for our 'date'..."

"My sister is throwing a birthday party for Phillip at the Country Club," she reminded me. "We talked about this last week."

"Damn," I exclaimed. "I'd forgotten about that. Allison was always the one..." I broke off abruptly, hating the familiar stab of pain that shot through me.

"Don't use that name in front of me," thankfully Nat was too lost in her own hurt to recognize mine. "Pick me up no later than seven. I don't want to be late," she finished haughtily, turning to leave.

"A wise woman once told me you don't always get what you want," I taunted, laughing at the stiffly held, retreating spine.

She predictably ignored me. The librarian, however, glared her displeasure at my merriment.

"Time to leave," I murmured to no one in particular as, following Nat at what I considered to be a safe distance, I made my way to the exit.

Chapter 2

The Incident

"I told you not to be late," Nat eyed me malevolently as she opened the door to her apartment.

"Sorry, Oh My Queen," I mocked. "Perhaps you should fire the royal escort and hire someone else to do your bidding."

"There is no one else," she answered sullenly.

"What do you mean there's no one else?" I asked in disbelief. "You have plenty of men on the hook you could call on for an escort."

"Yeah, but they'd all want..." she bit her lip as if she'd said too much.

"I've never noticed you having a problem...putting out...before," I said suspiciously. "What's the deal?"

"My deal is none of your business," she said defensively. "Are you ready to go or not?"

"I suppose I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

Nat looked pointedly at me, and then at the door. Unlike other people, or one other person in particular, Nat wasn't going to let me get away without all of the gentlemanly courtesies. I grinned as I thought of how guilty Allison would feel if she realized she had left me at the mercy of Nat, then felt temporarily guilty myself at how I'd frequently used Allison's guilt feelings to manipulate her into doing what I wanted while we were growing up.

The party was in full swing by the time Nat and I arrived. As expected there were no surprises, same people, same faces, having the same conversations with the same boring predictability. I titillated all of the middle aged women while ignoring the blatant invitations in their painfully stretched faces and greedy eyes, laughed heartily at all of the middle aged men's jokes, and flirted harmlessly with their rich socialite daughters.

Heading outside to smoke a stogie, I couldn't curb the nostalgia that seemed to come out of nowhere to drown me every time I put in an appearance at one of the social gatherings Allison and I used to attend together.

Over the past few months, since Allison's exit from Austin, I'd realized that it was during those interminable affairs that I missed her the most. She had always made the worst things bearable for me.

Even during the first six months of her marriage, she and Wilson had made an effort to attend most of the important events once Lowell Tate had eaten crow and apologized stiffly for his behavior over their marriage, asking—no, practically begging—Allison to make an appearance at some of the more publicized ones. Unexpectedly, it had taken him longer to get his appointment than he had hoped, and he had needed his family, his whole family, in attendance in an attempt to project a happy, cohesive unit.

If I had been Allison, I would have promptly refused to cooperate, telling him where and how to stick it knowing there was nothing he could do about it, but Allison's perpetual guilt complex wouldn't allow her to do so and I knew Wilson still had high hopes of persuading her parents to accept their marriage. Allison and I both tried to tell him that wasn't ever going to happen, but he, having grown up with a loving mother, had a hard time understanding someone as cold and unfeeling as Lowell Tate.

The only emotion Lowell had ever displayed was rage, and that didn't qualify as a 'finer feeling'.

Ironically, it was Wilson who had made the biggest difference to the powers-that-be. His impressive football season at UT as the starting quarterback that year had been a powerful advertisement for his father-in-law. I cut out a newspaper photo showing the two of them shaking hands, a fake benevolent smile plastered on Lowell's face and, framing it, had given it to Allison as an anniversary gift the previous May. I had roared with laughter, and even James had managed a weak chuckle, but Allison hadn't seen the humor in it, the darts shooting out of her eyes testimony to that fact.

Shaking off my unpleasant recollections, I determinedly brought myself back to the present. After a couple of hours of 'party', I'd had enough. I'd already done my duty rounds, downed the house limit of alcohol, and smoked my way through quite a few stogies out of sheer boredom, although I usually held myself to one a day. I could have joined the men in the 'smoking lounge', but I preferred my own company to their pompous, stuff-shirt, conversations.

Whenever Allison and I had attended events together, she never allowed me to drink much or smoke at all—she hated the smell, even though she admitted my Swisher Sweets smelled better than most—claiming that it clung to her even though she herself never smoked. Nat didn't like smoke either, but I couldn't have cared less.

Thinking of Nat, I decided I'd allowed her more than enough 'party time' and, snuffing out my third cigar, moved back inside to begin searching for her. She was nowhere to be found.

Sighing heavily, I headed back outside, lit up another one and began wandering aimlessly near the darkened tennis courts. I heard Nat's voice coming from that general direction and, although I couldn't make out what she was saying, I could tell she was as infuriated as I had ever heard her.

Allowing my curiosity to get the better of me, I shamelessly moved closer, trying to get an idea of whom she was arguing with and, as I reached the covered pavilion, I recognized Phillip's voice.

"You are out of your mind if you think I'm going to leave your sister," he said coldly. "You're a big girl now, deal with it," he added turning away from her abruptly to make his way back to the clubhouse.

Nat and Phillip!

He was at least fifteen years our senior. I stood stock still trying to wrap my mind around it, but failed miserably. I was no prude, obviously, but for some reason that shocked me to the core.

The sound of Nat's crying brought me abruptly back to the present. She seldom shed real tears, only turning on the waterworks in order to manipulate someone and, no matter what she'd done, I couldn't just go off and leave her there sounding as crushed as I felt.

"Nat," I called softly in order to warn her of my approach.

"Go...away," she hiccupped, carefully dabbing at the tears on her face with a tissue.

"I'm sorry."

"Right," she sniffed sarcastically.

"I wouldn't wish a broken heart on anyone."

"A broken heart..." she repeated in confusion.

"Phillip is too old for you anyway."

"What do you think just happened here?" she asked with an odd inflection in her voice.

"I think it's pretty obvious," I replied, puzzled by her question. "You and Phillip had an affair and he dumped you."

She seemed to ponder my answer for a long moment then asked pitifully, "Will you take me home now?"

"That's why I was looking for you...I don't think anyone will miss us. Do you want to go in and say our goodbyes?"

"No, I just want to leave," she replied quickly.

"Fair enough."

Chapter 3

The Bait

Nat didn't seem disposed to talk and was uncharacteristically silent all the way to her apartment, which was fine by me. I appreciated the break from her normal shrewish-ness. The night's events had softened her and given me a lot to mull over. I was glad Allison would never know what her brother and Nat had been up to. She would have been speechless with disgust and outrage...well almost speechless...Allison was never totally bereft of words.

Idly, I wondered how long it had been going on, not that it mattered, but that would certainly explain why Nat hadn't dated in over a year, not since the whole Whitlock disaster. I'd assumed that her being the dumpee instead of the dumper had caused the lack of interest in finding someone else to take his place, but apparently that wasn't the case.

When we arrived at Nat's apartment, I walked her to her door, and she seemed to come back to the present as she stuck her key in the lock.

"Would you like to come in for a while?" she asked with uncharacteristic hesitance.

Knowing how vulnerable she was probably feeling, I didn't have the heart to turn her down.

"If you'd like," I shrugged.

"That would be nice," she entered the apartment and I followed closely behind. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No thanks," I replied as I seated myself on the couch, searching for her remote.

I wasn't used to her being nice. It was...uncomfortable. To my surprise, she seated herself right next to me.

"Hold me," she begged softly.

"Nat..." I edged away carefully, unsure how to react.

"I need you," she whispered as she moved into my lap and put her hands on my chest. "Please don't reject me, too."

I was helpless against her words, a kindred spirit. We had both loved and been rejected by a Tate. My arms tightened around her, but gently. Nat had always felt like a towering giant despite her small stature simply because of her dominant personality, but she was actually so much smaller than my 5'10" that I was afraid she would break.

I drew in a sharp breath as she began pressing kisses into the side of my neck.

"Nat!" I exclaimed in surprise.

"Ssh..." she shushed me with her fingertips then slowly removed them and replaced them with her lips.

One part of my brain knew that nothing good would come of a liaison with her, but her expert lips were causing havoc with my thought processes and, in my defense, I hadn't slept with a woman in months. I'd been more or less forced to take eighteen hours in order to be able to graduate in December and, determined to keep my grades up in an attempt to gain acceptance into law school on the off chance I was able to convince my father to let me go, I had been studying like a madman.

Nat's fingers pushed my suit coat off and started in on my tie. After making short work of the buttons on my shirt, her hands found my bare skin and her touched set me off.

Until that point, I had been frozen stiff, mostly with shock, but as her fingers teased the hairs on my chest, moving sensuously over my shoulders and back, I felt the familiar fire begin to burn inside of me. I knew I would have regrets in the morning, but that meant nothing to me as I searched for and found the zipper on her dress.

As I followed the line of her throat with my lips, I heard her laugh of triumph.

"Are we covered?" I murmured against her skin, not having discussed her form of protection with her, never in my wildest dreams imagining that there would ever be a need.

For an answer, she once again attacked my lips with hers, effectively silencing me.

I let go of any and all conscious thought as I gave in to the all-too-familiar sensations flooding me.

Chapter 4

The Trap

"Alright I'm here," I said irritably as Nat let me into her apartment. "What do you want?"

"You weren't so reticent a couple of weeks ago," she replied coyly.

"If you're planning on a repeat performance, you can count me out," I responded between clenched teeth. "In case you haven't noticed I've been actively avoiding you."

"We were good together."

"Yeah, well, the after part with you made the rest of it unpalatable," I said in disgust. "Having to deal with a screaming banshee was more than I'd bargained for. Contrary to what you apparently convinced yourself, I was not taking advantage of you, it was the other way around."

"You didn't use any protection."

"I assumed by the way you ignored my well-timed question that you had it covered."

"Well, I obviously didn't because I'm pregnant."

I laughed—I couldn't help it—and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" she asked in alarm.

"Anywhere but here," I replied flippantly, opening the door.

"You can't just leave me," she said desperately. "I'm having your child."

"Right..." I agreed sarcastically "well, good luck with that."

"Stop!" she screamed at me.

I halted in the doorway, turning impatiently to face her.

"What?"

"Don't you have any conscience?" she asked allowing fake tears to gather in her eyes.

"If I thought the baby was mine, I would," I replied cuttingly, "but you were having an affair with Phillip for who knows how long, so odds are it's his."

"It was only one time," she sniffled "and unlike you he used protection."

"One time...?" I raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"And it was over a year ago," she said miserably. "It couldn't be his. I've been so devastated that I haven't dated anyone else since then."

That she had stopped dating was true, and, for the first time, I began to wonder if I could have unintentionally gotten her pregnant.

Damn, why did it have to be Nat of all people?

The one and only time I hadn't protected myself.

"But it sounded like he was breaking up with you that night," I pointed out, grasping at straws.

"He refused to see me, so I planned to use his party as an excuse to corner him and ask him to take me back," she explained. "I was desperate. I told him I loved him, but...well...you saw how he was."

"So what do we do now?" I asked in frustration, unwillingly acknowledging the possibility that I had unwittingly been party to creating another being.

"Our parents are already putting a wedding together..." she began.

"What?" I bellowed in rage slamming the apartment door shut. "You already told our parents, before you even had the guts to tell me?"

"Well, I knew you wouldn't react...favorably...to the idea of marriage," she said reasonably, unflustered by my wrath.

"Favorably...how about no chance in hell am I going to marry you?"

Being the easy-going, live and let live type, I had never before experienced the incredibly mind-blowing rage I felt at that moment. I desperately wanted to wrap my hands around her beautiful, delicate throat and cheerfully choke the life out of her.

I took a couple of deep, calming breaths, panting as if I'd run a mile, and tried to push the homicidal thoughts out of my head. I wanted to be an attorney, not need one.

"Our parents are ecstatic. It's the obvious answer," she replied calmly. "Since that fool Allison pulled that stupid stunt, marrying the housekeeper's son, and is out of the picture..."

"I don't ever want to hear her name come out of your filthy mouth again!"

It was all I could do to keep my hands at my side, fists clenched, in an attempt to control the storm inside of me—which I mistakenly thought I'd subdued—as I felt it spinning out of control. I stood there red faced, unable to see straight, breathing heavily and desperately trying to rein in my emotions before Nat realized...

I was too late.

"You...you're in love with her," she said in amazement. "How long have you...?"

"None of your business," I interrupted abruptly. "My life is none of your business."

"Well it is now," she replied acidly, quickly recovering from the shock of her discovery as it wasn't in her nature to spend too long on anything that wasn't directly related to her. "We're having a baby, and you are going to marry me. Our parents will make sure of that. Allis..." she stopped, changing her mind at the look on my face. "We've both been dumped by the Tates, so there's nothing left for either of us. We might as well make our parents happy. I always knew I would have to marry to please them; better the devil I know than one I don't," she finished calmly.

"You're not the one marrying the devil," I retorted darkly.

"Come on," she coaxed "it won't be that bad. We're good in bed anyway. Most arranged marriages don't even have that much going for them."

"Like sex matters," I muttered.

As I said it, I knew it to be true, knew that I would have rather married Allison, even if she had refused to share my bed, than marry Nat and have an orgy every night.

Figuring out your priorities a tad bit late, aren't you?

Whoever it was that came up with the phrase better late than never had no idea what the hell they were talking about. I should know; I was living proof of the inaccuracy of that statement.

I knew on some plain I deserved Nat—that she was punishment for my poor excuse of a life, my own personal living hell—and that it had been only a matter of time before my reckless living caught up to me, but I couldn't help wishing my sentence had taken some other form...any other form than the evil demon in front of me.

Sighing in resignation, I said, "Fine, we'll marry."

"I knew you would come around," she said smugly. "We'll plan the ceremony for the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, that way we'll have the whole weekend for a honeymoon. We need to pick out a ring...

"You pick it out," I interrupted disagreeably. "I said I'd marry you, I didn't say anything about actively participating. Whatever my parents are willing to cough up is what you can spend, since they still pay the bills."

"What about the honeymoon?" she asked hopefully. "Usually the groom plans it but I don't mind..."

"No," I interrupted abruptly "that one I'll handle."

I didn't have any solid reason for taking on that job other than I had no intention of allowing her to force me into some romantic getaway where we would either be on display so she could show off or alone in order for her to brag about it when we returned.

Nat was all about extremes, so it would have been one or the other. My instinct for self-preservation had kicked in with a vengeance, urging me to take control of that part, and I was a firm believer in following my instincts.

"Great," she responded enthusiastically, "I'll get our mothers together and we'll start working on it right away. We don't have much time..."

"Whatever," I said turning to leave.

"Wait," she called after me, "I may need you..."

"Leave a message on my machine," I threw over my shoulder as I left the apartment.

Chapter 5

Nat's Farce

"I do," I repeated obediently.

I'm blue, improvising silently. Or maybe I should say I'm doomed.

Inarguable...even though it lacked rhyme.

Desperate for something to occupy my mind, I'd begun substituting my own irreverent words in place of the minister's reverent ones.

Instead of 'for better or worse' it was 'for fetters or hearse', 'in sickness and in health' had become 'in wickedness and in wealth' and for 'till death do us part' I had simply inserted 'hopefully' into the phrase.

I'd much prefer it to be Nat taking an early departure from the world, but I was willing enough to take on that role myself if it meant escaping her clutches. I, however, drew the line at assisting either of us into the afterlife...for my own selfish reasons.

Nat had characteristically insisted that 'for richer or poorer' be omitted as she would never tolerate 'poorer'.

Although my mind wandered aimlessly, my body was captive to the whole production, and production it was. Our parents had put together the event of the season in two and a half short weeks.

There was Nat, laughably a vision in white, flowers and candles everywhere, ten attendants for each of us, flower girls, ring bearers who didn't bear any rings...the list went on and on...and it was ridiculous, a parody of Allison's intimate, love-filled wedding.

I was empty inside. Even the panic I'd felt as I arrived at the huge cathedral realizing that I was about to be tied to a she-devil for the rest of my days had deserted me, leaving me with nothing.

I felt a sharp pinch on my hand, as the she-devil in question demanded my attention.

"The ring?" the minister repeated eyeing me quizzically.

"Oh yeah," I mumbled and turned to retrieve the meaningless gold circle from my 'Best Man', one of Nat's many Italian cousins she insisted I use as my attendants...Alberto or Alfonso or Antonio...some name beginning with an 'a' and ending with an 'o'.

"With this ring I thee wed," I dutifully mimicked.

With this thing I behead.

Hmm...not really fitting; needs sharper edges for that. Had a nice 'ring' to it though, I continued musingly. Ha-ha very funny. Man, I'm getting desperate, pulling out stupid puns.

I muffled my 'Ow' as Nat, well aware that I wasn't paying any attention to what I considered nothing more than a fraud, viciously shoved her ring on my finger, as she repeated her lines.

I smiled down at her giving it the appearance of a loving gesture, but Nat knew it for what it was, a promise of retribution later.

Even though I was too much of a gentleman to ever use physical violence, I knew that her parents were going to stop the cash train and she would have to rely on me to pay her bills.

Although I had long ago observed to Allison that it was usually the man who held the purse while the woman controlled the purse strings, I was determined not to let that happen. Knowing Nat as well as I unfortunately did, I realized that money was the only way I would ever be able to exert any control over her. I needed to use my power wisely.

...and with the pinching again.

Yanking myself back to the present, I glanced questioningly at Nat wondering what I was doing wrong, or not doing right, as she furiously hissed, "Kiss me".

With a mischievous grin playing around my lips, I slowly raised her veil and lowered my head to oblige. I could see the suspicion clearly visible in Nat's eyes as she noticed my expression. Nat, always very concerned about appearances, had made it quite clear that I was to give her a respectful peck and let it go at that.

Might as well let her know who's boss right from the start, I decided, planting one on her.

I could feel the conflict in her as I pressed my lips hard against hers using her veil to hide us from the audience so they wouldn't realize that I was making no attempt to actually kiss her, just control her, and I could tell she desperately wanted to struggle, but realized she would appear undignified.

I counted to ten, slowly, then released her, showing all the signs of a groom who could hardly wait to get his bride alone.

The hoots and hollers from the young male portion of the audience had her seething. She plastered a smile on her face as the minister presented husband and wife to the crowd, and we began moving down the aisle followed leisurely by the attendants.

"You...you swine!" she erupted once we were safely alone in the foyer.

"And that would make you Mrs. Swine," I laughed in amusement, the first genuine amusement I'd felt since the night Nat had seduced me.

Her squeal of frustration was cut short by the congratulations and hugs of all of her cousins as they joined us.

I chuckled and faded into the background, content to be ignored. The bride was the one who garnered all the attention on her wedding day, the groom merely the vehicle used to get her to that point, and I was thankful for that.

The alcohol flowed freely at the reception, especially the champagne—I had to admit the champagne fountain was impressive—but I uncharacteristically abstained, having no intention of becoming even slightly lightheaded as I'd been the night I'd accidentally gotten Nat pregnant.

Alcohol was trouble, and I fervently wished I had followed Allison's example and become a teetotaler. If I had, I wouldn't have been such an easy target for Nat's advances and still been a free man...or at least free of Nat.

I was determined not to be even the slightest bit inebriated on my wedding night, but not for the usual reasons. While Nat had been busily planning our wedding, I had been busy with other things.

I had used my considerable powers of persuasion, or coercion as Allison use to call it, to convince my father, first off, to help me get into law school at UT and then, secondly, to pay for it. They also, along with Nat's parents, agreed to totally support us financially as well as jointly buying us a house...one of my choosing.

My flat refusal to marry Nat unless they agreed to my terms was enough to ensure my father's cooperation. As much as I hated the thought of trying to make it on my own, I was quite determined to dump them if I had to in order to escape Nat and realize my dream of becoming a lawyer, having been inspired by Allison's bid for freedom. I was only a month from my degree, which meant I would be at liberty to do as I pleased.

My father, finally realizing I wasn't bluffing, reluctantly admitted defeat. If they were going to insist I marry the witch, I was at least going to have the career I wanted. I refused to be miserable twice over.

Finding a place to live had been the easiest part. The search criteria I'd given the realtor simply consisted of a guest house, in order to provide living quarters for live-in help without anyone actually residing in the house with us, and separate connecting bedrooms so I would be able to avoid sharing a room with Nat.

I personally didn't care if they were connected, but I knew it would look strange to other people if they weren't. Nat was sure to decorate the house to the hilt, or in her case, have an interior designer do it at great cost to our respective parents no doubt, and would want to show off every part. I had no intention of raising eyebrows and answering questions about our sex life or lack thereof.

I found the perfect house just south of Austin on two well-manicured acres. My parents had assured me the house would be ready to move into by wedding time, and I smiled as I jingled the set of keys residing in my pants pocket that my father had handed me right before the ceremony. I told both sets of parents that it was a surprise for Nat, asking them to keep the house a secret, and they were more than willing to oblige, relieved I was being so agreeable.

Which brought me back to my reasons for wanting to remain stone cold sober; I had plans and they didn't involve celebrating our farce of a wedding or sleeping with Nat.

I could tell she was disgruntled at the way I had been treating her the past two weeks, but I didn't care. Her few attempts at stirring my interest had left me unmoved and she was peeved. She had finally given up and left me strictly alone, but I knew her well enough to know she was biding her time.

In her mind, she was irresistible and I could see the wheels turning as she realized I would be a captive audience on our wedding night. It wasn't that she wanted me, she simply needed me to want her.

I was determined to be in total control of the situation and myself in order to escape unscathed. Nat had a way of finding a man's weakness and exploiting it and I fully intended to keep my weaknesses under lock and key. Nat was an expert in bed and my sexual self-control was practically non-existent so my only recourse was to avoid any situation where I would be at her mercy.

Nat sent one of her female cousins, Carlotta I believe was her name, to find me when it was time to perform my duties as groom. A few months earlier, I would have been happy to take Carlotta up on the blatant invitation in her eyes and body language, but as beautiful as she was, Nat's pregnancy had, at least temporarily, killed my libido. I hoped someday to be able to reawaken it, but it was neither the time nor the place. I thanked Carlotta politely and went in search of Nat, anxious to end the whole charade.

While Nat impatiently hauled me over to the bridal table, I realized we were finally to the part I had been semi-anticipating. Standing next to the punch bowl, we each picked up a champagne glass someone had thoughtfully filled for us and entwined our arms to take a drink for the picture.

I moved my arm at exactly the right moment and champagne dribbled down Nat's chin. Apologizing profusely, I swiped clumsily at her face, smearing her lipstick, stifling the laughter that threatened to escape as I took in Nat's killing glare creating havoc with the sweet bride-like demeanor she was trying to present to our audience.

"Stop that!" she hissed out of the side of her mouth as she grabbed my arm and moved me over towards the wedding cake.

Grasping Nat's hand as she held the knife, we cut the cake as the photographer snapped more pictures, and I deliberately forced the knife over making sure the piece would be rather large.

Realizing what was about to happen, Nat muttered threateningly, her lips barely moving as she attempted to sustain her smile.

"Don't...you...dare!"

She picked up a small piece, not wanting to ruin her manicure by getting cake under her nails I decided wryly, indicating that I should do the same, and carefully lifted the piece to my mouth. She smiled in relief as she saw the delicate bite sized portion I had pinched off the frosting and I knew she would be relaxed thinking I was finally going to behave myself.

As I moved slowly to place the sweet morsel in her mouth, she closed her eyes in expectation. What she expected and what she actually received were two very different things.

I thought her white frosting mustache was a nice touch. Apparently, Nat did not. She was having a hard time not coming unglued at the seams as I ineffectually dabbed at the frosting plastered on her upper lip only making it worse while apologizing effusively for my klutziness.

After a trip to the ladies room to fix the damage I had wreaked on her face, Nat returned ready to go another round with me if the look in her eyes was any indication. I'd had my fun and as rewarding as it was to see Nat enraged, I was sick and tired of the whole mess and decided I would behave for the rest of the reception, hoping to speed things up, simply ready for it all to be over.

Nat perched herself daintily on the edge of a strategically placed chair in the middle of the reception hall, the center of attention, as I dutifully pulled the garter off of her leg and shot it into the air. Another one of her cousins, a Roberto or Ricardo or some similar name caught it.

Again, I faded into the background, my work done, while Nat made a huge show of tossing her bouquet.

After assuring herself that she had everyone's attention, she finally exited to change into her 'going away' outfit.

With Nat gone, unfortunately all the attention turned to me. I silently cursed my lack of forethought in not having any extra clothes to change into so I could escape behind a locked door.

The groomsmen all moved into one of the empty rooms to change in order to give their tuxedos to the one in charge of the rentals, but since I owned mine, I hadn't given it any consideration.

I grinned in what I hoped was a lecherous manner in answer to the blue comments being bandied about concerning the honeymoon once the bride was no longer in evidence, masking my disgust, entirely fed up with the entire proceeding and desperately yearning for an end to it all.

I debated about downing a couple glasses of champagne in spite of my good intentions out of sheer misery and boredom, but decided against it, reminding myself I would be alone with Nat in the limo for quite a while and didn't want to end up doing something stupid just because I was tipsy.

Sighing heavily, I moved deliberately towards the door where Nat had disappeared. I had no idea how long it would take her to change, but standing outside the room acting like a lovesick groom was preferable to fielding comments, jokes, and questions from well-meaning guests.

I pulled up a chair and made myself comfortable.

Chapter 6

My Turn

Finally, after what seemed hours, Nat emerged showing off what was no doubt a designer dress—which had probably cost someone a pretty penny—waving at all of the people oohing and aahing over her, clearly enjoying the attention.

Relieved to be so close to the grand finale, I eagerly moved toward her and held out my arm for her to take. Nat smiled her queenly smile, happy to see me playing my role so well, and put her hand in the crook of my arm. I grabbed it, to all intents and purposes the loving bridegroom in the throes of impatient desire when, in actuality, it was to keep her from escaping, and rushed her out to the limo before she had time to draw a breath, anxious to avoid as much rice as possible.

I practically threw her into the back seat of the white stretch limo, only stopping for a split second to salute the crowd mockingly before joining her.

"Finally," I breathed and leaned back into the leather seat, closing my eyes.

"You idiot," she berated me. "You weren't supposed to hurry me out like that. I wanted to show off my dress."

"Blah, blah, blah..." I chanted without opening my eyes.

"You ruin everything!" she accused me hotly. "Why can't you ever behave? You are so immature..."

A screaming banshee had nothing on Nat in full spat, I thought in amusement.

I must have smiled involuntarily at my unintentional rhyme, because Nat stopped her tirade abruptly with a high-pitched squeal of frustration and then there was silence...blissful, blissful silence.

After a few minutes, Nat decided to change her tactics.

"So where are we going for our honeymoon?" she asked sweetly.

"San Antonio," I replied shortly without opening my eyes, irritated but not surprised she wouldn't or couldn't shut up.

"I guess that will have to do since we only have Thanksgiving weekend," she complained. "I don't know why you couldn't just skip classes for the week and have a real honeymoon."

"I'm trying to raise my grades to get into law school, not dump them in the toilet," I said dryly.

"Where are we staying?"

"The Menger."

I knew she'd like that.

"That sounds promising."

She was so predictable.

I didn't comment. She would know soon enough I had no intention of fulfilling any promises.

"At least the River Walk is romantic," she continued, not requiring any input from me. "You'll need to make reservations for the Tower, of course, and we'll have to make a trip to..."

I tuned her out, hoping to catch a few z's. Understandably, I hadn't slept much since her little announcement, between studying as well as planning my part of things, and I was worn out from having to keep up all the pretense. Eventually, her droning put me to sleep.

"Richard, wake up...we're here."

Surfacing slowly, with Nat yanking impatiently on my arm, I groaned. I'd been hoping that when I awoke, I would discover that the wedding ceremony had been nothing more than a horrendous nightmare. Instead, my nightmare was still sitting in the limo with me.

"I'm awake," I said irritably, jerking my arm out from under her hand before stretching and yawning.

"Ew," Natalie whined, "You need a breath mint."

"Huh, that bad is it?" I asked innocently, exhaling directly into her face.

"Oh grow up, Richard," she pushed me away angrily.

"You've seen to that, haven't you?" I muttered resentfully as the limo stopped in front of the Menger.

I left Nat directing the bellhop as he unloaded her luggage from the trunk, and entered the hotel. The lobby was magnificent, but I had been there many times before and didn't even bother to glance around, intent on reaching the check-in desk.

I winced as I signed us in, Mr. and Mrs. Richard Stover, and then turned back to see Nat berating the bellboy for some imagined offense he had apparently committed.

Casually strolling over to join them, I smiled encouragingly at the young man who was attempting to pacify Nat.

"Hello," I greeted him amicably. "What's your name?" I asked, glancing at his nametag.

I felt years older, even though there was probably less than a year difference in our ages.

"Tim," he replied, turning to me thankfully.

"Well, Tim," I began in a conspiratorial manner, pulling him off to the side out of Nat's hearing as she eyed us suspiciously, "I have a big favor to ask, and I'm willing to tip generously."

"Yes sir," he replied immediately.

"I have some errands to run," I explained conversationally, "and I was hoping you would be able to take my...er...wife...up to our suite and get her settled in for me."

I pulled out a hundred dollar bill and slipped it unobtrusively into Tim's hand. My father had been extremely generous when I had hit him up for cash for the honeymoon.

Tim glanced at the tip, just as unobtrusively, and grinned appreciatively.

"Whatever you say, sir," he answered, surreptitiously pocketing the bill.

I glanced over at Nat standing by the luggage...steaming...and added, "A word of warning, though, no matter what she says, just smile and nod. She hates it when I have to leave her side even for a moment so she won't be in the best of moods."

"For you, sir, anything," he vowed.

"Don't be so hasty," I chuckled. "You are about to earn every penny of that tip. It's up to you to explain to her that I have to go out."

With that, I quickly turned on my heel and headed towards the front entrance. Entering the limo, I motioned to the driver to take off. I didn't bother to look back.

Chapter 7

The 'Honeymoon' is Over

"How dare you!" Nat began ranting as soon as the chauffeur deposited her and her luggage in the foyer and departed. "Leaving me alone in a hotel for four whole days..."

"It was a very nice hotel," I replied mildly. "And I did send the limo back for you."

"That's not the point," she looked in imminent danger of a stroke. "It was our honeymoon!"

"Actually, it was your honeymoon," I reminded her, "Just like it was your wedding. I'm paying my dues for one night of semi-pleasure, but I don't plan to put myself at your mercy again."

"What do you mean?"

Her anger dissipated, replaced by wariness.

"Let me see if I can put it in simple terms so even you can understand," I patronized. "I'm not sleeping with you...ever."

"But...but...we're married," she stammered.

I had to admit, it would have been amusing to see Nat so disconcerted if her statement weren't so tragically true.

"Just so there's no confusion, I married you because my parents threatened to cut me off financially if I didn't," I stated baldly. "Don't get me wrong," I held up my hand to stop the protest forming on her lips, "I wasn't going to bail on the kid, I would have faced up to my responsibilities, but I had no intention of taking you on as a wife. In order to stay in their good graces, I cut a deal with them: law school, a house, and total financial support until I'm established in the law firm in return for me agreeing to marry you. As far as I'm concerned, this is purely a marriage of convenience, in name only, because I realized that they would have eventually come around to the idea of our union on their own anyway. It was simply a matter of time."

"You can't really mean to..."

"This house has separate connecting bedrooms to avoid undue speculation—you can have the bigger one with the most closet space, I know how important that is to you—and I spent this last weekend, while you were pampering yourself at my parents' expense, putting locks on my bedroom and study doors. Any room that isn't locked is yours to do with as you please," I informed her dispassionately.

"I don't know why you seduced me that night, but I know you did, don't bother to deny it. Maybe you did it because it had already dawned on you that your time as a single woman was fast coming to a close and as you so eloquently put it 'better the devil you know than the one you don't', I don't know, but I do know you planned it. You had to know I would never willingly marry you, but that is all irrelevant now; what is relevant is the fact that I refuse to have any type of intimate relationship with you. You are pregnant with our one and only child. The thought of one child carrying our combined genes is horrible enough to contemplate, I'm not about to inflict anymore damage on the world than that. "

"Fine," Nat replied haughtily, "you weren't that good in bed anyway."

"Glad we understand each other," I grinned at her pitiful attempt to deflate my ego. "Oh, one other thing, my parents have talked to your parents and along with paying our living expenses they've agreed to give us an allowance until I'm making enough money to support us."

"I knew they would" she smiled smugly.

"However," I continued as if I hadn't heard, "All of the money will be deposited into my account and I will decide how much you receive each month to spend on your...essentials."

"That's not fair..."

"Fair or not, they've agreed to it," I cut her off callously. "Your parents have closed all of your standing accounts and don't for a second think you'll be able to manipulate them into giving you more money behind my back. They are actually relieved I'm putting you on a short leash. Apparently, you've been more of a money pit than I've ever dreamed of being, and that's going to stop. I plan to have you well-trained before I finish law school and have to foot the bills myself."

"You have no right..."

"I am your husband," I replied curtly, "I have every right. If you want any extra money you can go out and get a job yourself after this semester when you get your marketing degree."

"You...I..."

"Save it," I interrupted abruptly. "You've had everything your own way for as long as I can remember, but not any longer. I didn't want this marriage, but for some reason you apparently did; now it's time to pay the piper."

"You are the one who will pay," she vowed. "I won't let you get away with treating me like this."

"You're welcome to divorce me," I grinned hopefully.

That thought hadn't occurred to me before, but it had a sweet sound to it.

"My parents aren't going to stand by and watch you abuse me," she warned as she glanced around frantically searching for the phone. "I'll show you."

"Be my guest," I offered mockingly, knowing she would get no sympathy from that quarter. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some school work to catch up on," I said as I moved towards the study turning to add, "and I'm guessing you do, too, although whether you finish your last semester of college is totally up to you. Your parents did agree to pay for that as long as you promised to graduate."

Locating the phone and picking up the receiver, she turned away, her body language making it clear she was done with me. I had no problem with that.

Unlocking my study door, I let myself in and promptly locked it behind me. Nat could have the rest of the house. I had a bedroom, bathroom, and study with my own private phone line and deadbolt locks to keep her out...I was set.

Leaning back in my leather chair, feet propped up on the corner of my desk, I lit a cigar and inhaled deeply.

Not bad, I decided chuckling to myself, not bad at all.

Chapter 8

Reprieve

"I've talked to my parents. They've agreed to pay for me to spend the summer in Colorado," Nat said, adding defiantly, "and there's nothing you can do about it."

Her voice metaphorically stuck its tongue out at me, and it amazed me that she refrained from the physical gesture as well. Her childish temper tantrums seemed to be growing in direct proportion to her belly.

"Their money, their decision," I shrugged nonchalantly trying to hide my delight at her blunt statement.

"You're okay with it?" she asked doubtfully.

"I'm sure a summer pregnancy will be much more pleasant in Colorado than in Texas," I acknowledged. "I have no desire to see you suffer, regardless of what you believe."

Actually, I had no desire to see her at all, hence my delight at her announcement, so I was being entirely truthful.

"You're saying I can go?"

"I thought you said there was nothing I could do about it."

"There's not," she returned to her previous defiant stance. "I just thought you would try to stop me."

"Have I ever stopped you from doing anything you wanted to do?"

"All the time," she accused.

"I don't recall ever telling you not to do something," I replied firmly. "That would be a waste of breath."

"You never give me enough money to do what I want," she whined.

"If you quit spending every cent of your allowance immediately," I pointed out mildly, "you'd have plenty of money."

"If you weren't so stingy..."

"That's a moot point," I interrupted abruptly. "I pay our living expenses, keep out what I need and give you the rest, which is considerable. As I've said many times before, you have your marketing degree now, so if you want to get a job..." I left my statement hanging.

"Oh, you're impossible," she huffed as she left the room.

Chuckling quietly, I closed the door behind her not bothering to lock it. After six months of marriage, Nat had finally given up attempting to open the locked doors and left my parts of the house strictly alone.

The only person, besides me, with a key to every room was Mrs. Arnold the housekeeper. She and her husband, whom I had hired to be our gardener, had proven themselves trustworthy in the few short months since they had come to work for me, and I gave Mrs. Arnold carte blanche to run the house as she saw fit.

I made it clear to the Arnolds from the start that their job was dependent solely upon me; Nat had no say in the matter. I asked them to do their jobs, be polite to Nat—informing me immediately if any conflicts arose—and refrain from gossiping about our household. In return, I paid them well and treated them respectfully, resolving any issues quickly and efficiently. They agreed to live in the guesthouse, and I paid all of their utilities as a part of their salary.

Recently married, they had both been single while working for Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald, extremely wealthy patrons of my father's bank, when they met. Apparently the lady of the house was a regular virago, something I knew a lot about regrettably, and had on more than one occasion verbally abused her housekeeper. Mr. Arnold had risen to her defense, of course, and they'd both been summarily dismissed. I happened to be present when Mrs. Fitzgerald came in ranting about needing to find another housekeeper and gardener.

Looking for a housekeeper myself—Nat had tried to hire a few different women but I had nixed that right away—and knowing Mrs. Fitzgerald fairly well, I decided to find her former employee and offer her a job. It hadn't been my original intention to hire a gardener, planning to use a weekly lawn service instead, but the idea of having a two-for-one package appealed to me, so I decided to offer them both a job if they appeared to be a good fit.

The Arnolds, in the meantime, had married and were staying at a cheap, somewhat sleazy hotel while they searched for jobs, but were understandably reticent to talk about their previous experience with the Fitzgerald family...in particular, Mrs. Fitzgerald.

I offered them a job immediately, hoping their reluctance to discuss the circumstances of their last employment was a good sign indicating that they were both very discreet, and the past few months had proven that I had no cause to regret my instinctive decision.

The fact that Nat disliked them only reinforced my opinion.

Although they were newly married, they had married late in life--Mrs. Arnold almost forty and Mr. Arnold a few years older—and had no plans to have children. I assured them if they changed their minds I would make adjustments for them—I had no desire for children, although I realized it was important to other people—but I could tell they felt they were too old to start a family. Honestly, it made no difference to me either way, I just considered myself lucky to have found such loyal employees.

A week after our conversation, Nat left for Colorado. I had no idea what the exact agreement between her and her parents entailed, but I consented to have her allowance wired to a bank in the area where she was staying. I simply felt relief. I would have the whole house to myself until the middle of August, when the baby was due. By the time she returned, I would be starting law school, and be too busy to be bothered.

I didn't want a baby, had no paternal feelings, but I realized I might have to spend some time playing father.

Although Nat hated being pregnant—she was already huge—she ironically developed some strange attachment to the thing growing inside of her. The few times I had attempted to show interest, she practically growled at me.

Instead of being offended, I was ashamed to admit I felt liberated. If Nat didn't want me involved, I was more than happy to oblige.

June and July passed peacefully. The Arnolds were particularly pleased with the new atmosphere of the house, although they were too politically correct to say so, and as much as I dreaded Nat's return, I suspected that Mrs. Arnold truly hated the thought of having to deal with her again. My threats about cutting her allowance usually kept Nat in line, but she was still hard to stomach.

I would have to think about giving the Arnolds a raise every year just to ensure they wouldn't leave. Perhaps I could take that out of Nat's allowance. The thought brought a smile to my face until I realized that I would be constantly fielding the blasts from Nat's arsenal if I were to do so.

Sighing, I knew that I would have to ask my parents for more money if it looked like the Arnolds were planning to abandon ship. I needed them desperately.

Chapter 9

Back on Death Row

"The baby wasn't due until August," I frowned at the receiver.

"Sometimes babies come early," Mrs. Preston, or Lillian as she constantly insisted I call her, didn't seem concerned. "Laticia was only two weeks early and is doing just fine."

"Laticia...?" I asked in confusion.

"The baby," Lillian rebuked me. "Natalie told you she was naming the baby after her paternal grandmother who died a few years ago: Laticia Rachelle."

"Oh yeah, right," I pretended to remember.

I tuned out most things Nat said, but I wasn't about to admit that to my mother-in-law.

"Anyway, she and the baby will be staying in Colorado for another two weeks until the doctor says it's okay for Nat to travel," she continued. "I know you have a lot on your plate starting law school, so I am going to leave for Colorado immediately and help her find a nanny. Don't worry, Robert and I will pay for the nanny until you get settled into the law firm and start making a good income."

"That will be fine, Lillian," I assured her "After all, it is your grandchild. I just want you to remember our agreement for when Nat returns home."

"I promise Robert and I will not give her a cent once she's home again," she was quick to agree.

"And the money for the nanny...?" I reminded her.

"We will funnel it through you, since you are paying the bills," she conceded. "You have done wonders with Natalie since your marriage," she admitted in awe. "We've never been able to control her spending the way you have."

"I'm glad you see it that way," I said in a grateful tone, "Because Nat certainly doesn't. I know she complains to you..."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Lillian hastened to interrupt. "I've gotten very good at saying 'he's your husband, you need to take it up with him' just like you suggested. It works every time."

"Thanks, Lillian, you don't know how much it means to me to have you on my side," I smiled knowingly, although she couldn't see it.

I knew exactly why she was on my side, but I was nothing if not diplomatic.

"You know you can count on us," she vowed. "I'll be leaving for Colorado tomorrow. Nat should be out of the hospital and back at her aunt's house by then. I'll keep you informed."

"Thanks," I replied and hung up.

Leaning back in my chair, I laughed aloud. Although I had a certain fondness for Robert Preston, his wife was almost as hard to stomach as Nat at times, and she was directly responsible for Nat turning out so rottenly.

Nat had once, in a fit of anger at her mother, confided in me that her mother's given name was Lolita, but she'd legally changed it to Lillian because it sounded more refined. Lillian claimed to be a descendant of some sort of Italian nobility and both she and Nat were snobs of the first order.

With Nat safely married off, Lillian immediately insisted on Robert allowing her more money to spend a month. The older she got the more plastic surgeries and beauty aides she needed to keep looking young. Paying for the nanny was probably Robert's idea, because I couldn't see Lillian willingly parting with a nanny's salary when she could be using the money on herself.

I groaned realizing I would have to break the news to the Arnolds.

At least we have another two weeks.

That wasn't much consolation.

~ * * ~

Nat came blowing into the house much like a hurricane bent on mass destruction, shouting instructions and expecting instant obedience. Nodding to Mrs. Arnold in resignation, I allowed Nat to have her way for the hopefully short time it would take her to get settled.

Mr. Arnold probably felt like a pack mule as many trips as he had to make up and down the stairs, slowly chipping away at the mountain of luggage that seemed to have multiplied a thousand fold since Nat's departure. I would have to make it up to the Arnolds monetarily, as always, and pray that would be enough to keep them happy.

Although she'd obviously had a baby, as evidenced by the slight bulge still visible around her middle as well as the old biddy following in her wake carrying a bundle of blankets, she didn't look any more maternal than she had the last time I'd seen her. Nothing at all like...

Don't go there, I berated myself sternly.

In my mind, I had, subconsciously at least, expected to feel something for the swathed figure being held firmly in the arms of the middle-aged, severe-faced prune Nat had hired, but a glimpse of the small, bald, scrunched faced, pointy-headed, funky-eared Yoda look-a-like mewing plaintively was enough to convince me that I wanted nothing whatsoever to do with the 'thing' I had unwittingly helped create.

The fact that the old battle-axe holding the tiny creature barely allowed me close enough to get a quick look, bothered me not a wit.

Apparently, she and Nat were of one mind when it came to my involvement and that was more than fine by me.

I realized that I would have to include baby costs in Nat's allowance, and that would be hard to swallow, but I was fairly confident that I could convince my parents to kick in a bit more since Nat's parents were footing the bill for the nanny.

In no uncertain terms, I had informed them that 'it' was the only grandchild I was planning on providing them...ever.

Cringing, I shut myself in my study and tried to block out the disheartening sounds of invasion drifting into my sanctuary from other parts of the house. After what seemed an eternity, silence stole over the household.

A quiet knock on the door heralded the arrival of Mrs. Arnold politely asking if I required anything else. One look at her determinedly calm demeanor, and I knew what I had to do.

"I think you and Mr. Arnold should take the rest of the day as well as tomorrow off, Mrs. Arnold," I said mildly. "In fact, I'm going to call the Hilton and reserve you a room, my treat. You both deserve a break."

"But Mrs. Stover just..." Mrs. Arnold began half-heartedly.

"I appreciate your concern," I smiled warmly, "but I'm sure Mrs. Stover will be fine. The nanny will be here if they need anything."

"What about you, Mr. Stover?" she asked with genuine concern.

"I plan to eat out...a lot...the next couple of days," I said dryly. "And don't worry about the house. Either they will clean up after themselves or Mrs. Stover will be paying to have a cleaning service come in to put the house back in order."

"If you're sure..."

"Go pack," I commanded with mock sternness. "And have fun...that's an order."

"Yes sir," Mrs. Arnold's eyes twinkled as she saluted me before turning sharply on her heel and hurrying from the room.

Leaning back in my chair, I pondered how best to deliver the news to Nat that she was on her own for the next two days. I could leave her a note, call her from my private phone line in the study, or tell her face to face.

The first two were the coward's way out, and I couldn't afford to show any type of weakness with Nat, so that left only the third option.

I waited until I knew the Arnolds were safely out of the house before I bestirred myself to face my own personal demon.

Well, I thought wearily as I reluctantly pushed myself out of my chair, procrastination won't make it any easier so I might as well get it over with.

Chapter 10

Spoiled Rotten

"I will not stay here another minute," the nanny, another stern faced old hag in a long line of hags whose names I couldn't remember, informed me angrily.

"What seems to be the problem Ms...?" I left the sentence hanging, unwilling to admit I was at a loss as to what to call her.

"That child is spoiled rotten," she answered furiously. "I'll be surprised if my whole hand doesn't become infected and turn gangrenous and fall completely off."

Stifling a chuckle, I recalled what I had dubbed her when I'd hired her, Ms. Doom and Gloom, but I didn't have a clue as to her real name. Our interview had consisted of my asking general questions and her answering with the same type of negative commentaries and meanderings that I was once again being subjected to. I'd thought for sure she and Nat would be a match, neither had a cheerful bone in their bodies, but apparently I was wrong.

"What exactly did she do?" I asked curiously wondering why Nat was going through nannies so quickly when her little 'darling' wasn't even four years old yet.

"We were at the park, which should be outlawed by the way, full of flea-bitten dogs, and children with all types of germs, it's a wonder I'm not deathly ill with some mysterious disease with all of the foreigners they allow in the states these days..."

"We were talking about your ward..." I interrupted smoothly, "at the park...and what happened that upset you so greatly."

"Oh yes, of course," she pulled herself back from her depressive musings with an effort. "Well, anyway, there I was sitting on the park bench watching Laticia play with the other children, all wiping their nose on their sleeves and sneezing on one another and what not...why I wouldn't be surprised if I came down with a cold what with all the germs..."

"The park bench..." I prompted a bit impatiently.

Would the woman never get to the point?

"Right, and all the other children decided to give their mothers or caretakers flowers, wild flowers mostly, which of course I'm allergic to and will probably suffer for days..."

"The flowers..."

I was about to lose what little patience I possessed, futilely wishing she would just skip to the end. None of the other nannies had been forthcoming, just insisted on quitting, and I felt the need to figure out what exactly was happening.

"The flowers..." she repeated vaguely and then seemed to recall where she was "yes the children were all holding the flowers hidden in their grubby little hands, no doubt everyone of them needing a good scrubbing from all the bacteria hiding in the dirt...why I'm sure they were spreading E. coli or some sort of..."

"Please," I begged in exasperation, "get to the point. What about the flowers?"

"Oh yes...sorry...sometimes I tend to bird-walk a bit..."

"The flowers..." I prompted, maddened almost beyond endurance.

"Mr. Stover, I am trying to tell a story here," the woman had the nerve to reprimand me. "As I was saying, the children asked the women to close their eyes while they pressed the flowers into their hands as a surprise."

"That doesn't sound so bad," I commented, a bit disappointed that I had suffered through her torturous tale when the problem was simply her allergy to flowers.

"That's what I thought as I watched all the other children bestowing their gifts, so, I obediently closed my eyes and opened my hand..." she paused as if for dramatic effect.

"And...?" I wasn't sure how much longer I was going to be able to resist strangling the woman.

"Instead of a flower that...that...rotten little...girl..." I recognized the last minute substitution for what it was, the nanny realizing that she would get nowhere by using insulting names to a parent, and hoping for a week's pay in lieu of notice, "that horrid little monster closed a sticker burr into my hand!"

~ * * ~

"Find another nanny," Nat said dismissively, turning unconcernedly back to her vanity mirror.

"There are no more nannies," I replied scathingly. "Apparently your little angel has alienated every nanny in the city and all of the agencies refuse to work with us any longer."

"You're exaggerating," she responded flippantly.

"You think you can find one?" I asked raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"It can't be that hard," Nat said insultingly "you've been doing it for years...and not well I might add."

"I'm sure you will be much more efficient at it than I, so from now on it is your responsibility," I stated firmly. "You may offer them the same money we've paid the last...however many nannies we've had...and not a penny more."

"I'll find a nanny," Nat said primly, responding to the taunting just as I knew she would, "and I'll find a better one than you ever have."

"Great," I smiled ironically, "send them to me when you do and I'll arrange their pay."

"Fine, I will," she replied huffily.

"I look forward to it," I tossed over my shoulder as I left her.

~ * * ~

"So you're admitting defeat?" I asked in amusement.

"You did that on purpose," Nat pouted at me.

"I warned you there were no more nannies to be had, but you wouldn't listen to me," I shrugged. "As I see it you have two choices, send Laticia to boarding school or take care of her yourself."

"No!" she protested violently "I won't let you send her away."

"Then you're the new nanny," I announced indifferently. "Congratulations."

"Surely Mrs. Arnold..." she began pleadingly.

"Mrs. Arnold has her own work to do," I narrowed my eyes at her. "You are not to bother her. You take care of Laticia yourself or I will ship her off so fast your head will spin."

"You wouldn't really..."

"Try me."

Chapter 11

The Little Monster

"Take your hands off of my daughter!" Nat screeched.

"Then you need to teach that...thing...some manners," I replied between clenched teeth, releasing the small arm I was holding in distaste.

"How dare you! She is not a thing," she corrected furiously, "she is a child."

"Fine," I conceded, "Then teach that...child...some manners or I will."

"She's just a baby," Nat protested, putting herself between me and the culprit in question, wrapping her arms around the child protectively.

"Six years old is no longer a baby," I said coldly. "If you won't allow me to discipline her, then I suggest you do it...and soon. That vase is coming out of both of your allowances."

"But it was an accident."

"Not according to Mrs. Arnold."

"Laticia said she accidentally knocked it over. You're going to believe a servant over your own child?"

"Oh, so now she's my child?" I queried sarcastically.

"Of course she's your child," Nat replied fearfully. "Why would you even say that?"

"Because you are always telling me to leave your child alone."

"Richard," Nat began in a more conciliatory tone, "I just love her so much, she's our baby. You know she would never..."

"Oh stow it," I interrupted abruptly. "I know good and well that she destroys things anytime she doesn't get her own way. I heard her following Mrs. Arnold around asking for cookies. Mrs. Arnold said no so she threw the vase at her. The proof is sitting on the floor scattered in a hundred pieces at least five feet from its original resting place. I'm a criminal attorney, and I know how to read a crime scene."

"But..."

"You have no control over that child, but you will acquire some or off she goes to boarding school," I warned. "Now you two will clean up the mess..."

"She's too young," Nat protested. "She could cut herself."

"Fine," I agreed. "You can clean it up by yourself then because Mrs. Arnold has better things to do with her time."

As I turned to leave, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Laticia sticking her tongue out at me. Turning to face her, I raised an eyebrow.

"Is there something you wanted to say?" I asked with faked pleasantry.

She dropped her eyes and shook her head.

I nodded curtly and left them, shutting myself up in the study.

That child is the spawn of the devil, I thought darkly, fitting description considering who the parents are.

Allison had been wrong about me. I didn't feel any differently about my own child than I had about hers, unless it was even more distaste. I was not paternal in the least. Even Nat, as wicked as she was, had developed maternal feelings toward her offspring. There was something seriously wrong with me, not a fatherly bone in my body.

Determined to take my mind off my dysfunctional family, I opened my briefcase and took out some depositions. If nothing else, I owed Allison a lot just for helping me to see that I was born to be a lawyer, not a banker. Criminal law was my passion. I'd worked harder than anyone else once I gained acceptance into law school, and graduated top of my class, much to the chagrin of my father who had hoped I would come to my senses and join him in the banking industry after all, and the delight of my uncle who was the 'Williams' in the law firm of Tate, Williams, & Preston.

It hadn't taken me long to become well known as a criminal defense attorney, seldom losing a case, and the partners, well pleased with my work, had been more than happy to entrust me with higher profile cases. I had become quite a moneymaker for the firm and they, in turn, clearly expressed their gratitude by the added zeroes on my paycheck as well as generous bonuses.

Nat had no idea how much I was making, and I wasn't about to enlighten her, but it had been a good feeling the previous year to finally be able to tell our respective parents that they could stop supporting us.

If only my love life was in as good a shape, I thought ruefully.

I was going to have to break off my affair with Lorena, but I wasn't looking forward to it. She was the first woman I had allowed myself to become involved with instead of just having a fling.

Her divorce had left her bitter against men in general, and she had convinced me that she wanted nothing more than an affair with no strings attached in order to take her mind off of her ex-husband; the classic story of the husband running off with his young secretary, or in this case, personal assistant.

Lorena desperately needed to feel attractive again, which she was with her long, thick, full red hair and even longer legs, and I obliged. We had been together for over a month, which was some kind of record for me, but I had to admit I was bored and she was becoming possessive.

There was a new woman in the office who had been giving me signals for a couple of weeks, but I steadfastly ignored her. She was the office manager, and married with three kids and, although I had to own that she was beautiful in a classy, well-dressed way, I drew the line at having affairs with married women. I didn't need the possible complications.

Even though I was married, it was a marriage in name only, a marriage I had more or less been forced into, and I didn't feel as if I was cheating on Nat since we hadn't slept together but one time and that was before we were married. That, plus the fact that she and Phillip Tate, her brother-in-law, were once again having an affair behind Melissa's back, kept any guilt feelings I might have developed at bay.

I had returned to the office late one evening, having forgotten some important papers I needed to go over for a court case the next day, and hearing some unexplained noises coming from the conference room had opened the door to investigate.

Nat and Phillip never even knew I was there. I had calmly picked up my papers and headed home.

Until that time, I had to admit, I'd felt some twinges of guilt over my own infidelities, but that had been a freeing moment for me. I did experience, however, some anger on Melissa's behalf. She was quite a bit nicer than Nat and had been more or less forced into marrying Phillip. I was fairly certain she had no idea what was going on between them, and would have been shocked to say the least.

Divorce was not something the Tates would have tolerated, so Nat and Phillip had to keep their affair from his wife. I was pretty sure Melissa would have divorced him in a heartbeat if she had known about the affair he was having with her sister. That was an ace in the hole I would keep handy in case Nat got totally out of hand.

Phillip would be furious with Nat if he thought I had spilled the beans to Melissa because of Nat's misbehavior. He was as cold-hearted as his father was, and could be just as ruthless when it came to his reputation. I was sure Nat realized that and worked hard to stay on his good side.

As much as I hated confrontations with women, I knew what I had to do. Lorena was not going to be pleased, but she loved diamonds and I had purchased a very expensive tennis bracelet hoping that would help mitigate her...disappointment.

I sighed and reached for the phone.

Chapter 12

The Monster Grows Another Head

"Mrs. Murdock," I greeted the principal soberly, "I came as soon as I got the message."

"Thank you so much," I could see the relief on her face.

"What has Laticia done this time?"

"That's what I would like you to find out," she said as she pushed the door to her office open. "I can't get anyone to talk."

"Richard," Nat's eyes widened in shock as I entered the office. "What are you doing here?"

"I called him," Mrs. Murdock answered for me.

Laticia was sitting next to Nat, tearstains on her face. One look at her and I knew she was faking. The fear on her face when she spotted me, however, was all too real. Laticia knew she couldn't fool me, and also knew what form my punishment would take.

For years as I was growing up, I'd subconsciously utilized a skill I hadn't realized I possessed, and didn't fully understand, in order to manipulate people for my own selfish ends. Once I graduated from law school and began assisting on cases, it soon became clear that my talent was reading people. I could usually tell if someone was lying or hiding something, which helped me no end as a criminal defense attorney, and it had proven invaluable when dealing with Nat and Laticia.

The previous year, Laticia's first year of junior high, I made a believer of Mrs. Murdock by getting to the bottom of a disturbance Laticia had instigated. I knew she was lying, and by separating all of the students involved and, per Mrs. Murdock's request, gently extracting information from each of them, had pieced together exactly what happened.

Laticia was, of course, responsible and Mrs. Murdock had appreciated my objectivity in discovering the truth and then helping her to decide on disciplinary action.

"Mrs. Stover, I am going to ask you to wait in the teachers' lounge," Mrs. Murdock said gently.

"No," Nat quickly objected, panic-stricken, begging me with her eyes to leave her baby alone. "I'm her mother, you can't make me leave."

"I'm her father," I reminded her taking her arm and escorting her to the door.

Nat looked as if she wanted to protest, but thought better of it and nodded dully. I shut the door and turned to face Laticia.

"It will go easier on you if you tell me the truth to start with," I said mildly, perching myself on the edge of the principal's desk directly in front of her.

"I didn't do anything," she muttered in defiance, arms folded in front of her, refusing to look at me.

"And you wish to stick to that story," I asked, already knowing the answer.

I kept hoping I would see some sign of a redeeming quality in Laticia, but each time, it seemed I was doomed to disappointment.

There was no reply. I hadn't expected one.

"Mrs. Murdock may I talk to the other students involved?" I asked politely.

"Of course," she led me through a door off her office to a room that looked much like a conference room.

"Don't move from that chair until one of us returns," I warned Laticia as I followed Mrs. Murdock from the room.

Still no response, but I knew she would obey...however unwillingly.

"This is Bruce Smith and his parents Mr. and Mrs. Smith," I nodded to Mrs. Smith and shook hands with Bruce and Mr. Smith. "This is Laticia's father, Mr. Stover."

Mrs. Smith opened her mouth to protest, but Mrs. Murdock forestalled her.

"Mr. Stover is a reputable defense attorney who helped us resolve the last...situation...we had with Laticia. I can assure you he is fair and honest as well as being very objective."

Mrs. Smith's expression immediately changed to one of relief.

By the looks of it, Bruce had taken quite a beating. I felt like wringing Laticia's neck. I had no idea what had happened, but odds were good that Laticia was the direct cause, whether she had personally administered the blows or not.

"Over here," she moved past the Smiths to another family seated a few chairs down, "we have Calvin Thorne and his parents Mr. and Mrs. MacLean." At my questioning look, Mrs. Murdock added, "Mr. MacLean is Calvin's stepfather."

I smiled reassuringly at Mrs. MacLean while I shook hands with Calvin and Mr. MacLean. Calvin didn't look any better off than Bruce. Laticia was definitely at it again. Without even asking any questions, I knew she had been playing the two boys off against each other. She seemed to thrive on pitting boy against boy, relishing the fact that they were willing to fight over her.

Instinctively, I decided to interview both boys together instead of separating them as I had the last time. I was sure to get faster results that way, and since I already had an inkling of what had happened, my questions would be very much to the point.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to have both boys in the same room," I told Mrs. Murdock. "I think we can get to the bottom of this fairly quickly."

"I'm not leaving my boy alone in the same room with that..." Mr. Smith began.

"No one is leaving the room," I assured him calmly. "We are all going to sit down and try to relax while I ask the boys a couple of questions. Is that okay with you two?" I looked at Calvin and Bruce questioningly.

"Yes sir," they answered together.

"Okay, I'm going to sit here," I indicated a chair on one side of the table "and you two can sit across from me." I raised a hand to preempt any comments from the parents. "I want your word as gentlemen that there will be no violence, just talking...deal?"

"Yes sir," they said again.

I waved everyone into their chairs—the parents took seats behind the two boys while Mrs. Murdock sat at the end of the table over to my right—as I made myself comfortable, eyeing the boys thoughtfully.

"Which one of you is Laticia's boyfriend?" I asked casually.

"I am," they both answered then glared at each other.

"No he's not," they turned to me speaking in unison again then turned back to their adversary both saying, "Stop that!"

The men seated behind them rose from their chairs, but I shook my head and they returned to their seats.

"Bruce, what did Laticia tell you about Calvin?"

"She said he wouldn't leave her alone and that he hurt her," Bruce accused angrily. "She even showed me the bruises on her arms."

"I didn't, he did," Calvin protested furiously. "She said he tried to force her to...that he..."

"I didn't do anything to her," Bruce yelled, "you did."

I slammed my hand down on the table to get their attention. It worked.

"How long have you two known each other?" I demanded.

"Since kindergarten," Calvin admitted.

"Were you friends before this happened?"

"Yes sir," they answered together.

That made perfect sense. The fact that they were friends would have made her victory over them even sweeter, and the feeling of power it gave her would be motive enough.

"Did either one of you stop to think whether your friend would actually do something like that or were you just prepared to take the word of a pretty girl because she was paying attention to you?"

I realized I'd have to be rather harsh with them to teach them a lesson about conniving, lying females even though it filled me with distaste.

"No sir," they must have had a lot of practice answering in unison.

I almost smiled, but then I remembered why I was there and what Laticia had done, and I no longer felt like smiling.

"I want both of you to listen very carefully to what I am about to say to you," I said gravely. "Laticia played both of you; she lied to both of you."

"She wouldn't do that," Bruce denied vehemently. "She...she..."

"Would you rather believe that Calvin hurt her?" I asked bluntly.

"N...n...no," Bruce stammered.

"She's done this type of thing before," I directed their gaze to Mrs. Murdock for confirmation and she nodded reluctantly.

"Why is she being allowed to...?" Mrs. MacLean began.

"We thought she'd learned her lesson last time," Mrs. Murdock said apologetically. "She was severely disciplined, but..."

"You two need to apologize to each other and shake hands like men," I suggested. "You were both the victims of a cruel hoax."

"But the bruises..." Calvin still looked undecided.

"Mrs. Murdock, will you bring Laticia in?" I asked pleasantly.

She left the room and returned shortly with a subdued Laticia in tow.

"Show me the bruises, Laticia," I commanded adding "Now!" when she hesitated.

Reluctantly she rolled up her sleeves revealing purplish blue splotches on her upper arms and, after examining them closely, turned to Mrs. Murdock asking, "Do you have a tissue?"

Silently she left the room returning a few seconds later with the requested item, which she handed to me. I walked over to the water cooler and wet the tissue. The unnatural revulsion I felt about touching Laticia was more than I could overcome and I handed the damp tissue to her commanding, "Wipe".

She took one look at my set face and began wiping off the makeup she had used to fake the bruises.

"You can take her back to her mother," I tried to keep the contempt out of my voice, but I wasn't sure I succeeded from the curious look on Mrs. Murdock's face as she nodded in acquiescence.

"I'm very sorry for the trouble Laticia caused," I apologized briskly.

If I were the parents, I would want revenge, but I was hoping to get out of there before that thought crossed their minds.

"If I can be of any help in the future, please don't hesitate to call me," I handed each of the men my business card. "And you two, don't be so quick to toss a friendship away over a girl. True friends can be hard to find. Remember that, hmm?"

"Yes sir," they answered together once again.

I allowed myself a small smile.

Chapter 13

Ever Seen a Three-Headed Monster?

"Calm down, Natalie, and tell me what's wrong," Robert said resignedly into the receiver.

At my questioning look, he shrugged.

"The police station!" he exclaimed in surprise a second later. "Why in heaven's name is Laticia at the police station?" He listened for a few more moments then suggested, "Why don't you talk to Richard, he's right here."

I knew that wasn't going to go over well with Nat.

"But sweetie that is not my area of expertise," Robert reminded her. "Richard is the expert on criminal law."

He listened intently for a bit and then handed the phone over to me saying reassuringly into the receiver, "If anyone can help her, he can...here he is."

Because Robert was there, I didn't begin with 'What did she do now?' knowing how Laticia and Nat had managed to pull the wool over his eyes for years. To him, she was the angelic granddaughter who always had a hug and kiss for her grandpapa, and I wasn't about to disillusion him. Too bad he didn't realize she was only in it for the money he always coughed up for her birthdays and Christmas.

"What's the problem, Nat?" I asked, careful to keep my tone neutral.

"Laticia just called me from the police station," she began babbling. "It's all some kind of mistake, she was just with the wrong person at the wrong time, but they're going to charge her with being an...an..."

"Accessory?" I supplied.

"Yes, an accessory," she grasped at the word eagerly.

"An accessory to...?"

"I don't know his name," she broke in impatiently.

"I mean what crime did she commit?" I rolled my eyes at Robert.

"She didn't commit any crime," Nat said defensively. "That boy she was with took off with someone's sports car. She was just an innocent bystander."

"Of course she was," I replied ironically, in my mind substituting the made up word 'by-sitter', since she was most likely in the front passenger seat enjoying the view.

I didn't think Nat would find my observation humorous, so I kept it to myself.

"Which police station?" I asked, sighing heavily.

After I hung up with Nat, Robert and I let our secretaries know we would be out of the office for the rest of the afternoon, so they could reschedule all of our appointments, and headed to the police station. I told him I could handle it, but he insisted on tagging along.

We were silent during the drive to the station. Robert was a very restful person to be with, never forcing inane chatter on others, and he very seldom spoke, but when he did speak, it behooved people to listen.

When we arrived, I asked to see the police report before we did anything else—I certainly wasn't going to trust Laticia's version—then politely requested to speak with the arresting officer or officers. Robert listened to everything that was said, saying nothing, and I wondered briefly what he was thinking.

By the time we were through, it was clear to me that Laticia had been at the very least a willing participant and if her past history was anything to judge by, probably the instigator. Men were apparently putty in her hands.

I wondered what Robert thought of the whole thing, but was afraid to ask. I knew I was going to have to get Laticia off the hook, regardless of how much I yearned to see her finally take responsibility for her actions, because I couldn't let Robert's granddaughter go to prison, even for a short time.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked quietly as soon as the officers left, and we were alone in the interrogation room.

"Get her off," I shrugged.

"I suppose you don't have a choice," he agreed regretfully.

I looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not a fool, Richard, although on some counts I guess I could be considered one," he admitted. "Marrying Lillian was probably not the smartest thing I've ever done...arranged marriages..." he shook his head sadly. "Nevertheless, I do realize that Laticia is not the angel she pretends to be."

"Sorry, I didn't think..."

"That I knew what you were up against?" he asked wryly. "Believe me, I know. Melissa was the only decent female in the family and Lillian married her off to a jerk that cheats on her with her own sister."

"You know about that, too?" I asked incredulously.

"I would say that very little goes on that I don't know about," he replied with a ghost of a smile. "I often wish I didn't, but there you go."

"So what do you think I should do about Laticia?" I asked knowing what the answer would be.

"If you want any peace for the next twenty years of marriage, get her off with a slap on the wrist," he advised "and then punish her financially when you get her home. You seem to have a knack for that. I was never able to control Nat the way you have," he admitted in admiration. "I bow at the feet of the master."

"I think your adulation is unwarranted," I said grimly. "I have never been able to control Laticia, and I doubt that I ever will."

"Let's just hope you can marry her off to someone who can," Robert nodded sagely. "It worked for me."

"Yeah, have I ever thanked you for that?" I asked dryly.

"No need for thanks," he replied modestly. "It was truly my pleasure."

Chapter 14

Poor Sap Has No Idea What He's In For

"Richard, we are going to be late for dinner at the country club and that will make us late to the concert," Nat pounded on the door. "Hurry up."

I walked unhurriedly to the door. Even after all of our years of sham marriage, I still enjoyed irritating Nat; it was the only pleasure I ever got out of the disaster of our union.

"There you are," she said impatiently as I emerged from my bedroom. "You know how important tonight is...and straighten your tie...you should have worn the maroon one."

"Nat," I said shortly, "Shut up."

"You..." she began then, taking one look at my face, closed her mouth.

I'd had a rough day in court, one of my cases wasn't going well mostly because my wealthy client had apparently not been very forthcoming, and I was constantly being surprised by the prosecutor with information said client had failed to disclose, and I wasn't in any mood to listen to her nagging or idle prattle. I was also tired of defending people I knew were guilty but had no choice other than to defend them because they made the firm tons of money.

We arrived at the country club with ten minutes to spare. Laticia and her date hadn't shown up yet. I wasn't sure why Nat was so wired, but I knew something was up.

I hadn't seen her that wired since—something stirred in my memory—the night of Phillip's birthday party, the night I had allowed myself to...

Don't go there, I told myself sternly.

I had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was...odds were it boded ill for someone.

Against Nat's wishes, I insisted that we go ahead and be seated while we waited. Although I only drank occasionally, having learned my lesson the hard way, I needed a stiff drink after the day I'd experienced so I ordered a scotch, which earned a frown from Nat as she uncharacteristically ordered an iced tea.

"Are we being a teetotaler tonight?" I asked sarcastically.

"Laticia's date doesn't drink," Nat said primly, "and I don't think we should make him uncomfortable."

"Oh, right," I said facetiously, "you've taught Laticia to be all things to all men like you used to be. So, by all means, let's all pretend we don't drink."

"Behave," she hissed, "here they come."

Laticia was five minutes late—which wasn't like her at all having inherited her mother's obsession with punctuality—and she was angry about something. I felt sorry for her date...she was hard enough to stomach when she was in a good mood.

Oddly enough, her companion was a carbon copy of the guys Nat dated when we were in college, tall, blonde-haired, and blue-eyed. He reminded me a lot of Phillip. Maybe that was Nat's excitement, Laticia had found someone Nat whole-heartedly approved of and was hoping she would marry. I perked up, interested in unloading Laticia as soon as possible. She was twenty. That was old enough.

"Mom, Dad this is Mark W..." she stopped abruptly looking to her mother as if for help.

"How nice to meet you Mark," Nat was dripping in sweetness, hanging on his arm adding, "Laticia has told us so much about you" which was news to me, I hadn't even known his name.

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Stover," Mark said politely and then shaking my hand "Mr. Stover."

"Mark," I acknowledged.

"Come sit next to me," Nat said invitingly. "I want to hear all about you."

Mark was obviously the gentleman I wasn't, first reseating Nat and then Laticia. Nat was positively glowing. I hoped she wouldn't ruin things for Laticia by seducing Laticia's date—that would be just like her—because I desperately wanted to be rid of Laticia and Mark looked like he might be able to handle her.

I downed the rest of my scotch and thought about ordering another just to spite Nat, but I didn't really want one, so I declined when the waiter offered a refill. Nat and Laticia studied the menu, deciding what they wanted to order, but I already knew. I always ate the same thing, had for more years than I cared to count, and the waiters never bothered to ask me any longer.

After Nat and Laticia had ordered, Mark turned to me and said politely, "You go ahead, sir, I'm still trying to decide."

Nat laughed derisively and said, "Richard doesn't order; everyone who works here for any length of time already knows what he wants. You really should try to pull yourself out of your boring rut, Richard," she finished acidly.

"But that would mean having to divorce you, my sweet, and we all know that is frowned upon in our circle," I pretended to joke.

"It must be good if you always get the same thing," Mark commented, "Laticia said you come here a lot."

"It is and I do," I assured him. "I always get a rib-eye, medium well, cooked to perfection with a fully loaded baked potato for good measure."

"I'll have what he's having," Mark pointed to me and smiled at the waiter as he handed him the menu.

"So Mark," I began amicably as soon as the waiter departed, "do you have a job?"

"Richard," Nat admonished "Don't be rude."

"Not at all, Mrs. Stover," Mark grinned mischievously, "It's a reasonable question for a father to ask. Actually I have a job delivering furniture."

"Mark, don't be so modest," Laticia's voice had an edge to it and I could see she was irritated, though trying to hide it. "Mark is graduating from UT with an architectural degree this spring. He's planning to get his masters, but I've been trying to convince him that he would make a good lawyer, like you Daddy."

Something was definitely up with Nat and Laticia. Laticia never used that fake sweet little girl voice unless she was scheming, and she never called me 'daddy'...a lot of other names, all uncomplimentary, but never 'daddy'. I was getting the distinct feeling that Mark was in for it.

"Are you interested in being a lawyer," I asked eyeing him carefully.

He hadn't struck me as the fortune hunter type, but maybe he was just a good actor.

"Not really," Mark admitted. "I was hoping to get an entry level job at an architectural firm here in Austin and work on my masters."

"You enjoy architecture?"

"I love it," he enthused. "I used to draw on anything I could find whenever an idea struck me. I have a whole collection of scrap papers and even restaurant napkins with my designs on them."

"A bit of advice," I said behind my hand in a stage whisper, "around here they frown on people drawing on their cloth napkins and then absconding with them. Of course, I am a fairly decent criminal defense attorney so I could probably get you off with just a warning, a mere slap on the wrist. Don't you think, Laticia?"

I raised my eyebrows inquiringly at her. The answering glare was all I could have wished for...she was livid.

I'm beginning to like this Mark character, I decided in astonishment and, as much as I wanted to unload Laticia, I hated to do so at the expense of someone who seemed decent.

"I'll keep that in mind," Mark winked at me "and thanks for the warning. I guess it would be out of the question for you to create a diversion while I made my get-away."

"That would be rather unethical," I agreed, "but if I decide I like you, I might be convinced to become an accessory."

My veiled references to Laticia's narrow escape from jail time a couple of years previously were wearing on her.

"So, Daddy, Mark actually likes classical music," Laticia interrupted, careful to modulate her tone in front of Mark.

"Hmm...and here I was thinking that we were actually hitting it off," I responded lugubriously.

"You dislike classical music?" Mark asked with interest. "Then why...?"

"Once you marry, you do a lot of things in order to maintain peace and harmony in the family," I answered a tad bitterly. "Ah, our salads have arrived," I said placidly. "I worked through lunch today, so you'll have to excuse me from the conversation...Bon appétit!"

We ate our salads in silence. I relaxed for the first time all day, totally ignoring the glares I received from Nat and Laticia, determined not to allow them to ruin my meal. The rest of our food arrived shortly afterwards.

Nat and Laticia took control of the conversation while Mark and I enjoyed our steaks. I tired of their inane chatter quickly, and our 'family time' never turned out well. I let their voices float over me, ignoring them as I generally did whenever we were all together, which admittedly wasn't often, with complete disregard for how it would appear to Mark, figuring he might as well see the situation for what it was before rather than after he made a commitment to the she-devil he was dating.

We left the country club in plenty of time for the concert. I always felt a pang whenever we attended a ballet, opera, or concert remembering the times Allison had drug me along with her. She loved classical music, although she had never been a big fan of opera or ballet, and had insisted on going to every concert in town. I always purchased the tickets and escorted her, not wanting anyone else to have the privilege, until that fateful night when she and Wilson met.

I shied away from the memory of that evening, still cringing at times from the pain it caused me. For some reason, I felt morbid and introspective, more so than usual, and I didn't like it.

The concert was boring, as always, but I managed to keep from fidgeting by reviewing my caseload at work. The only remotely interesting case was the one not going well...the remainder of them were all basically dull routine. I needed a challenge.

Robert and I had discussed my doing some pro bono work, and I was seriously considering it. Being a partner, I had a little more decision-making freedom than when I'd just started out in the firm.

Some of the others wouldn't like it, but Lowell Tate who would have been the biggest obstacle, remaining an active part of the firm in spite of his becoming a State Supreme Court Justice, had recently died and left the firm with no definitive leader.

Phillip tried to control things but, while he had inherited Lowell's unethical immorality, he lacked Lowell's instinctive leadership ability.

The firm was too old school, firmly refusing to allow women lawyers—although that was never the reason given—and we needed a boost in the public opinion polls.

A little pro bono work would not come amiss, and it would definitely be more of a challenge for my skills. The thought appealed.

I'll talk to Robert about it tomorrow, I decided firmly as the house lights went up.

Chapter 15

Blast from the Past

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Stover, but there's a woman on the phone who insists on talking to you."

Martha was the epitome of the perfect secretary...discreet, loyal, and the height of efficiency. Very seldom had I seen her feathers ruffled, but the frown on her face was the equivalent of anyone else's wringing of the hands.

"She's called repeatedly and now she refuses to hang up. She won't even give me her name. I told her you were in meetings all morning, but..."

"Do you know what the call is in reference to?" I asked running cases through my mind, searching for a clue as to why an irate woman would be calling me.

"She said it was...personal," Martha said hesitantly.

"Just give me a few minutes to finish up here, and I'll get back to my office as quickly as I can," I smiled encouragingly at her and the frown disappeared.

"Thank you," she replied gratefully, "she's on line three."

Returning to the table, I assured my young client and his parents that all was well as I gathered up the few papers that were scattered in front of me, and slid them in my briefcase.

"I think I have everything I need for now. We will be in touch with you shortly. If anyone wants to question you further, ask for your lawyer immediately, and don't answer any questions until I or one of my associates arrive. Are we clear?"

The young man nodded. I shook his hand, smiling benevolently, and took my leave.

Absently making my way back to my office, I wondered what woman would be calling me.

The affair with Millie had been over for months, since before Christmas, and I knew she was currently seeing someone else. I hadn't had the time, inclination, or energy to become involved with anyone since then, my pro bono work taking up most of my spare moments since I began in January.

Setting my briefcase on my desk, I sat down and stared at the phone for a few minutes, still puzzling over the mysterious caller.

I had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I didn't think it had anything to do with skipping lunch. Picking up the phone with great trepidation, I punched the button for line three.

"Stover," I barked into the phone, tension causing my voice to sound harsher than I intended.

"Richard?" a female voice ventured hesitantly.

"Yes," I replied shortly "Who is this?"

"Allison Wilson...or Tate when we knew each other," she hastened to add.

"Allison?" to say I was blown away was an understatement.

Images flashed quickly through my mind; Allison smiling, frowning, laughing, her wedding, the kiss, our final goodbye...and Wilson...

Don't forget she's married, I told myself roughly.

"You remember me," she breathed in relief.

"Remember you?" I repeated incredulously.

Not a day goes by I don't think of you, I added silently.

"Of course I remember you. You should have given my secretary your name right away."

"She said you were in meetings all morning," Allison said apologetically. "I didn't want to bother you, but I couldn't wait any longer."

"What's wrong?" I asked suddenly anxious. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she reassured me. "I need to see you and I didn't want to come to the office."

"And risk running into Phillip?"

"Or my father," she tacked on.

"Your father...you don't know."

I frowned, berating myself for my stupidity. Of course, she couldn't know.

"Don't know what?" she asked reluctantly.

"Your father died last year," I answered soberly. "He had a massive stroke."

There was silence on the other end, then Allison asked, "And my mother?"

"She's not well."

I didn't want to get into it on the phone, but I knew Allison well enough to know she wasn't going to let me stall.

"Your brother and sister had her put into a home."

"What's wrong with her?" she asked in alarm.

"She's not quite right in the head," I answered evasively.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, you said you need to see me, and I would rather not go into details over the phone," I hedged. "Where are you? Maybe we could meet."

"Actually I'm planning to be in Austin tomorrow, and was hoping to see you and Nat."

A thought suddenly occurred to me.

"Nat and I are married," I said heavily.

"Yes, I know," she replied in an odd tone. "I would rather meet in private with you both, not in a public place...your house, perhaps?"

"Of course," I agreed readily, anxious to see her. "I'll give you directions. Do you have a pen?"

"I know where your house is, Richard."

I was usually good at reading voices, but I couldn't figure hers out.

"I'll be there at ten in the morning," she continued briskly. "I have to go."

"Allison..." I was talking to the dial tone.

My heart was suddenly pounding so hard it felt like it wanted to leave my chest.

Allison, coming here, after all these years, I exulted.

She had been so much on my mind lately...it seemed like fate.

Don't forget Wilson, I reminded myself.

But she didn't mention Wilson, I rebutted.

That doesn't mean anything. He'll probably be there tomorrow ready to punch your lights out for something.

I could tell from her voice that she was distressed, and for some reason she needed to talk to me about it. I was a defense attorney, maybe one of her kids was in some kind of trouble with the law. She could have a whole house full of kids, although the only one I knew about was the one born right before she left Austin. Was it a boy or girl? I couldn't remember.

Babies seemed pretty much the same to me, all gray and wrinkly with slight variations, like small weird-looking aliens. I remembered telling her the baby looked like ET, and I laughingly recalled how offended she had been. Knowing me so well, it was a wonder she had expected me to react any differently.

Laticia had reminded me more of Yoda than ET with her ears sticking out and slightly pointed, so Nat had begun plastic surgery on Laticia at an early age, determined that she would be perfect. Between the two of them, I doubted that they had more than 50% of their original equipment.

It was a good thing that Phillip's sister had married a plastic surgeon and counted Nat as family. Without a discount, there was no way Nat and Laticia could have afforded so much plastic surgery on the allowance I gave them.

The buzz of the intercom interrupted my thoughts.

"Mr. Stover, your four o'clock has arrived," Martha's voice was as impersonal as ever; giving no indication of the curiosity that must be gnawing at her.

"Send them in," I replied in clipped tones.

I was in no mood for any more appointments, but I knew that postponing anything until the next week was impossible. Martha had informed me that every minute of my time was already taken up with court cases and appointments.

Usually, I relished the challenge, but all I could think about was Allison and her imminent visit.

I stood up and walked to the door, ready to greet...suddenly I couldn't remember who I was greeting, an unusual circumstance for me. I would have to pull myself together and get my head in the game. I had a well-earned reputation to protect and I couldn't afford to blow it daydreaming about what would never be.

For the first time in my life, I cursed Allison and her ability to rattle me. I had managed to pick up all the pieces after losing her, making an acceptable life out of the rubble she had left, and I didn't want a repeat. I needed to steel myself against her. I wouldn't allow her to get under my skin again.

No matter what I told myself, I knew the truth; I would fall at her feet if she gave me any indication that we had a chance of being together.

The door opened and I forced the usual polite smile to my face as I ushered the older couple into my office.

At least shove her to the backburner for now, I told myself fiercely. You have work to do.

Chapter 16

The Angel and the Demon

I was in my study by eight the next morning, not having slept much all night. The few times I dozed, my dreams were haunted by visions of Allison, which promptly turned into a nightmare as Allison's features would blur, Nat's would take her place, and I'd wake up in a cold sweat.

Although I wasn't sure what tenterhooks were, and I had never been on pins and needles before, I was sure whichever of those was the most uncomfortable, that described me. As I paced back and forth, all but wearing a hole in the floor of the study, I realized that Allison wasn't due to arrive for another two hours, and I doubted my heart was going to be able to take the strain.

Nat didn't know who was coming—I thought it prudent to keep her in the dark, unsure what type of reception she would plan for Allison since the last time they were together Allison had basically dumped her—she only knew someone important was dropping by to see us. Nat and Laticia had scheduled hair appointments that morning in an attempt to cheer Laticia up after her latest boyfriend Mark had apparently, after many months, wised up and kicked her to the curb and they wouldn't be back until eleven. I told Nat that would be fine, elated that I would have an hour alone with Allison before Nat returned to sour the atmosphere.

The hands on the clock had never moved so slowly. I tried to concentrate on paperwork, but failed miserably. At nine, Mrs. Arnold knocked on the door to ask if I needed anything and to inform me that she would have tea ready to serve at ten o'clock. I thanked her with an absentminded smile, only partially paying attention.

The doorbell rang at 9:50 and, even though I had been expecting it, I jumped as if stung. My heart, which hadn't slowed down since the phone call from Allison the day before, sped up even more. I tried to gulp down a couple of calming breaths as Mrs. Arnold answered the doorbell, but finally gave up and headed to the study door, anxious to see the love of my life.

I heard Allison introducing herself to Mrs. Arnold—so classically Allison and something Nat would have taunted her about—and Mrs. Arnold's surprised but pleased response. No one had ever been able to resist Allison's charm—except for Becky all those years ago, but that was a different story—and it seemed she hadn't changed.

As Mrs. Arnold moved out of the way, allowing Allison to enter, I glimpsed the face I loved for the first time in over twenty years. I dimly heard Mrs. Arnold asking if she should bring in the tea, but I waved her away. I was like a man dying of thirst, finally finding water. I drank in every bit of her with my eyes. She was, if possible, even lovelier than I remembered. Her face lit up with a smile as she held her hands out to me.

"Richard," I could hear the tears in her voice.

"Allison," my voice was barely a whisper.

The next thing I knew I had her in my arms, holding her as if I would never let her go. Nothing else mattered. Time had no meaning. We were together again, and it was as if the years had dissipated.

Eventually, I could feel her attempt to move back and I released her, calling on all of my powers of self-control...my whole body shouting at me to refuse, to keep her in my arms where she belonged.

"I don't believe you've aged at all," Allison said in amazement. "How did you manage that?"

"Clean living," I replied facetiously.

Allison's laugh was wonderful to hear again.

"Same old Richard," she teased.

"You are as beautiful as ever," I mentioned with a casualness I was far from feeling. "Marriage to Wilson certainly agrees with you."

Allison's smile faltered and I could see I had made a serious error.

"What's wrong, Allison?" I asked, concern furrowing my brow.

"Dad died last year," a voice sounded from beside me.

I hadn't noticed anyone with Allison; I had been too wrapped up in seeing her.

I glanced towards the source of the voice and asked in astonishment "Mark? What are you doing here?"

"Mark is my son, Richard," Allison said dully.

"Your son...?" to say I was stunned would have been putting it mildly.

"As if you didn't know," Mark added sarcastically looking as if he wanted to break my neck.

Vaguely recalling something Nat or Laticia had mentioned about his being a black belt, I decided he probably could.

"I had no idea...how...when...?" I stuttered uncharacteristically.

"Mark," Allison laid a hand on his arm, "I think he's telling the truth, he didn't know who you were."

"I swear I didn't," I looked at Mark in amazement. "I remember thinking how much you reminded me of Phillip, but...this is incredible. I don't recall Laticia giving me your last name, although I probably wouldn't have made the connection even if she had. Is he the baby that I...?"

"Yes," Allison gave me a crooked smile, "this is ET."

"ET...?" Mark asked puzzled.

"Later," she told him. "Right now I think it's important that we explain to Richard why we're here. He obviously has no clue...Where's Nat?"

"She and Laticia are getting their hair done," I responded dazedly. "They ought to be back around eleven."

"So you really didn't know who I was?" Mark asked skeptically.

"If I had I would have asked about your parents," I assured him. "I haven't seen or heard from them since you were born. I couldn't even remember whether you were a boy or girl," I admitted sheepishly.

"That's the Richard I know and love," Allison said gently. "I knew you couldn't be any part of this."

"Any part of what," I asked fatalistically.

"Maybe you should sit down," Mark suggested.

"Oh, sorry, come on in," I apologized quickly. "We can talk in my study."

After seating them, I asked rather impatiently, "What is this all about?"

"You obviously had no clue that Mark was my son, but Nat and Laticia did," Allison said firmly.

I didn't even know what to say.

Nat and Laticia tried to keep things from me all the time, that was nothing new, but there had to be a reason they had deliberately not told me about Mark, something they were doing that I would have put a stop to if I had discovered it.

"I'm sorry about this Richard," Allison said contritely. "I don't want to hurt you, but I don't think Laticia is a very nice person."

I laughed, I couldn't help it. Actually, it was more of a snort at what was obviously the understatement of the year.

Allison and Mark were both watching me cautiously, wondering at my sanity no doubt.

"It's alright," I assured them, attempting to restore my normal calm. "I'm sorry, I...it's...let me just say that you are being extremely generous about Laticia."

"You know?" Allison exclaimed in surprise.

"I would be hard put not to," I said grimly. "I've spent more time and energy trying to straighten her out than I care to admit. Nat is the devil and Laticia is the devil's spawn."

"But you married her," Allison pointed out in confusion.

"Yeah, don't remind me," I grimaced. "I want to hear your story first. What were they planning, and how was Mark involved?"

"Laticia was basically trying to tear Mark away from us," Allison said bluntly.

"And thanks to me, it was working," Mark said in self-disgust. "I allowed her to pull me away from my family the whole time we were seeing each other. She deleted my voice mails and basically lied about everything. I thought she was the perfect woman. I can't believe I let her lead me on like that."

"All things to all men," I murmured.

"That's the same thing you used to say about Nat," Allison said wonderingly.

"That apple didn't even fall from the tree," I said in disgust "It's still firmly attached...but why Mark?" I asked still puzzled. "It couldn't have been a coincidence that she picked your son."

"It wasn't," Mark acknowledged. "She mentioned to you at the country club the night we met that she wanted me to go to law school. Laticia finally admitted to me the night I dumped her that I was the only male Tate left to carry on the tradition in the law firm—my aunt and uncle had only girls and apparently their grandchildren are all female also—and they were determined to convince me to join by whatever means necessary. I didn't even know I had an aunt and uncle."

"That was my fault," Allison admitted in embarrassment. "I thought I could protect them from my side of the family best by keeping them in the dark. I was wrong."

"You never told them about any of us."

I tried to not let the hurt show, but I knew Allison wasn't fooled.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"It wasn't Wilson's idea?" I asked cynically.

"NO!" she denied vehemently. "That was all me."

"He never could deny you anything," I muttered. "Wait" I turned to Mark "did you say that your father died last year," I asked finally registering what Mark had said earlier.

I had been so surprised to see him there with Allison, I hadn't paid attention to what he had actually said.

"James died last July," Allison said tearfully.

I was ashamed at the way my heart jumped at her statement.

"You know I never wished him ill," I was asking her forgiveness for my involuntary reaction to her words even though she couldn't have noticed it. "I only ever wanted you to be happy."

"I know that," Allison dabbed at her eyes with a tissue she had pulled out of her purse. "James liked you despite everything."

"I'm glad," I smiled, relieved. "He was a good man."

"Well, well, well," Nat said sarcastically from the doorway of my study. "Look what the cat dug up and the dog wouldn't eat."

"Hello Nat," Allison said with forced calm as she rose and turned to face her. "Long time no see."

"You...!" Laticia exclaimed pointing at Mark accusingly. "How dare you show your face here?"

"Laticia," Mark acknowledged shortly.

"I've been hearing some very interesting stories," I put in mildly.

I immediately had the complete attention of Nat and Laticia, both of them watching me fearfully as they realized I knew what they had been up to and exactly what the tone in my voice meant for them.

Money would be in short supply...indefinitely. Needless to say, they were not going to be very happy with me. I couldn't have cared less.

"Are you going to believe them over your own family?" Nat asked with false bravado.

"I'm nothing if not fair," I observed calmly. "You're welcome to give me your side of the story."

"What did they tell you?" Laticia demanded.

"I suspect, the truth," I replied pleasantly. "Let's see how your stories match up, shall we?"

"Give it up, Laticia," Nat said dully. "It's over. He'd never doubt anything his precious Allison told him."

With a "Humph" Laticia flounced out of the room.

"Why Nat?" the anguish in Allison's voice was unmistakable.

"Mark is the last male Tate," she shrugged.

"But why hide what you were doing, why try to take Mark away from me? Why didn't you just come to me?"

"Because I wanted to hurt you," Nat turned on her viciously, "Like you hurt me."

"That was so long ago..." Allison began.

"You threw me out like yesterday's garbage," she accused. "We'd known each other our whole lives, and you dismissed it like it was nothing."

"It wasn't easy for me either Nat," Allison protested "but I couldn't trust you anymore. I'm not sure I ever really could. At times it was almost like...like you hated me."

"Why would I hate you?" Nat asked waspishly. "You were little Miss Perfect. Everyone loved Allison. Prom Queen, Homecoming Queen, and James Wilson everything I wanted, you always got. The only reason I hung around with you was because I wanted your brother."

Nat couldn't have helped but notice the shocked look on Allison's face and must have realized that she had gone too far, but couldn't seem to stop. I moved over to Allison and put my arms around her.

"Oh yeah, and my husband, you always had him, too, even though you didn't want him," she said acidly. "Well I don't care because I have Phillip. That's right, Miss Goody Two-Shoes, I have been sleeping with your brother for years. I told him about your engagement to the housekeeper's son just so I could get close enough to him to seduce him, and it worked like a charm. He wanted me...he still wants me. I even had his baby."

"What did you say?" I asked ominously.

"You are such an idiot, Richard," Nat sneered. "You had the answer in front of you the whole time, even told me it was probably Phillip's baby, but Phillip wanted me to abort her, as if I could destroy part of him growing inside of me, so I had to get some poor sap to marry me. You fit the bill beautifully. Being in love with Allison gave you a conscience, stupid fool that you are, and I played on that."

I released Allison and grabbed Nat by the arms in desperation.

"Laticia is not mine?" I asked urgently.

"You're hurting me," Nat whined.

"I'll do more than that if you don't answer my question," I warned, practically shaking her.

"As if I would have any child of yours," she replied scornfully.

"Laticia is Phillip's..." I released her then, in a daze, realizing that I was free, free of Nat, free of Laticia, free to...

I turned to Allison and gently took her cold hands in my warm ones. "I'm sorry about Wilson, more than you can know, but if there is any chance for us to be together all you have to do is say the word and I'm yours."

"Richard," I didn't know if Allison could stand many more shocks, but I wasn't going to wait like I had the last time only to lose her to someone else "you still..."

"I've never stopped loving you," I told her fiercely. "I only married Nat because I thought the baby she was carrying was mine."

"I never knew you and Nat..." she began.

"Only one time," I said in disgust. "I was tipsy and lonely and she seduced me. I know it's no excuse, but I haven't touched her since then."

"Your marriage...?"

"In name only," I assured her "a complete and total sham."

I ignored the sound of disgust and frustration that escaped from Nat's lips as she left us.

"You're married," Allison reminded me gently.

"Not for long," I said grimly. "I have the leverage I need now to force Nat to divorce me and leave most of my money intact. Nat and Laticia have pulled a lot of stunts over the years, but this is the last straw. Now that I know Laticia is Phillip's child, I refuse to have anything more to do with them."

"I'm so sorry, Richard," Allison tears streamed freely down her face.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I pulled her into my arms and let her use my shirt to dry her tears. "The only good I've ever had in my life came from knowing you. I made my own mess and I'm going to do some major removal...starting now. I don't want to lose you again."

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready for anything more than friendship," she warned.

"I'll take it," I grinned. "I'm used to that from you."

Allison laughed slightly.

"I guess you are," she admitted pulling away from me. "You said something on the phone about my mother being in a home..."

"Would you settle for part of the story?" I asked hopefully.

"No," she shook her head firmly.

"I didn't think so," I grimaced. "You aren't going to like it and you're going to feel as guilty as hell...well, you're going to feel guilty," I amended out of habit.

Allison had always disliked my using what she referred to as 'foul language'.

"Please tell me," Allison begged. "I might as well get everything out into the open in one day rather than stringing out all of the shocks over a period of time."

"There's merit in that," I acknowledged indicating that she should sit and seating myself beside her. "Your mother was never the same after you left. She seemed to lose interest in life. Lowell tried to snap her out of it and then, when she got so bad that she became disoriented not even knowing what year it was and kept asking for you over and over, he hired someone to take care of her at the house. When he died last year, Phillip and Brittany used it as an excuse to put her in a home and get her declared incompetent. They split up everything, but I made sure they put your third in a trust for you. Phillip and I never cared much for each other, but that was the icing on the cake. I can safely say he hates my guts. I suspect that he continues his affair with Nat thinking he is hurting me. He has no idea that as far as I'm concerned, he's welcome to her."

"Richard you shouldn't have antagonized Phillip like that," Allison said reproachfully. "You know I don't care about the money, and you have to work with him."

"Don't worry about me," I grinned. "I live to antagonize. Besides, I'm a partner now, so Phillip can't touch me."

"I heard that," Allison said smiling. "I knew you would make a great lawyer."

"You were my inspiration," I said dramatically sweeping a fake hat from my head and bending slightly at the waist in a bow, pulling a soft laugh from her.

"Could you tell me where my mother is," Allison asked.

"I will do you one better," I said firmly, "I usually visit her on Sundays, but she won't know the difference so I'll take you to her now. She will be thrilled to see us together. Best I can tell, she is reliving the years we were in high school. Those seem to be her favorites."

"You visit her?" tears were threatening again.

"I like reliving those years with her," I said simply. "They were my favorites, too."

Chapter 17

My Allison Fix

The following months were busy, but happy ones for me. Allison came to town every weekend to visit her mother and we always went to see her together. We would spend Saturday and Sunday afternoon with her, and even managed to convince her to leave her room and interact with the other people in the home.

Her mother was thrilled to see us and seemed to make some progress. I sensed that, at times, she was on the brink of a breakthrough, but she always regressed when she got to that point. I suspected that she knew, whether consciously or subconsciously, that reality would be too painful for her and refused to go any further than she could emotionally handle.

I learned a lot about Allison's life. She seemed to need to talk and I was an avid audience. I had missed out on so much, I wanted to know everything.

Uncharacteristically, I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness over the baby boy she had named after me and lost. Very much in character, however, was the thought of how it must have irked Wilson, although, to be fair, I was sure he had been more charitable about it than I would have in his position.

I could see the changes life had made in her eyes. She was the same Allison I used to know, but not the same. I guessed she probably thought the same thing about me. I hoped so. I wanted to be a better person than the one she had known before.

Elsee Wilson's death wasn't as painful for her to talk about since it had been many years, but she still couldn't talk much about Wilson. That was too fresh. She did tell me enough for me to realize how they had all suffered his last couple of years.

When I noticed the yellowed concert ticket stub she kept in a special place in her wallet one day when she was showing me pictures of her children, she admitted it was from the concert where she and Wilson had met. She'd put the other ticket in his suit coat pocket next to where his heart had been and buried it with him. I hadn't cried since I was a small boy, if I had even cried then...I couldn't remember, but I nearly shed tears picturing Allison leaning over the body of her beloved husband putting a concert ticket stub in his pocket, forever a connection between the two.

Allison talked a lot about her daughter CeeCee who was named after her grandmother, although Allison had wisely given her a nickname so she wouldn't be teased about her name.

I was deeply embarrassed, remembering the night of the concert when I had joined Nat in making fun of the Wilsons, one of the many things in my life I regretted, the list was extensive, and was grateful to Allison for not bringing it up.

Marrying Nat was at the very top of that list of regrets but, thankfully, I had another chance at life. Because of Nat's thoughtless barbs uttered in anger on the spur of the moment, I had plenty of ammunition to use on her.

In order to ensure my silence about the parentage of Laticia and her ongoing affair with Phillip, Nat agreed to divorce me and take whatever money I deemed appropriate. I even offered to settle an amount on Laticia to keep up the pretense that she was my daughter as long as both of them signed papers relinquishing any rights they had against my estate.

Both were more than willing to cooperate. No one wanted a scandal and Nat knew me well enough to realize I never made empty threats.

I decided to keep the house and offered to buy Nat a small one in a ritzy part of Austin as part of our divorce agreement because I knew she had never liked living 'out in the boonies' in her words, instead of in Austin. Nat was a city girl through and through and had been unhappy with the whole situation from the start. I personally liked the country feel...still a neighborhood but with each house sitting on at least two acres.

The Arnolds were pleased with the new arrangement. Nat had been a thorn in their sides as much, if not more so, than in mine for at least twenty years.

My pro bono work was going well, and I'd developed a sense of satisfaction that had been absent before. I had plenty of money, so I began spending more time on the pro bono cases than on paying clients. Since I was a partner, I decided to start using junior associates for all the grunt work I used to relish doing, freeing up quite a bit of my time.

Being with Allison so much, made me want to become a better man. If I had allowed it to, her presence would have made more of an impression on me when we were young, but I hadn't wanted to change, fool that I was.

Allison only missed a couple of weekends during the spring. She stayed home to play chaperone at CeeCee's prom—even though CeeCee refused to go claiming, she was too worn out to even consider it—and then CeeCee's graduation. CeeCee tried to get out of that one, also, but Allison wouldn't allow it.

I hadn't met CeeCee, she never came with Allison, but from what I could tell from Allison's comments, she was a lot like her father, but with her mother's temper. I chuckled as I thought about that killer combination.

I laughed aloud at the story Allison told me about CeeCee breaking the nose of a boy who tried to get 'fresh' with her. Apparently, the boy and his friends lied and blamed CeeCee for the whole fiasco and when the boy's parents threatened to sue, CeeCee faced the boy down in the cafeteria and informed him that her legal advisor had suggested that she demand polygraphs for all of them to see who was telling the truth.

The kicker was that her legal advisor was simply something she had read in a book. What I wouldn't have given to be a fly on the wall for that confrontation. I certainly looked forward to meeting her.

CeeCee had apparently been hospitalized in March for dehydration and malnutrition, so upset over the possibility of losing Mark to Laticia that her depression had prevented her from being able to eat and drink. I determined then and there to apologize profusely to her when we finally did meet, and sincerely hoped she could find it in her heart to forgive me for not realizing what was going on and putting a stop to it.

Mark was mostly James minus the intensity in personality, but his looks were all Allison. The more I thought about it the more sense it all made. After meeting Mark, Allison had been on my mind more frequently than she had in a long time. My subconscious must have picked up on what my conscious mind had overlooked...the striking similarities between them.

I was relieved Mark had escaped Laticia's clutches. He was too good of a person for me to wish that on him. Mark and I had hit it off the first time we met which had made the following months hard to understand until Allison's visit. Laticia and Nat had scrupulously kept me from meeting with Mark again. They hadn't expected us to get along so well and it had been too early in their game plan to risk me finding out who he was. It would have spoiled everything.

Allison invited me to Mark's graduation, again CeeCee pleaded tiredness from her recent illness and didn't make the trip, and I was happy she wanted me to be a part of what was so obviously a family thing.

I met some friends of hers, the Barretts, who ironically lived only a few miles from my house, at the graduation ceremony, since Allison always stayed with them when she was in for the weekend. Daniel Barrett had apparently been a year ahead of Laticia in high school and had introduced Laticia and Mark. Not having any animals, I'd never had any reason to use a vet, so I hadn't met Dr. Barrett before, although I'd heard of him.

Allison confided in me that Nick Barrett was in love with CeeCee but she had put her foot down and forced Nick into waiting until CeeCee's graduation in order to tell her. I didn't agree with her decision, but wisely refrained from making my opinion known. Allison had lost so much, I couldn't blame her for wanting to keep CeeCee to herself as long as she could, but I liked Nick immensely and hoped his having to wait wouldn't ruin his chances with CeeCee.

On one of her weekend visits, while we were driving into town to see Violet, Allison abruptly asked if she could hire me. I laughed, assuming she was joking.

"And what heinous crime have you committed lately," I asked teasingly.

"I want to hire you to find someone for me," she replied a bit reluctantly.

"You're serious," I said in amazement. At her nod, I added, "I'm not an investigator, Allison...I'm a criminal defense attorney."

"I realize that, but I was hoping you might know how to go about it, you know, like who to hire and how much to pay, that kind of thing," she said pleadingly. "I don't know what to do and this is very important to me."

"I do know some reputable private investigators," I acknowledged, "but I will only agree to this on the condition that you allow me to help you as a friend. I won't take your money, Allison."

"I feel guilty..."

"Guilt feelings aren't allowed here," I interrupted her gently. "Those are my terms, take it or leave it."

"Now why does that sound so familiar," she asked reminiscently.

"If you're going to bring that up I might have to renege," I warned.

"Alright, alright," she conceded, "you win."

"I usually do," I replied smugly. "I am curious about Wilson's reaction when you told him about the kiss, though. I'll understand if it's too hard to talk about," I hastened to add.

"It didn't come up until after the honeymoon," Allison admitted. "I worried about how to tell him all week, thanks very much."

"I'm wicked enough to enjoy that thought," I laughed heartily, "You thinking of me on your honeymoon...classic."

"Well, I needn't have worried," she taunted me. "He said he would have done the same thing if he'd been the one to lose me and after the wonderful week we had just spent he couldn't find it in his heart to begrudge you the only kiss you would ever get from me."

"Ouch," I fidgeted in the driver's seat as if in pain. "That's harsh."

"I would have softened the blow if you hadn't admitted to being wicked," she laughed.

"I deserve a lot worse, I'm sure," I agreed whole-heartedly.

I pulled into the parking lot of the nursing home and put the car in park, leaving the motor running.

"Who is this person I am going to be finding for you? And if you say an old boyfriend, I swear I will kick you out of this car and make you walk back," I threatened.

"My sister," Allison said simply.

"Brittany? But she..."

"Not Brittany," Allison interrupted. "I have a half-sister somewhere and now that my father is dead and can't hurt her or her mother I want to find her."

"So your father had a bas...illegitimate child?" I asked in astonishment.

"Yes, not too long before I was born."

"How do you know this?"

"I have a copy of the birth certificate and some other papers, letters actually, that I think confirm it."

"Can I see them?"

"Yes, but I'll have to bring them with me next weekend. I wasn't sure if you would agree to help me so..." she trailed off.

"How long have you known about this sister?"

"I found the papers sealed up in an envelope in The Allison Box after James died."

"The Allison Box...?"

"It was just a box of things James kept over the years, little mementoes of our time together. I remember seeing James carrying that envelope the day the Fowlkes told my father they had something on him that would hurt his chances of getting his justice appointment."

"The Fowlkes were blackmailing your father?" I asked incredulously.

"No!" Allison denied vehemently. "Well...maybe...I guess you could look at it that way. The Fowlkes simply wanted my father to leave James and me alone. That's all. Mr. Fowlkes called it 'keeping him on a leash'. You have to understand, we were desperate. My father threatened Elsee and James. I couldn't let him hurt them," her eyes were begging me not to judge them too harshly.

"I always wondered why your father backed off," I said thoughtfully. "Mr. Fowlkes was a smart, smart man. You know Mrs. Fowlkes died a couple of years after you left town."

"I'd heard that," Allison admitted.

"But Mr. Fowlkes hung around until a few years ago."

"They were very nice people and helped us more than anyone else, other than you," Allison said sadly.

"So do you know anything about the story of how your sister came into being?" I asked briskly, changing the subject.

"All I could tell from the paperwork was that the baby was born a few months before I was born, and the girl, Sophia Jimenez, was around nineteen when she gave birth."

"Nineteen?" I asked in surprise. "But your father had to be...well...close to forty."

"I know," she replied soberly.

"I guess I shouldn't be shocked, like father like son, and there was a lot of that going around in our circle," I admitted shrugging. "It's just that she apparently wasn't but a few years older than Phillip and..."

I broke off, remembering my own first experience. I had actually been younger than the woman's son, by at least a few months. Somehow, it all just seemed more warped to me than it had before, maybe because I was seeing it through Allison's eyes. I knew I could never tell her about my 'experiences' because I was afraid she wouldn't want anything to do with me, and I wouldn't have been able to stand that.

"You have to keep this out of the office," her eyes widened in alarm as a thought occurred to her. "I'm not sure what Phillip would do if he knew we had a sister."

"Don't worry," I reassured her grimly, "I will keep all of this at home and work on it from there. Now that Nat is out of my house, I won't have to worry about my privacy being invaded any longer."

"I don't know how to thank you," Allison began gratefully.

"I'll think about that and get back to you," I replied lecherously, giving her my best leer. "Now, let's get in there before Violet thinks we're not coming."

Chapter 18

The Search Begins

"More coffee, sir?" the waitress asked politely.

"Hmm...what...?" I asked blankly, glancing up from the local newspaper I'd been studying.

"More coffee...?" she repeated, lifting the pot she was carrying as if using a visual aid in order to help my lack of comprehension.

"Oh, sure," I replied pushing my cup closer to her. "That's good stuff, Minnie," taking in her nametag and grinning boyishly. "You're a great cook."

"Yep, my own special recipe," she nodded returning my grin showing rows of uneven yellowing teeth. "I call it Folgers. The rest of the time you have to settle for Maxwell house."

She cackled and headed to the next table, brandishing the pot.

I stared blankly at the paper in front of me, not seeing it, suddenly too tired to concentrate. Spending the entire previous day in court, I hadn't been able to get out of town as soon as I'd hoped, and the flight to Denver, which was the closest I could get to the small hick town that was my final destination, hadn't landed until well after midnight. Then there had been the rental car, and the long drive, and who knew there wouldn't be a hotel or motel anywhere in the Podunk town in which I'd found myself.

I'd eventually uncovered the 'quaint' bed and breakfast that was the only place to stay within a twenty mile radius. Thankfully, there was a vacancy, but it had been five in the morning before I was finally able to fall into bed only to be awakened promptly at eight by a peremptory knock at the door telling me to shake a leg or miss breakfast.

Unused to eating so much that early in the morning, but unwilling to offend the young couple running the facility by refusing the loaded plate the young woman set in front of me—coffee and one of Mrs. Arnold's homemade cinnamon rolls had been my standard breakfast for more years than I cared to admit—I was feeling uncomfortably full and in need of some serious shut eye.

Realizing, however, that I had very little spare time—weekends were the only days I had available to help Allison with her quest to find her sister—I couldn't afford to waste my time with unnecessary things like sleeping.

Although the breakfast had been tasty, the coffee had been weak and uninspiring, nowhere near strong enough to keep me awake the rest of the day, so I'd searched for and found the only decent eating-place in the whole town. The greasy hamburger joint, which seemed to be the gathering place for teenagers, didn't qualify as either decent or an eating place, and I doubted they even served coffee, which I desperately needed in extremely large quantities.

I had very little information to go on...a birth certificate, which simply read Baby Girl Jimenez and a couple of letters written in Spanish from Sophia Jimenez to Mrs. Fowlkes confirming the birth of a baby girl.

I was thankful to have taken Spanish in school, contrary to my family's wishes. French seemed to me to be a useless language for someone in Texas, so I signed up for Spanish and let my parents find out when they received my first report card. Allison had been the dutiful daughter and taken French, so I ended up having to translate the letters for her since she had been reticent about showing them to anyone else and had no idea what they said.

I decided against hiring a private investigator as Allison had first suggested, not wanting any of the sensitive information I possessed to fall into the wrong hands. In my vast experience, most people could be bought for the right price and I had no intention of offering anyone the opportunity to betray Allison.

There had been no return address on the envelopes, but the postmark on the letters had led me to the small, one-horse town where I found myself, and the only helpful information I had been able to garner from the letters was the fact that Sophia had a job as a waitress, hence my careful examination of name tags.

Minnie obviously wasn't of Spanish decent, although it was true that her dyed red hair could have hidden any color, but her skin was an almost sickly pale color and her eyes were a very pale, tired-looking blue. The cook was a rather rotund man who appeared to be a bit too fond of his own cooking for his own good, and the other waitress, Cindy according to her name tag, the one who had originally taken my order, was obviously a high school girl working a part-time summer job.

I'd already examined the local phone book, and had the local weekly gossip rag, all four pages of it, spread out in front of me on the table, searching for any clue that might lead me to Sophia Jimenez. She could be dead for all I knew, I grimaced at my morbidity, but what if...

"Excuse me, Minnie," I smiled ingratiatingly as I interrupted her standing a couple of feet away, still pouring coffee and flirting with a group of boisterous local men well over sixty.

"Need a warm up, honey...?"

She had apparently decided I was fair flirting game, dropping the meticulously polite tone she had been using, and although she was referring to my coffee, which was still three-quarters full, it was all too apparent that she was more than willing to stretch her meaning to include whatever I was willing to accept. Her lack of dental hygiene alone was enough to send shivers of terror down my spine, but I needed her cooperation, so I hid my revulsion and kept my tone light.

"No thanks," I answered pleasantly, "Not right now," I added, winking to keep her sweet. "I was wondering if there was a local cemetery in the area."

"You plannin' on buryin' somebody," she guffawed loudly at her own joke.

"Nothing that exciting," I laughed along with her. "I'm just tracing my ancestry and this place was mentioned in one of my great-great grandfather's journals," I continued, deciding to add an extra 'great' to my spur of the moment idea to make it sound much farther back than anyone in town was likely to remember. "I want to see if any of my dead relatives are buried here."

I'd been playing with the idea of just coming right out and asking people if they knew Sophia Jimenez, but by the tone of her letters, she was terrified of Lowell Tate finding her and there was no way to know what explanation she had given to the locals for her unmarried pregnant state. I was flying blind, which was a severe handicap, but I couldn't risk alienating the people in town by asking suspicious questions.

"Well, that's nice," she replied sincerely. "You'll find the cemetery about a mile west of town. Take the dirt road that goes by the school. You can't miss it."

"Minnie," I said getting up and leaving a five-dollar tip, "You are a doll."

"Let me know if I can do anything else for you," she called after me as I pushed the door open. "I'm available day or night," she added.

I could hear the suggestive comments by the coffee drinkers as the door shut slowly behind me and Minnie's faint reply "No, that offer isn't open to all takers you dirty old..."

Chuckling to myself, I had to admit to feeling relieved that Minnie would have her hands full calming the natives for a while and wouldn't be coming after me.

The cemetery was surprisingly large, and it took me the rest of the morning to read every headstone assuring myself that there was no Sophia Jimenez hidden among them.

Depressed and reassured at the same time, I made my way back to the bed and breakfast, having reserved the room for Saturday night as well, and pulled the letters out of my inside breast pocket. Spreading them out on the bed, I read and reread the somewhat faded words over and over searching for something, anything that would give me a clue to help me figure out my next move.

I was stumped. What was I thinking? That I would just show up in town, check the phone book, find Sophia and give her a call...apparently that wasn't going to happen.

I should have hired an investigator, but I hadn't wanted to lose control over how many people knew about Allison's sister. Allison trusted me, and I needed to keep that trust intact, I couldn't risk anyone causing her any more pain than she had already suffered.

Sighing heavily, I relaxed into the pillows pushed up against the headboard. Someone had come in, made the bed, and picked up the room. Thankfully, I hadn't left anything important lying around. In a small town, news traveled fast, and if I had left the letters in the room, it wouldn't have been long before everyone there would have been privy to exactly what I was doing there and who I was looking for.

I closed my eyes, flipping ideas through my head like turning pages in a book, until the book slowly closed and I was out.

~ * * ~

There wasn't much I hated more than sleeping in my clothes, especially for hours. I woke up after three, my designer suit wrinkled and my tie choking me. Disrobing and hanging my suit in the closet next to the one I'd worn traveling, hoping the wrinkles would magically disappear, I made my way across the hall to take a shower grumbling about sharing a bathroom with everybody and their dog.

Returning to my room, I put on the only other suit I had with me. I would have to be careful with it. I seldom wore anything else, discovering early in my career that not only was I more intimidating as a lawyer, women responded to the show of power and wealth.

Mark Twain knew what he was talking about when he said, "Clothes make the man." I was living proof of that. Of course, the few people who actually knew me well would realize that the second part of the quote was my favorite. "Naked people have little or no influence on society."

A quick glance in the mirror, and I was ready to go. I wasn't conceited about my looks, just honest. People had to play the hand they were dealt in life, and I believed in playing to my strengths. I'd always been able to get what I wanted out of life by assessing the situation and using my special talents in the most effective way.

I would charm as many people as I could and pay close attention to everything and everyone, playing it by ear in order to figure out what had happened to Sophia Jimenez.

My stomach grumbled. First things first...lunch.

Pulling open the glass door to the diner, I immediately noticed two things: Minnie was no where to be seen—I'd had enough of her brand of service that morning—and in her place was one of the sexiest women I'd ever beheld in my entire life, and that was saying something.

I stood in the doorway, ignoring the slight nudge behind me as the door slowly closed, staring in disbelief, every coherent thought deserting me.

There were no customers, the cook was not in evidence, and the woman was busily sweeping. As I watched, she bent over to retrieve a fork that must have fallen on the floor earlier, the material of her bright pink dress, which looked entirely different on her than it had on Minnie, pulling tightly across her buttocks and showing the back of her perfectly shaped legs.

She straightened and turned, fork in hand, noticing me for the first time, her rosy full lips automatically moving into a welcoming smile as she began to greet me only to change as she became aware of where my gaze had been directed. I could almost literally feel the sparks shooting out of her dark eyes.

"Are you lost?" she inquired abruptly, eyeing me up and down in distaste.

"Lost?" I repeated stupidly, my eyes still glazed over from the shock of finding a sexy bombshell in such an unlikely spot. I'd been looking in all the wrong places, apparently.

"Yes, lost...as in you don't know where you are or where you're going...lost," she replied with exaggerated patience as if speaking to a particularly slow child.

I realized I was still standing in the doorway, so I moved over to the table I had occupied earlier.

"Not lost," I assured her, finding my equilibrium again, "Just faint from hunger. I missed lunch."

"The grill is closed," she snapped. "The cook is taking his afternoon nap," she added as if I should not only have known that, but remembered.

"Hmm...well in that case, Angelica," I said, peering at her name tag and giving it the Spanish pronunciation, "perhaps I could have a piece of pie," I suggested mildly as I sat down, "And some coffee."

"What kind of pie?" she asked grudgingly pulling out her pad and pencil.

"What kind do you have...available?" I countered meeting her eyes boldly.

"Apple, cherry, and chocolate," she recited automatically, dropping her gaze to her pad as if ready to jot down my order.

"Chocolate meringue...?" I questioned hoping to force her into eye contact again.

I wasn't fond of chocolate or meringue, but I wanted to prolong the conversation.

"Yes," she answered shortly, keeping her eyes glued to her pad, waiting with pencil poised.

"I think I'll take your cherry...pie."

I waited, wondering if I'd gone too far.

The anger emanating from her whole body was my answer. Without a word, she turned and moved swiftly past the counter into the area I assumed was the kitchen. I could hear dishes rattling and could have sworn I heard glass breaking.

A few minutes later, she returned with a pie plate, a small piece of cherry pie on it...a very small piece. It looked as if she had taken a normal sized one and cut it in half, no doubt either wishing it were me or hoping the tiny, uninspiring piece would send me on my way more quickly.

She slammed the plate down in front of me and turned back towards the kitchen.

"Angelica...?" I queried softly.

Slowly turning to face me, hands on her hips and black eyes blazing, she waited impatiently without saying anything.

"My coffee...?" I prompted gently.

Mumbling angrily in Spanish, I realized she had no idea I could hear and understand everything she was saying. As she returned with my coffee, spilling quite a bit of it as she set it down with more force than necessary, albeit more softly than she had the plate, I couldn't resist baiting her.

"You know..." I began in a casually conversational tone, placing my napkin in my lap, "It's usually considered quite rude to insult someone's parentage," I continued reproachfully glancing up at her. "Even if you don't think they understand what you're saying."

"You speak Spanish?" her eyes were wide as she unwillingly made eye contact and I could feel myself drowning in the twin deep dark pools.

"Fluently," I smiled smugly and picking up my fork, turned to my pie, forcing myself to relinquish my hold on her gaze.

"Good pie," I added a moment later, but I was talking to myself. "Very good pie indeed," I nodded staring at the pie but seeing something entirely different.

Chapter 19

The Search Continues...

Sort Of

"So we don't know anymore now than we did," Allison sighed in resignation.

"I wouldn't say that," I shrugged. "We know Sophia isn't working at the diner on the weekends and she's not buried here."

"I'm sorry, Richard," Allison said apologetically. "I know you're a busy man and I appreciate you doing this for me. I'm just so impatient to find my sister."

"I can't believe there isn't even a trace of her online," I shook my head in amazement. "You can find just about anyone these days on the internet."

"If you don't have any more time to spend on this..." Allison began.

"Do you know who you're talking to?" I asked teasingly. "I'm like a dog with a bone. I plan to spend however many weekends I have to in order to find Sophia and her daughter. I'm not about to give up after just one," besides the fact that I needed to see her again, I added silently.

"Richard, you're too nice for your own good," she accused.

"Now I doubt that anyone but you would say something so obviously erroneous," I laughed.

It wasn't total selfishness that had me planning to stay with my investigation until I found out something for Allison, I was going to do that anyway, but I knew I wouldn't be able to not go back, not after Saturday. I couldn't get her out of my mind, and that had begun to irk me.

Once she'd disappeared into the kitchen, I hadn't seen her again. The cook had appeared, taken my order, fixed my club sandwich, and served it to me, eyeing me malevolently the whole time. I wondered how much she had told him.

Surely they couldn't be together. The thought of the humongous greasy cook with hands as big as meat hooks touching the soft silky skin that I longed to feel under my fingers, loosening the satiny dark hair from its severe bun and caressing it, had me shuddering in revulsion. I absolutely wouldn't...couldn't...accept that possibility.

Before leaving on Sunday, still as baffled by Sophia as when I'd arrived, I spent most of the day at the diner, but Angelica hadn't shown up again. Not wanting to appear a stalker, I hadn't asked anyone about her, especially the cook, he wasn't my biggest fan, and had to admit defeat...at least temporarily.

I had to go back.

I cleared my afternoon schedule for the next Friday in order to be able to leave earlier for Colorado. I'd already called the bed and breakfast and reserved a room for the weekend. The owners were ecstatic. They didn't get a lot of business and I always tipped well, my way of ensuring a hearty welcome back wherever I stayed.

I arrived in time for the supper rush at the diner.

Angelica and Cindy, the high school girl from the week before, were flitting around trying to take care of the completely packed place. Standing at the door taking in the scene I noted that there were only two available tables, one in Cindy's area and one in Angelica's.

Making up my mind swiftly, I moved purposefully to Cindy's table. The direct approach hadn't worked so I would have to attempt a more subtle one. I wasn't used to rejection, except for Allison of course, but instead of deflating my ego, I found the challenge refreshing.

"Can I help you?" Cindy asked pertly, pushing her wire framed glasses up more securely on her nose. "Oh, I remember you from last Saturday," she added smiling.

"Back again," I admitted ruefully. "What looks good?"

"The special," she answered promptly causing me to wonder amusedly if the cook had coached her to say that.

"And what's the special?"

"The Friday night special is always all you can eat fried catfish," she informed me briskly. "I would recommend getting the coleslaw and potato salad," she confided quietly. "The beans...well...let me just say, you don't want to go there," she added shaking her head swishing the blonde ponytail sitting perched on top.

"Thanks for the warning," I smiled and winked.

As I heard her soft, involuntary gasp I realized that as young as she was, probably no more than seventeen, she wasn't immune to the charismatic charm that I apparently exuded.

I, however, couldn't see her as anything other than a child, which set me wondering again how Lowell had justified his affair with a nineteen year old when he had been around forty, old enough to be her father.

Shaking my head, I brought myself back to the present. Cindy was waiting for me to order.

"I think I'll just settle for a club sandwich, if it's not too much trouble," I told her gently.

"No trouble at all Mr...?" she assured me obviously fishing for my name.

"Stover," I supplied quickly.

My inclination had been to give my first name, but I hesitated to encourage her familiarity, deciding it was probably best to retain some formality. I certainly didn't want the townspeople to think I was some sort of pedophile.

"Would you like fries or chips with that, Mr. Stover?" she asked in a monotone, obviously let down that I hadn't been more forthcoming.

"Just the sandwich will be fine."

"Anything to drink, Mr. Stover?" she asked, trying to curb her disappointment.

"A cup of coffee would be great, Cindy," I returned softly, hoping the use of her name would smooth things over, adding, "Thanks for all your help," for good measure.

"My pleasure," the smile was back.

Nonchalantly taking in the clientele, surreptitiously studying each of them in turn, I was startled by the sound of a coffee cup being place on my table with unexpected force. As the coffee splashed into my cup, I looked up curiously to see what had upset Cindy so much that she was abusing the dishes and my eyes locked with a pair of deep dark mysterious eyes—the same ones that had haunted my dreams since Saturday—but they were furious...nothing unusual there.

"Angel," I acknowledged by way of greeting, once again using the Spanish intonation.

"My name is Angelica," she corrected me forcefully, using the English pronunciation.

"Not to me," I shrugged indifferently and picked up my coffee, taking a tentative sip, hoping Angelica hadn't poisoned it.

Angelica hadn't moved, standing there holding the coffee pot in one hand the other hand placed on her hip, obviously not through with me.

"Something I can do for you?" I asked setting down my cup and glancing up as disinterestedly as I could manage.

Bending towards me, unintentionally giving me a small glimpse of her very ample cleavage, she hissed "Stay away from Cindy, she's a good girl."

Once again, she caught my eyes taking in forbidden sights. Straightening away from me quickly—I was momentarily worried that I was about to be wearing the scalding contents of the coffee pot in her hand—I could see her fighting the impulse to cause me physical pain, but all I could do was watch, mesmerized, waiting for her fateful decision.

A couple of tense moments passed, and I knew I was safe, at least temporarily, as she turned and stomped toward the kitchen.

A chastised Cindy delivered my food a few minutes later.

"Here you are, Mr. Stover," she was beating the Mr. thing to death and I almost gave in, telling her to call me Richard just so I wouldn't have to listen to that every sentence.

"Thank you, Cindy," I gave her my most paternal smile, hoping I had one and added, "You remind me a lot of my daughter. She's a bit older than you, though."

Ironically, even though I no longer had a biological daughter, and Cindy was nothing like Laticia, in the eyes of the world I could still claim her whenever it seemed politic to do so.

"You have a daughter my age?" she squeaked.

I hadn't realized I looked that young. Or maybe she was just a poor judge of age. The very young frequently were.

"She's actually about to turn twenty-one," I admitted.

"Oh my gosh, you're old," she exclaimed then covered her mouth with both hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean...I mean you don't look old, but you must be."

"I play a lot of tennis and racquetball," I replied lightly. "You know what they say about healthy living." Then to ensure there were no misunderstandings I added, "I am old, old enough to be your father."

"Oh," she looked crestfallen. "I've just never met anybody as..." she stopped in embarrassment.

"Do you think I could get a refill on my coffee?" I asked taking a huge swallow, feeling it burn all the way down, but wanting to give Cindy a chance to recover from her faux pas.

"Of course, Mr. Stover," she said quickly, hurrying off to find the coffee pot.

"If you don't leave that child alone, I swear I'll report you to CPS," an infuriated voice whispered in my right ear as an extremely hot coffee pot barely missed my cheek.

Turning towards the sound of her voice carefully as she filled my cup I murmured, "Jealous?"

With an involuntary jerk of her arm, hot coffee splashed all around the cup, narrowly missing my hand, and streamed off the table onto my leg before I had time to move.

"What the hell...?" I jumped up as if I could escape the hot liquid burning into my thigh, knocking the chair backwards onto the floor. "Are you trying to kill me?" I demanded angrily pulling the scalding material away from my skin in a futile effort to stop the pain.

"I'm so sorry...so sorry," Angelica said, obviously dismayed at what she had done. "So sorry...I didn't mean to..."

Cindy quickly showed up with some ice wrapped in a rag and handed it to me wordlessly, eyes wide. I grimaced, attempting a smile of thanks at her as I took the ice and placed it against the worst of the pain. It didn't seem to be helping much, but it was better than nothing.

I certainly had everyone's attention and sympathy. Angelica stared at me in horror.

"I'm fine," I said impatiently "If you'll just point me towards the men's room..."

The cook hurried out to see what all the commotion was and furrowed his eyebrows as he took in the situation.

"Angelica...?" he asked ominously.

"It was an accident," I broke in smoothly. "I jostled her arm. Entirely my fault," I reassured him calmly. I could see visions of lawsuits dancing in his head. "Do you have anything I could put on it?"

"The first aid kit is somewhere in the back," he said vaguely "Probably something in there. Never use the stuff myself," he muttered turning back towards the kitchen, uninterested once I'd taken full responsibility for the accident. "Angelica can find it for you. I got food to cook."

"Cindy, watch my customers until I come back," Angelica murmured to her.

"No problem," she nodded enthusiastically. "Angelica will fix you up, she has the magic touch."

"The magic touch...?" I repeated curiously. "What does that...?"

"Come on," Angelica grabbed my arm and pulled me limping towards the back.

Cindy shrugged at me as the once again extremely angry woman hauled me away.

"I had no idea you were so anxious to get me alone," I said in amusement once we were through the kitchen and into the back room.

"Don't make me regret not pouring the whole pot on you," she warned.

"So it was on purpose?" I asked innocently.

"No! I would never..." she broke off, realizing the trap she'd fallen into so easily.

Turning her back on me, she began opening cupboards.

"So I guess I'm safe from any further coffee pouring recriminations?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly.

"Oh shut up and take off your pants," Angelica said crossly as she slammed a cabinet door shut and turned around holding a tube of something.

"Excuse me?"

"I found the salve," she indicated the tube and exhaled in a longsuffering sigh.

"Ah..." I nodded. "As much as I appreciate your offer to play 'doctor', I'm sure I can handle it myself. Perhaps another time...?"

"Play doctor..." I could see her anger building again. "Why you..."

"If you don't mind," I interrupted abruptly, "I'd like to get this done before it starts blistering."

Angelica practically threw the tube of salve at me and left in a huff, slamming the door behind her.

I wasted no time. Pulling my pants down, I carefully applied the salve to the painfully red blotches only inches from what I considered a vital part of my anatomy, extremely relieved that only my trousers and leg had sustained injuries.

The trousers were replaceable, the leg would heal, but I didn't even want to think about what damage scalding hot coffee could have inflicted.

Although it had been a long time since I'd slept with a woman, not since Millie, I would hate for anything to affect my ability to do so, especially since I'd found a woman that I wanted more than any other woman I'd ever met, including Allison.

That was why I'd driven her from the room. If I'd let her touch any part of my leg, she would have been instantly rewarded with an embarrassingly obvious standing ovation.

I thought I'd acquired more self-control than that over the years, but apparently not as much as I'd hoped. I wanted her, but she didn't seem to be interested, basically accusing me of trying to seduce a mere teenager like I was some dirty old man.

If I were going to bed her, I would have to change my MO. She appeared to be more like Allison than any other woman I'd ever known so I would have to be subtle, something I hadn't needed to bother with before. I would have to go slowly, feel my way, and figure out what she wanted.

Cynically, I believed that every woman wanted something, although for Allison, it had been something I obviously couldn't supply, and that it was purely a matter of discovering what that something was.

I made my way back into the dining area with an idea how to start. My instinctual decision to sit at Cindy's table earlier had managed to bring Angelica to me rather than me having to chase her, so maybe that was the key; pretend to ignore her.

Since my obvious visual appreciation of her 'charms' had only served to anger her; that wasn't the answer.

Seating myself at the same table I had vacated earlier, I waited for Cindy.

Chapter 20

Totally Off-Track

The knock on the door startled me; I wasn't expecting company. Deeply absorbed in a pile of depositions, attempting to wade through them before returning to Austin on Sunday in order to be ready for court on Monday, I had just stepped out of the shower an hour previously, and was wearing nothing but my dressing gown.

Figuring it was probably one of the owners, and determined to finish making a couple of notes before I forgot what I wanted to say, I called "Come in," and continued with what I was doing.

I heard the door open and muttered "Hang on a sec," as I scribbled another thought that had just occurred to me.

Setting the pen down on the paper as I heard the door close, I turned in my chair and stood to greet my unexpected visitor.

"Hi," Angelica offered awkwardly.

"Hi," I mimicked back, careful to keep my face expressionless.

She was still wearing her uniform, having obviously come straight from the diner, and I had to wonder what she thought was so important that she would risk a visit to my room alone at night after my noticeably appreciative perusals of her person.

Earlier that evening, after doctoring up my burns and returning to my table, she'd ignored me while I finished the fresh club sandwich the cook, Harley, had insisted I accept gratis. I'd only managed to down a bite or two of the original one before the coffee incident, and he'd had Cindy toss it, fixed me up a new one, and delivered it himself.

I'd switched from coffee to water just in case Angelica wasn't through with her own form of retribution yet, but she hadn't come anywhere near me.

"Um...Cindy told me what you said to her," she began hesitantly.

I allowed a smirk to curve my lips, but remained silent.

"I'm sorry I thought..." she stopped and chewed on her lower lip in vexation for a moment.

"That I was a dirty old man intent on corrupting the morals of an innocent teenager?" I asked harshly.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, visibly upset.

"Perhaps you should get your facts straight before you start flinging accusations and scalding coffee at someone," I suggested brutally.

"Is your leg...?" she stopped abruptly, unable to finish the question.

"I'll live."

"I'd like to make it up to you."

"How...?"

I wasn't planning on making it easy on her, but I was extremely interested in what her idea of 'making it up to me' entailed. Perhaps I was finally getting somewhere. Guilt seemed to work with Allison most of the time, so...

"I could get the coffee stain out of your pants," she offered hopefully.

"I'd rather not trust them to someone who doesn't know what they're doing," I said rudely, disappointed that her offer was not the one I had hoped for. "It doesn't necessarily follow that you know how to remove a stain just because you are able to cause one."

"But I do know what to do," she objected. "I just use a bit of glycerin and warm water on the stain. I do it all the time."

"For your husband...?"

I had hoped she wasn't married, at least not happily, but I wasn't sure it was going to make a difference to me in the end.

"I don't...I'm not...my husband died a long time ago," she stuttered. "I do it for Mr. Donne."

"Your boyfriend...lover...?"

"Mr. Donne, the author, I'm his part time housekeeper," she corrected me. "He's always spilling his coffee on his pants, because of his dogs or dog really, Lady is well-behaved but the other one..." She bit her lip again as if to stop the nervous prattle. "I've never had trouble getting the stains out."

I shrugged, "Don't worry about it. When I return home..."

"But if you let it set, it makes it harder to get out," she insisted. "I can do it for you tonight and get them back to you tomorrow." She involuntarily took a step closer to me, "Please, let me make up for...the accident."

I debated. I could suggest a more mutually...pleasurable...way to make it up to me, but I was fairly certain it was too soon. She struck me as the type to want to 'get to know' someone first.

Oh well, I thought in resignation, I have time. The reason for my weekend trips was still staring me in the face, having made no progress yet, so I would be there indefinitely.

Walking to the closet, I pulled out the charcoal grey suit hanging meticulously on one of the special hangars I always bought for my designer clothes. Moving over to stand directly in front of Angelica I handed her the whole thing.

"There are a few spots on the suit coat as well," I informed her indifferently. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure."

I could see a small tremor in her hand as she took the hangar from me.

I had the sudden urge to reassure her that it was only clothes and not to worry if she accidentally ruined my five thousand dollar suit, which was probably more than she made waitressing in six months, perhaps even a year, but I refrained, wondering what form her penance would take if she allowed that to happen.

Battling the images rising unbidden to mind, I once again found myself in the uncomfortable position of desperately needing her to leave before my body betrayed me, and she realized what I really wanted.

"Now if you don't mind," I began, reaching past her to open the door, "I have work to do."

"I'm sor..." she didn't have time to finish her sentence as I put my hand on her back and propelled her out the door, quickly shutting it behind her.

Her physical presence was gone, but her smell lingered. I couldn't place it at first, but it made my mouth water.

That's odd, I thought, I've never had that happen before.

After a few minutes of inhaling, I finally recognize the scent...cherry pie.

"Damn," I exclaimed glancing down in irritation, "I've got to stop doing that."

Chapter 21

Getting Back on Track

"Stover," I said sleepily into my cell phone.

"Richard? Did I wake you?"

"S'alright," I mumbled drowsily, "had to get up to answer the phone anyway."

"Are you not sleeping well there?"

Shaking my head to clear the last remnants of sleep, I sat up and put my feet on the floor.

"I just worked too late last night," stifling a yawn. "I would have done the same thing at home."

"You work so hard and here I am taking up your weekends with..."

"Stop right there," I interrupted, feeling guilty myself. "I volunteered to do this, and I don't mind, so stop worrying about my sleeping habits. I've managed to discover the benefits of afternoon napping..."

"Richard!"

I laughed, I couldn't help it.

"Alone," I assured her.

"Maybe I should..."

"Come keep me company?" I suggested wickedly.

"Richard..." her voice was no longer shocked...it was full of reproach.

"I'm just teasing you, Allison."

"Oh, sorry," I could hear the smile return to her voice. "Actually, I was wondering if I should make a trip up there now that I have CeeCee and Felicia settled into their new apartment in Austin. I could help you look for Sophia or take your place so you have your weekends back. I'm sure you have better things to do with your time and..."

"Look, Allison, I'm only going to say this one more time...I don't mind, in fact it's kind of like a vacation. I haven't been out of Austin in years except for business trips and the occasional skiing excursion, and the area here is very restful. You wouldn't want to take my holiday away from me now, would you?"

I knew I had to find a way to turn her guilt in another direction, otherwise she was going to show up and find out about my secret obsession, and I wanted to avoid that at all costs.

"Okay, if you're sure," she said tentatively.

"I'm sure," I breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll call you tomorrow as soon as I'm back in town. There are some people I plan to talk to and a few more places to check. Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky today."

In more ways than one, I added silently.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, then," Allison agreed. "Sorry I woke you."

"No problem," I assured her. "I'll try to return the favor some time."

We hung up laughing and I grabbed my dressing gown and threw it on, heading to the shower. Opening the door, I came face to face with the object of my secret obsession.

"Oh," she dropped the raised hand that had presumably been about to knock on the door, allowing it to join her other hand as she tightly grasped the hangar holding my suit.

Her eyes unwillingly followed the line of my dressing gown as it lay open to just below my navel. I hadn't seen any reason to do more than a loose knot seeing as how I was just going to have to undo it shortly to jump in the shower, and the pinkness slowly creeping up her neck towards her face told me louder than words that she realized I had nothing on underneath it.

Steeling myself against the pull of her attraction, my voice came out more icily than I intended.

"Do you make a habit of showing up uninvited and unannounced in men's bedrooms?"

"I...you...your suit..." she stammered then recovering slightly, "I got the stains out."

"Hang it in my closet," I said irritably shoving past her toward the shower, "and shut the door when you leave."

I had intended to take a long hot relaxing shower, but standing under the cold spray, I could feel my self-control returning. I had never been a fan of cold showers and they were getting old...fast. Drying off, I donned my dressing gown and, tying the knot securely, I returned to my room.

Until I entered the room and realized it was empty, the fact that I had been holding my breath hadn't dawned on me. I didn't even want to admit to myself that I had been hoping Angelica would still be there waiting for me, but I couldn't stifle the feeling of extreme disappointment that filled me once I realized she hadn't. My attitude towards her had been frigid, so I shouldn't have been surprised. She had most likely hightailed it out of my room as soon as she'd dumped the suit.

Opening the closet, I noticed the suit hanging there, perfectly pressed. Taking it down, I checked everywhere, but could find no trace of coffee anywhere on the material.

"Amazing," I whispered, although there was no one there to hear me "The perfect woman."

Even Mrs. Arnold had trouble completely removing coffee stains from my suits, which was why I was always extremely careful with that particular beverage.

I dressed meticulously as always, and then moved over to the desk intent on picking up the letters in order to stow them safely in my breast pocket, having taken them out of my briefcase and set them aside the night before while working on the briefs I had brought with me.

Many years ago I had learned a valuable lesson about keeping track of every single sheet of paper, no matter how seemingly insignificant it may seem, in order to be able to locate it at a moment's notice without wasting valuable time searching. Since then it had become second nature to me, barely even glancing at stacks of papers as my hand automatically reached for and located the correct one.

As my hand automatically sought the letters I had placed on the top right hand corner of the desk, it encountered wood instead. My eyes flew to the spot where I had set the letters, uncomprehendingly. I stood perplexed for a moment, and then realized they must have fallen onto the floor. Squatting down by the desk, my eyes anxiously searching underneath the desk for the important letters, I found nothing, the hard wood floor totally devoid of even a speck of dust, much less papers.

I stayed frozen in that position, shocked to the core that the letters had obviously been moved, until my knees began to protest at the harsh treatment they were receiving.

Straightening up, I began methodically to search my briefcase, knowing I would not find anything other than the briefs I had been working on the night before, but determined to eliminate every possible explanation before admitting what I already knew, or at least strongly suspected.

Although I'd resolutely denied it, ever since first laying eyes on Angelica and hearing her speak Spanish, I could refute the evidence no longer.

Angelica had been in my room—in my stupidity and lack of foresight I had let her in, actually invited her in—and no doubt curious about my purpose in being there, had decided to do a bit of snooping, stumbling across the letters and birth certificate.

She must have taken them.

But why would she have taken them?

Because she knew what they meant.

And how would she know what they meant?

The answer was obvious...she was Allison's half-sister.

"Damn," I muttered and dropped heavily into the chair, "Damn, damn, damn."

Chapter 22

Just My Luck...

Although I couldn't say why I knew it to be true, I was one hundred percent positive that Angelica was Allison's half-sister. There were quite a few Hispanic families in the area, but only someone as beautiful as Angelica could possibly be blood related to Allison.

What is it with me and Tate women? I asked myself in disgust and then What do I do now?

As I sat stunned, unable to move from the uncomfortable wooden chair at the desk, I knew what I had to do, but was loathe to do it. My reticence to confirm my theory puzzled me, and I shied away from investigating that reluctance. I didn't want to admit my reasons for not wanting to know...even to myself.

Unwillingly, I forced myself to consider what the implications of a blood relationship between my 'love' and my 'infatuation' would mean. I wanted Allison to be able to trust me, hoped she would eventually come to feel something more than friendship for me with Wilson gone, but I couldn't get Angelica out of my head.

I was trapped between the proverbial rock and a hard place.

If I somehow were able to convince Allison to marry me, would I be able to deal with my attraction to her sister? Or there was the other scenario, which I had to admit appealed to me greatly. What if I were to bed Angelica? The thought alone was intoxicating. Could I get her out of my system? Would Allison ever be able to forgive that type of indiscretion?

Too many questions buzzed around in my brain and I suddenly had a headache the size of Texas. I never had headaches so, of course, I had no type of painkiller, but I was certain I deserved far worse.

Two choices presented themselves to me: I could head to Denver and take the next flight home forgetting everything I thought I had learned or I could confront Angelica and confirm my theory.

In general, it wasn't in my nature to run from a confrontation, but I would have happily made an exception if I thought I could get away with it. The problem was, I knew I couldn't. Allison needed to know and I had to see Angelica again.

Making the only decision possible under the circumstances, I determinedly pushed myself out of the chair and headed to the diner.

~ * * ~

"So you have no idea where she lives?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Not my business," Harley shrugged nonchalantly. "Are you gonna order something...or leave?"

I could hear the inherent threat in his voice. The wagons had been circled, and were preparing for an attack.

If I'd had any doubts about Angelica's identity earlier, they were dispelled by the stonewalling I had been subjected to ever since leaving my room. Even the friendly couple who owned the bed and breakfast had asked when I was leaving, claiming they were going to need my room soon.

Glancing around the diner, I took in the baleful stares of the customers, noticing that Millie's eyes were glacial.

"You wouldn't be planning on adding a little something extra to my food now would you Harley?" I asked cynically.

"Guess that depends on how long you plan on staying in town," he replied cryptically.

"Hmm...guess I'll just be moseying along then," I drawled, hiding my frustration.

Harley nodded once, turned abruptly, and headed back to the kitchen.

"We take care of our own," Minnie hissed in my ear as she passed.

"I can see that," I murmured, amusement temporarily overriding my exasperation as I pushed open the door and exited the diner.

Sophia couldn't have picked a better town in which to settle down and have Lowell's illegitimate child. He would have never been able to get anywhere near her with all the watchdogs she had in place.

My stomach grumbled unhappily, and I decided I had no choice but to risk the hamburger joint down the road. The good thing about that place was the fact that it was full of teenagers who basically lived their lives oblivious to anything that didn't directly affect them. They sent me a few curious glances and then promptly proceeded to discount me as unimportant in the grand scheme of things. I ordered my food and then found a small table in the back rather hidden by a pole where I could sit and watch everyone in the joint without drawing any attention to myself.

Hearing my number called, I moved up to the counter to retrieve my 'food' and found my way back to my secluded table. The hamburger and shake weren't too bad, but the fries were basically grease congealed into a solid form. Ignoring the fries, I started in on the hamburger.

About halfway through, I noticed a teenage boy enter the establishment. Almost everyone in the place greeted him, but that wasn't what held my attention.

He was the spitting image of Lowell Tate.

Up to that point, I hadn't given a thought to the possibility that Angelica and her late husband had children, but there was no way that kid was not related to Lowell.

As I watched him interact, obviously popular with everyone, I could see subtle differences between him and Lowell, but a lot of the facial expressions were the same. Sophia must have had a cow as he grew older and showed every appearance of being made in the same image as her lover. That would have been hard to hide.

Making a snap decision, I got up, leaving most of what passed for food in that place sitting uneaten on the table, while I quickly made my way outside. There were only two methods I could think of at my disposal for finding Angelica: follow her son or attempt to find Mr. Donne her employer.

Since Mr. Donne was an unknown quantity, I decided to try the first method and then, if that didn't work out, I could still consider the second one.

The problem was how to keep the boy under surveillance without anyone realizing what I was doing. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the greasy spoon, I glanced around in what I hoped appeared to be a casual manner, checking out the possibilities. There were a few storefronts, the small grocery store, a hardware store, and an inordinate amount of what Allison had long ago coined 'artsy/craftsy' stores...quite a high percentage for such a tiny town.

Allison will love it here, I thought idly.

My gaze rested on the bed and breakfast where I was staying. My room was in a back corner of the place, the windows facing the small parking lot behind the huge old house and one of the sides, so that was of no use. However, if I made myself comfortable in the front parlor, I would have a perfect view of the whole street, including the popular teenage hangout.

After a quick perusal of the insides of the hamburger joint, assuring myself that the boy was not leaving anytime soon, I strolled back to the bed and breakfast. Letting myself in, I headed immediately up the stairs to my room.

Nothing had been disturbed, but I hadn't expected anything else. The only papers in my possession that were pertinent to the townspeople were no longer in my possession, but in theirs, leaving them no reason to bother the rest of my things.

I hastily grabbed my briefcase and headed downstairs at a more leisurely pace hoping the boy hadn't left yet. Under the disbelieving stares of the owners, I settled myself on their loveseat, which was the only piece of furniture facing the front windows, opened my briefcase, and pulled out one of the briefs I had been studying the night before, pretending to peruse it carefully, all the while keeping my eyes fixed on the doorway down the street. The boy had been wearing jeans and a bright red t-shirt, so I suspected it wouldn't be too difficult to pick him out from the others.

About an hour later, the object of my interest finally emerged with a girl, standing on the walk in front of the place gesticulating animatedly. They argued for a good ten minutes before the boy took off, alone, and headed at a fast pace down the road next to the school that led to the cemetery...success.

At the very least, I knew what general direction to take. Angelica obviously didn't live in town, but I had suspected that was the case anyway from the seemingly spontaneous strolls around town I had taken the previous weekend when I had been searching for her for an entirely different reason.

Knowing that the proprietors of the bed and breakfast would be close by, I decisively snapped my briefcase shut and stood.

"Mrs. Donaldson," I called loudly, acting as if she were five rooms away instead of the five feet I suspected was more accurate.

"Yes, Mr. Stover," she came scurrying into the room, nervously wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as if she'd been caught drying dishes instead of eavesdropping.

"Ah...there you are," I smiled amiably. "Would you mind running my briefcase upstairs? I feel in need of a brisk walk."

"Of course," she replied flustered, taking the briefcase as if it were a snake.

"Thanks," I nodded to her husband, who had appeared next to her as if by magic, and ambled towards the front door. "I won't be gone long," I lied convincingly, secretly hoping for a productive, extended walk.

Sauntering along the boardwalk, I peered into windows pretending to window shop and slowly made my way towards the school. I'd given the boy enough of a head start so none of the locals would think anything about my taking the same road. I was sure they were all watching me with an eagle eye and probably hadn't noticed the kid leave the hamburger joint, and even if they had, I was fairly certain none of them would suspect that I recognized him since I had never laid eyes on him before.

Although the road was dirt, it was fairly hard and compacted dirt with only an occasional chance of glimpsing a footprint. I wondered if the kid had his license; he certainly looked old enough, and if that were the case, he would most likely walk on the right hand side of the road. Instinctively, most drivers did, even though it was a safer bet for pedestrians to face oncoming traffic.

Still, even though he was probably old enough, it didn't necessarily follow that he'd had the opportunity. Crisscrossing the road looking for fresh prints, I finally spied one I assumed to be his on the right hand side of the road. That would make it easier to follow and cut out all of my extra zigzagging.

The sun was well up into the sky and I could feel the sweat running down my back before I had even gone half the distance to the cemetery.

A car, a car, my law practice for a car, I paraphrased wistfully.

When I arrived at the cemetery, I had a decision to make; I was at a crossroads with no idea which way to go.

Examining the road in every direction for about ten feet, I found what I thought was a fresh footprint on the right side of the road that continued straight-ahead due west.

Sighing heavily, I trudged on, realizing that, ironically, the suit Angelica had cleaned for me would probably be unsalvageable by the time I finished my trek.

After the cemetery, the road began to climb and weave. Trees grew closer together, crowding up to the very edge, and I found myself constantly dodging potholes.

The road felt like it had no end, it was the bottomless pit of roads, and I would have lost all sense of time if I hadn't had my Rolex to keep me from becoming totally disoriented.

Suspiciously, I wondered if it was all a trick, a trap that everyone in the community was privy to, that would lead me so far from town my body would lie undiscovered for years. Allison knew where I was of course, but what good was that if I were already dead.

Giving myself a hard mental as well as physical shake, I tried to get a grip on my fanciful wonderings, determined to follow the only good lead that had presented itself since I began my investigation, until I reached my objective or died trying. At that moment, it certainly felt as if the latter was the more likely possibility.

Just when I thought I would have to give up all hope, certain I had chosen the wrong direction, I rounded a curve and stopped short in surprise. There, just barely off the beaten—and I do mean beaten—path, nestled in amongst huge trees, was a small log cabin with, incongruously, a white picket fence surrounding it.

I barely had time to register the name 'Maxwell' on the mailbox, when I heard a gun discharge from inside the cabin and saw dust kicking up in front of me just off to my right.

"That's far enough," I heard a voice, which sounded suspiciously familiar, say in an angry tone through an open window.

Lifting my hands up level with my ears so she could see I was unarmed, I said in a conversational tone, "I just want to talk, Angelica."

"I don't want to talk to you," she said as she fired another shot, hitting the dirt closer to me.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me," I continued as evenly as I could manage with a deranged female using me for target practice.

"Possession is nine tenths of the law or so I've heard," she replied scathingly. "But if you want to argue with my Colt .45, be my guest."

I was thinking fast and furious, running possible approaches through my mind, wondering how she would react to them.

In the end, I decided I had to be brutally honest and lay all my cards on the table, the possibility that I may never get another shot at it—very punny, I thought wryly to myself—seemed highly likely, and I wouldn't have been surprised to find that she was already packed and ready to run.

"Be a shame if I turned up dead before I could tell your sister I found you."

"I have no sister!" she practically screamed at me, firing at my feet again.

If she got any closer, I was sure to lose a toe or two, possibly even a whole foot.

"Half-sister then," I acknowledged. "Allison was looking forward to having a sister she could actually like."

"Allison," I could hear the puzzlement in her voice. "I thought my sister's name was Brittany."

I heard her catch her breath as she realized her mistake.

"And I thought you said you didn't have a sister."

"Just go away and leave us alone," Angelica sounded close to hysteria. "I will shoot you if I have to."

"Angelica," I said gently, "your father is dead and I mean you no harm."

"He is dead?" an older voice with a heavy Spanish accent asked insistently.

"Yes, Sophia," I said softly as I took a couple of steps toward the house. "He died last year of a stroke. The only Tate who knows about you is Allison, and she wasn't born until after you left the Fowlkes."

"My letters..." her voice cracked.

"If you don't mind," I began cautiously, "I'd like to come in and tell you a story. It's a rather long and involved story, and I'm sweltering out here so..."

"Let him in Angelica," the voice commanded.

"But Mama, he looks just like your description of..." Angelica began in protest.

"Let him in," she repeated sternly.

"Yes Mama," Angelica whispered.

I heard her unlocking several dead bolts and finally she was standing there in the doorway, soft shiny black hair working loose from its customary bun and wearing an old pair of worn jeans and tight black tank top that had me reeling with desire, temporarily forgetting why I was there.

"Are you coming in or not?" she asked impatiently.

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded curtly and brushed passed her, careful to avoid any physical contact as well as the gun hanging down by her right side.

It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust from the brilliance of the sun to the darkened room. I was able to make out a few pieces of furniture and the one other occupant of the room, an older woman with graying hair pulled severely back into a bun, wearing an old fashion black dress and perched primly on the couch.

"Sit," she ordered as she indicated the place next to her. "Senor Stover...yes?"

"Yes ma'am," I replied politely.

"The coffee stains...?"

"And burns," I added ruefully.

"You make her nervous," the old woman chuckled. "I know that feeling when Lowell come."

"Mama, don't!" Angelica exclaimed in shock.

"Go get children," Sophia ordered.

"But..."

"We talk without you," she insisted.

With a sound of frustration, Angelica left the room and I heard a back door slam shut.

"Angelica send them to hide in shed," Sophia said conspiratorially.

"Why?" I asked surprised.

"She think you here to take them," she replied sadly. "He is dead?"

"I'm sorry," I wasn't sure what I was apologizing for, but it seemed the thing to do.

"I always love him," she whispered, "but he want to kill our baby so no one know about our love, and that I can not do."

"An abortion," I nodded.

"He pay me," Sophia admitted, "but I take money to make new life for my Angelica. Mrs. Fowlkes, she help me. She was good woman."

"Yes she was," I agreed wholeheartedly. "You worked for her?"

"At seventeen I swim the river. I go to visit my cousin where she work," she explained. "They give us room because we have nothing. I work there two year and see Lowell many time, always watch me. I am young but I know he want me. Always I stay away from him but one day when I go to market he see me and make me ride with him, but he no take me home. We go to apartment in town and that is first time. I fight him but he make me want him too so after we go to apartment many time. I know English not so good and it make me happy that he spoke en Espanola. He give me money and want me to live there but I tell him no. Then I am with child."

I could picture it all too well.

Angelica resembled her mother so strongly that I, of all people, understood all too well how hard it would have been to fight the attraction he felt for the young Mexican girl. I wondered if he had returned her feelings or whether for him it had been about the sex. In my mind, Lowell Tate had never been capable of any 'finer feelings', but I supposed it was possible.

"Why would Angelica think I was after her children?"

"Because Samuel is Tate," she replied proudly.

"He is the spitting image of Lowell," I commented in understanding. "I was amazed when I saw him."

"You follow him and find us," Sophia nodded her head sagely. "Elizabeth say he go to town with no permission and we know you be here soon."

"Hence the gun," I smiled wryly.

"Angelica is like tigress with cub, no?" Sophia laughed.

"I would protect them with my life," Angelica hissed from behind us.

I stood and turned as Angelica flipped on the overhead light. Although it didn't add much brightness to the room, it was enough.

"You're blind!" I exclaimed without thinking, shocked that I hadn't noticed it earlier.

"She has macular degeneration," Angelica said brusquely. "Mama, are you okay?" she asked eyeing me suspiciously.

"Yes, Senor Stover is very kind," Sophia assured her. "I tell him my story so now we listen his."

"I'm Richard Stover," I introduced myself to the two teenagers. "You must be Samuel and Elizabeth."

"Hi," Samuel grinned and held out his hand, which I shook firmly. "You're the suit who was eating at the Shack."

"Trying to anyways."

I couldn't help but grin back at him, his smile was contagious. No way had he inherited that from Lowell. I'd never seen the man genuinely smile at anyone.

Elizabeth was much like Angelica in appearance and seemed to be very reserved. She half-smiled and gave me a small wave of her hand. Not wishing to embarrass her, I contented myself with returning her smile and let it go at that.

"So...shall we all sit while I explain my presence here?" I asked raising an eyebrow at Angelica.

"I'm not sure the children..." she began.

"Aw...come on Mom," Samuel interrupted. "I'm seventeen now, and I wish you'd stop calling me a child."

"I assure you my story is rated G for general audience," I interceded.

Samuel laughed and said, "See, he thinks I should stay, don't you Mr. Stover?"

"Call me Richard, please," I insisted.

Although he was a teenager, I liked Samuel immediately, which was admittedly an unusual circumstance for me.

"I would prefer him to call you Mr. Stover," Angelica contradicted. "My children were raised to be respectful."

"Even though you don't believe I deserve any?"

At Samuel's puzzled look, I continued, "Your mother doesn't like me much."

"Okay, let's all sit down and Mr. Stover can regale us with his fascinating tale," Angelica shooed everyone into chairs. "So I suppose you can begin by telling us who you really are and how you came to be in possession of letters belonging to my mother."

"Well, technically they belonged to Mrs. Fowlkes," I couldn't resist correcting her. "Once you mail a letter to someone it no longer legally belongs to you." At her fierce frown, I hastily continued. "Mrs. Fowlkes gave the letter to a...friend of mine...who in turn left it for his wife, your half-sister, after he died."

"But not Brittany?"

"Look," I pointed out wryly "this is going to go a lot faster if you just let me tell the story without any interruptions."

"Fine," Angelica huffed. "My lips are sealed."

I really wished she hadn't put it that way, as I didn't need any more distractions, and drawing my attention to her lips at that point made concentration well nigh impossible.

Determinedly pulling my scattered thoughts together, I made a concerted effort to attempt to make sense as I began 'at the beginning'.

"You obviously know about Phillip and Brittany, Lowell's two older children, but after Sophia left Austin they had one more child, Allison. She is just a few months younger than I am so we grew up together. I'm going to skip to our college years because that is where your situation comes into play."

"Lowell and Violet Tate were determined that Allison marry the man they chose for her, but she had other ideas. She fell in love with James Wilson the son of the Fowlkes' housekeeper, a very nice woman by the name of Elsee Wilson. Lowell was not about to allow that to happen and basically threatened to ruin the Wilsons in any way he could. The Fowlkes knew that Lowell was in the running for an appointment to the Texas Supreme Court, since one of the current justices had cancer and would be forced to step down, and they used the information they had on you, Sophia, to keep Lowell in check and allow Allison and James to marry knowing that Lowell would be up for reelection every six years and if your situation ever came to light it could jeopardize his position."

"According to Allison, they were sure that the thought of being exposed would be enough for him without actually bringing any of you into it. Apparently, they gave James an envelope with a copy of your letters, Sophia, and Angelica's birth certificate in it just in case anything happened to them so he could continue to protect them from any future retribution. Allison said the envelope was still sealed when she found it in James' things and that he had not even opened it. She, not knowing what was in it of course, did open it, but she was not going to do anything with the information because she too wanted to keep you all safe from Lowell."

"None of us kept in touch with Allison, so it wasn't until a few months ago that she discovered her father died last year. She asked me to help her find you, and here I am. She and I are the only ones who know about you, and we don't plan to tell anyone else."

"Why did she want to find us?" Angelica asked cautiously.

"Family is the most important thing in the world to Allison," I smiled as I thought of the massive amounts of time we had spent with Violet over the past months. "Even though her mother was never much of a mother, Allison visits her in the home all the time."

"Violet lives?" Sophia asked with a strange note in her voice.

"Yes, but she isn't quite right in the head," I admitted. "Allison and I visit her regularly, but Violet's other two children, the ones who put her in the home, had her declared incompetent, took control of her estate, and basically ignores her existence."

"That is so sad," Angelica said softly.

"What goes around comes around," I said cynically. "She wasn't much of a mother, so how can anyone blame them for their attitudes."

"This Allison is different from other ones, yes?" Sophia asked.

"Very different," I assured her.

"Why?"

"I'm not certain," I shrugged. "All I know is that Allison is the best person I've ever known. If you don't want to meet her, she'll understand and never mention any of this to anyone, but she'll have a hole in her heart knowing she has family that she's never met. It's just the way she is."

"You care for her."

Sophia was too perceptive, her ears picking up on things normal people wouldn't hear.

"Yes," I replied curtly. "I can call her now and tell her I've found you or I can just leave and you can rest easily knowing we'll never darken your doorstep again. The decision is yours."

"Call her," Sophia said decisively.

"Mama..." Angelica began skeptically.

"I wish for us to speak," she stated calmly. "Call her now."

I punched the button on my speed dial, and waited while the phone rang a couple of times.

"Richard," Allison said breathlessly. "Sorry, I was in with Mother. Have you found out anything?"

"Talk to Sophia," I said shortly and handed Sophia my cell.

"I am Sophia," she spoke into the phone.

Getting up quietly, I moved to the front door and let myself out. I had done my part and the rest of it was none of my business. I walked down the road until I could no longer hear the conversation in the house, and then stopped abruptly, causing a collision with the person behind me.

"What the..." I turned around in surprise. "Shouldn't you be in the house?" I asked irritably. "She's your sister after all."

"And what is she to you?" Angelica asked softly.

That was a good question, and I had no answer. I shrugged.

"You were the man her parents wanted her to marry weren't you?" she guessed shrewdly.

"Does it matter?"

"I'm just trying to figure out why she would trust you with...all of this."

"Because it's pretty obvious you wouldn't trust me further than you could throw me, would you?"

"I...don't know," she admitted reluctantly.

"Well you won't have to worry about my unsavory character hanging around much longer," I grimaced. "My mission is complete. If your mother decides to let Allison visit, I'll make sure she arrives safely and then I'm out of here."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, looking down at her bare foot fidgeting with a rock on the ground.

"For what...?" I asked sarcastically. "Pouring scalding coffee on me and very possibly scarring me for life, accusing me of being a pedophile, sic'ing the whole town on me, almost shooting my foot off...have I missed anything? Just for the sake of clarity, exactly which one are you apologizing for?"

"All of it," she whispered.

"Look at me," I commanded.

She shook her head.

Grabbing her chin with my thumb and forefinger, I forced her head up repeating, "Look at me."

Her eyes flew up to my face...fear the predominant emotion.

"Do I really look so untrustworthy?" I asked angrily.

"You look like him," she said in a quietly accusing voice.

"Like who?"

"My father," she replied defiantly "and you know what he did to my mother."

"Your mother loved him," I reminded her gently.

"She shouldn't have," Angelica hissed furiously.

"We don't always have a choice about who we love," I returned cryptically, then continued, "So you think because I look somewhat like your father, I would act in the same manner that he did. That's a bit stereotypical don't you think."

"The way you look at me..." she broke off biting her lip.

"Ah...now we're getting somewhere," I nodded in satisfaction as I released her. "That's what this is all about isn't it? I saw other men in the diner admiring your...charms...but the moment I do it I'm the big bad wolf."

"That's different," she said defensively.

"Why?"

"Because they...I..."

"Because they...I...what?" I repeated mockingly.

"Because they don't mean anything by it," she answered indignantly.

"And I do?" I asked raising an eyebrow. "Apart from just now and the time I shoved you out of my room, I haven't touched you in even the most innocuous manner, yet you assume that I'm some type of leech. Guess I should add that to the list of things you should apologize to me for."

"But you said...you implied..." she stammered.

"I can't help it if you get offended at a little harmless flirting," I said contemptuously. "Minnie seemed to enjoy it."

"You...and Minnie," the shock on her face was comical, but I hid my amusement.

I felt a momentary twinge of guilt for the way I was treating Angelica, but I wanted her badly and with Allison likely to be there shortly I didn't have much time left. My frustration was getting the better of me.

"Jealous?" I suggested knowingly.

"But she's..."

Angelica was having trouble wrapping her mind around the thought of Minnie and me. I had to admit it was all I could do to keep from shuddering at the thought myself.

"What part of 'harmless flirting' do you not understand?" I asked derisively. "What a prude," I muttered as I stepped around her and began walking briskly towards the house.

I could hear Angelica following me, but I ignored her. All of my attempts to elicit an admission of attraction—flirting, insinuating, ignoring, taunting, and fencing words—had failed miserably. There was nothing left in my arsenal. As much as I hated giving up, I had to admit defeat. I had no clue what she wanted.

"How did it go?" I asked Sophia more abruptly than I intended as I reentered the house.

"She is coming," Sophia said smiling happily. "She call you soon."

Once again, Allison's charm had worked its magic...no surprise there.

"Good," I said curtly. "If you'll excuse me, I'll return to town and pack.

"You are leaving," Sophia frowned.

"As soon as I get Allison settled in."

"You come back sometime?" she asked hopefully.

"Allison will be more than enough company," I responded noncommittally. "Nice meeting all of you."

As I left, I admitted to myself that I wanted Angelica to come after me, give me some sort of sign that she was at all sorry to see me go, but there was nothing...I was alone on the pothole-filled road.

Sighing heavily in disappointment, I turned towards town.

Chapter 23

The Revelation

"You and I would make...how you say...beautiful music together, no?" I murmured huskily in Allison's ear with my best Italian accent.

"I'm sorry..."she began as she turned towards me. "Richard," she laughed "You idiot."

"Only you would say 'I'm sorry' so apologetically to a sleaze ball trying to pick you up in an airport," I mocked as Allison kissed me on the cheek in greeting.

"Oh Richard," she continued teary-eyed placing her hand on my arm, "I can't believe you actually found my sister."

"Thankfully, Samuel is the spitting image of your father," I shrugged. "Otherwise..."

I hadn't told her what had preceded my discovery, unwilling to go into any detail that might reveal to her my...problem...with her sister, just that I'd seen Samuel and followed him. I figured that was all she needed to know.

"And Angelica...?" she asked excitedly. "You didn't tell me much over the phone."

"She and her daughter Elizabeth look more like Sophia than Lowell," I commented indifferently. "So how was your flight?" I asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

Discussing the woman I wanted more than I'd ever wanted anyone, with the woman I had always hoped to marry, was more than I could handle.

"Humph," she said uncharacteristically miffed. "I'd rather not talk about that."

"Sounds interesting," I prodded gently. "Who or what could have possibly ruffled your normally placid feathers?"

"It was a 'who' and I'd rather not discuss it," she replied stiffly. "How long will it take us to get there tonight?"

Realizing we both had subjects we wanted to avoid, I decided to give her a break.

"Actually, I reserved us a suite," I informed her grinning wickedly.

"Richard..." she began reproachfully,

"Don't worry," I assured her chuckling, "you can have the bedroom. It's all they had on short notice, and I'm not about to drive those winding, curving roads in the middle of the night while I'm beat. We'll get an early start in the morning. I promise."

"You'll behave yourself?" she asked suspiciously.

"Scouts honor," I winked.

"Yeah, well, that only works if you actually were a boy scout," she shook her head in consternation.

"Allison," I said with unusual seriousness, "all I want to do is to fall into bed and sleep until noon, even though I know that's not going to happen, so while I might have the inclination, I don't have the energy, even if you did say 'yes', which you never do. You can trust me, you know."

"I'm sorry," she said contritely "I shouldn't have..."

"Oh yes you should have," I laughingly interrupted her. "I've certainly given you enough reason to, so no apologies, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled in relief. "Oh there it is," she added pointing towards the carousel which, unnoticed by us, must have begun moving while we were talking.

"I'll grab it."

I had only taken about five steps towards the carousel before colliding with a mountain of muscles clothed in black jeans and a black t-shirt.

"Sorry," I murmured in irritation glancing up a bit, expecting to meet his eyes, and then up even further craning my neck to look at the scarred giant.

"If you paid more attention to where you were going and less to your girlfriend..." the Goliath muttered, glaring down at me.

Unable to help myself, I replied cockily, "Can't blame a guy for being eager."

With a sound of disgust, the man turned abruptly, snatched his suitcase from the carousel, and strode angrily away.

"Wonder what his problem is," I grumbled as I retrieved Allison's luggage.

"What did that man want?" Allison asked with a strange expression on her face as I rejoined her.

"We barreled into each other, and he was rather adamant that it was my fault," I replied nonchalantly taking her arm with my free hand and leading her towards the exit.

"Oh," she seemed deflated.

"Do you know him?"

"No, of course not," she replied hastily. "So where are we staying?"

"At the Brown," I answered as I pushed the button on the remote to unlock the doors and open the trunk of the rental car.

"That's wonderful," she replied absently.

"They had a last minute cancellation and that's how I managed to get a suite," I added.

"Hmm..."

"Of course we could share the bedroom," I suggested attempting to recapture her attention, puzzled at her odd behavior.

"Wonderful," she smiled distractedly, glancing around.

"I'm sure we'll be extremely comfortable in the bed," I added eyeing her questioningly.

"Right," she agreed vaguely.

"We probably won't notice, though, being so preoccupied with other things," I suggested provocatively as I loaded the suitcase in the trunk.

"Right," she repeated frowning at something over my shoulder.

Following her line of sight, I noticed the muscled colossus from earlier pulling a set of keys out of his pocket as he crossed the road towards a huge black Hummer H2 SUT.

Figures, I thought sarcastically, a monster man would need a monster truck.

Allison opened the passenger side door, eyes still glued on the titan in black, obviously not listening to a word I was saying. As the man in black disappeared into the monster truck, her eyes met mine over the trunk and, as I closed it, she quickly turned away from me and slipped into the passenger seat of the car.

I slowly moved to join her as the Hummer sped past us, questions racing around in my head as I watched her stare after it with an odd expression on her face. Something was definitely up, but I knew better than to bug her about it.

Mentally shrugging it off, I decided that if she wanted me to know, she would eventually tell me. Meanwhile I had my own issues to ponder, and I could do without adding hers to the mix.

Sometime during the last couple of weeks a shift had occurred. When I'd greeted Allison in the airport, my reaction to her hadn't been the same as in the past. I was happy to see her, yes, but that was about it. No nervous stomach, no involuntary physical response, not even when she kissed me—granted it was on the cheek but that had never mattered before—no overwhelming desire to take her into my arms and crush my lips to hers...very strange indeed...

Instead, I had a hollow feeling somewhere in my midsection, as if something...or someone...was missing.

But Allison is the one you want to marry, you fool, I told myself sternly.

Why then did I feel as if I'd left a part of me behind in that hole-in-the-road town in which I'd spent the past couple of weekends?

Angelica, I said the name in silent anger. What has she done to me? I asked myself furiously. She's managed to emasculate me; that's what, I answered my own query wrathfully.

How had I let that happen? Just because one woman, okay two women, had been able to resist my charm, I was losing it.

No! I denied violently. That can't happen!

I knew what I needed. I would get Allison settled in the room and go in search of the hottest female creature I could find and I would prove...prove what...that I still had it? That I could interest any woman I wanted, that Angelica and Allison weren't the norm...that they were the abnormal ones.

Yes, that's what I'll do, I decided in relief as I exited the airport and pulled onto Pena. I'm gonna find me a woman.

~ * * ~

Thirty minutes and nothing, I noted to myself in disgust as I toyed with my Scotch.

It wasn't that I hadn't had...invitations...four by last count, but none of them stirred my interest. In frustration, I'd finally moved from the bar to a secluded table in a darkened corner of the room, watching people meeting and greeting, hooking up and rejecting, all with a despondent and jaded eye.

I noticed one extremely well-dressed dapper youngster somewhere in his mid twenties standing at the bar...a youthful version of me...casually taking in the 'possibilities' with a practiced eye, already at least five rejections to his name as he zeroed in on a woman who was inarguably the sexiest one in the joint.

She was a blonde, possibly even a natural blonde—either that or she had a very expensive hairdresser that she frequented once a week because not a dark root was showing—mid twenties, wearing a classy black form fitting sleeveless dress with a small string of pearls and matching earrings her only adornment. She was sitting two tables away from me...alone...drinking what appeared to be ginger ale.

Although she was the only female in the room that appealed to me, her appeal wasn't strong enough for me to do anything about it, so I contented myself with watching the smooth operator at the bar plan and execute his strategy.

I saw him turn to the bartender and knew he was asking what the lady was drinking.

Gonna have to be more original than that, I thought cynically.

Sure enough, the bartender turned back and reached for a glass identical to the blonde's, and filled it, handing it to the would be Casanova, the grin on his face clearly indicating his agreement with me that the man was about to be shot down...in flames...big time.

The confident smile on the man's face was his answer. Like me, he'd no doubt seldom if ever been turned down, his clothes spoke of money and his good looks were probably supplemented by an acquired or inherent boyish charm that was irresistible to most women.

Ready to be entertained, I was glad to be within earshot of the woman's table as he made his way over to her.

Setting the drink down next to her half empty glass, he asked smoothly, "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

I rolled my eyes and had to stifle a chuckle. Surely he could do better than that. I was never that corny. Or was I? Most of my exploits had become nothing more than a blur as I aged, there had been so many of them, and I had trouble remembering much about them or the women's names, if I'd even bothered to ask. Names hadn't overly concerned me.

Involuntarily, I leaned towards the table, inordinately interested in her answer.

"If you value your manhood, you will crawl back under the rock from whence you came," she offered in a beautifully casual, well-modulated voice, with no trace of any recognizable accent.

For a moment, the young man was taken aback, but then the fool decided she must be playing games and continued, "I simply wanted to buy a beautiful woman a drink. Is that such a crime?"

I shook my head at his idiocy. He might not realize that the woman was serious, but I did, and he was heading straight for trouble. The steel behind her words were obvious to anyone with half a brain.

"I am the one about to commit a crime when I cut your balls off with the knife I have strapped to my thigh," she continued conversationally.

"Strapped to your..." he began uncomprehendingly.

Laughing heartily, I could tell I suddenly had their undivided attention as both heads swiveled towards me in unison. I couldn't stand, or in my case sit, by and watch an innocent, albeit obtuse, man slaughtered just because he was a clueless idiot...besides the fact that I would truly hate to see someone that beautiful rotting away in a prison cell.

"Excuse me," I said as I rose from my table, depositing a healthy tip next to my still full shot glass "Sorry to interrupt your titillating conversation, but I'm a criminal defense attorney and should this brainless fool continue to bother you, and you feel compelled to...um...dismember him, give me a call. I'm quite sure I can get you off with a slap on the wrist," I finished flippantly tossing my business card onto her table and turning to leave. Pausing as if the thought had just occurred to me, I said "Oh, and by the way, unlike this witless wonder," I jerked my thumb towards the hapless man in question standing there with his mouth gaping, "that is not a pick up line. Please only use that number for legitimate business matters."

Chuckling to myself, I made my way out of the bar and to the elevator, whistling.

In my younger days, my parting line would have actually been a pickup line, but I was astonished to realize that I meant it. The woman had chutzpah, and I admired her, but that was all.

Pushing the button for the elevator, I made my way up to the suite Allison and I were platonically sharing with a strange kind of relief that I'd be sleeping alone.

Chapter 24

Almost...

"Mr. Stover," an exasperated voice broke into my thoughts. "Mr. Stover, your three o'clock is here."

"I'm sorry Tiffany, what were you saying?" I spun around, away from the huge picture window, to face the young office receptionist who was filling in for Martha while she was on vacation. "Um...yes...that would be..." I began to search the unaccustomed mess on my desk for the correct case file.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins with their son Jeffrey," she prompted immediately.

"Right," I replied trying to gather my wits "Give me ten minutes and then send them in."

"Yes sir," she acknowledged with a frown.

As the door shut behind her, I continued my haphazard search for the Jenkins file, finally succeeding. Sitting back in my chair, I quickly perused the case. Thankfully, it seemed fairly simple, a case of a teenage boy, a car, and a joy ride. First time offender, could probably get him off with a warning.

Concentrate, I told myself sternly, I have to concentrate.

And there was the rub; I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. Although it had been a couple of weeks since leaving Allison with her sister's family, the scene I'd had with Angelica right before I left town constantly replayed itself over and over again in my mind an ever present disturbance preventing me from functioning efficiently...or functioning at all, if I were to be brutally honest with myself.

Although Allison had made plans to stay for at least a week, she was unsure how the meeting with her new 'family' would go, and begged me to be there while they became acquainted. I knew everything would be fine, Allison was...Allison...and I had no doubt that they would all love her immediately, but I reluctantly agreed.

Knowing Angelica would be at the diner working, I drove Allison to see Sophia and the kids as soon as we arrived, weaving around the potholes as best I could, wishing I had rented an off-road four wheel drive vehicle instead of the luxury sedan I had mistakenly thought would be a good idea.

I should have known better, but my brain was apparently stuck in neutral.

Sophia had been hesitant and a bit suspicious at first, mostly because, from my description, she knew that Allison looked like her mother, and Sophia, having met Violet, knew what she was like, but it wasn't long before they were chatting like old friends. Samuel, of course, had never met a stranger, and even Elizabeth became practically verbose.

Although I'd made arrangements for Allison to stay at the B & B in town, and the house would be crowded, Sophia convinced her to stay with them. She attempted to cajole her into staying in the back room, which had been a porch at one time but had since been converted into a small bedroom for Samuel giving the little log cabin three bedrooms, but Allison flatly refused.

She agreed to stay as long as she slept on the couch, refusing to take either of the teenagers' rooms, claiming that they needed their privacy and she would not even consider crowding Angelica and Sophia in their small bedroom. In the end, a compromise...she would keep her things in Elizabeth's room, and sack out on the couch at night.

As soon as they settled their sleeping arrangements, I bid everyone a farewell and left, not wanting to be there when the two sisters met. I couldn't explain the odd feeling of reticence I experienced at the thought of seeing them together, but somehow I knew it would be unsettling to me and something I wished to avoid at all costs.

I was just level with the school, almost home free, when Angelica, in her pink waitress uniform, stepped out into the road in front of me.

Slamming on the brakes with a muffled oath, I couldn't stop the strange surge of emotions that filled me at the sight of her.

Jumping out of my car, allowing anger to swallow me, knowing that was the safest thing for me to feel, I confronted her demanding between clenched teeth "Are you nuts?"

"You're leaving?" she asked breathlessly, obviously having hurried to catch me before I slipped away.

"And...?" I prompted superciliously.

"When are you coming back?"

"If Allison needs me, she knows how to reach me."

"So you're not coming back?"

"Is there a reason I should?"

Angelica didn't reply.

"That's what I thought," I said in disgust moving back towards the car.

"Wait," she halted me. "I wanted to thank you for keeping our secret."

"I'm a lawyer," I replied without turning around, "it's what I do."

"Richard..."

I detected a pleading note in her voice, and felt my stomach leap at hearing her say my name for the first time.

With my hand reaching for the door handle, I hesitated for a brief second, and then spun around in irritation to face Angelica.

"What do you want from me?" I asked in exasperation.

"I...I...don't know," she stammered.

In two strides, I was directly in front of her, all of the sexual tension and frustration I had been feeling rising unbidden and unwelcomed to the surface as my right hand shot out and grabbed the nape of her neck yanking her towards me. As my left arm encircled her waist, my lips unerringly found hers, crushing them, all thoughts of gentleness and finesse overpowered by the swirl of ire, annoyance, and resentment that had been building in me ever since the day we first met.

I could feel her struggles as she tried to resist, and that served to wake me up to the fact that the woman I most desired in the world was in my arms and I was alienating her instead of wooing her. The thought that I might never get another chance spurred me into making a desperate attempt to elicit some sort of response.

Deliberately relaxing, I loosened my death grip and began gently caressing her body with my hands, her lips with mine, as desire began to take over. I could feel her body's unwilling response, and it fueled my passion. All coherent thought gone, my hands seemed to have developed a life of their own, and the only thing that existed for me was Angelica, her luscious red lips and sexy body, which had haunted me day and night and were mine for the taking.

"Where can we go?" I whispered huskily against her lips.

"What...?" she asked dazedly.

"Where can we go?" I repeated, attempting to rein in my impatience.

"Go...?"

As she pulled back from me slightly, I could see the glazed-over expression in her eyes. Mine were probably carbon copies.

"I don't intend to make love to you in a car," I replied pointedly.

"Make love..."

"Are you planning on repeating everything I say?" I asked in amusement, allowing my hands to continue exploring her body, reveling in the freedom.

"No," she whispered feebly, attempting to push me away.

"You know you want me as much as I want you," I murmured as my lips moved sensuously against her throat.

"No!"

Her voice had grown stronger as had her almost violent struggle to get away from me.

"No?" I asked sardonically, forcing myself to release her.

I was no rapist and, unlike some men, totally because of Allison I was sure, I had always believed that a woman's 'no' meant 'no' although, admittedly, I had never heard that word from any woman other than Allison until I'd met Angelica.

"I can't," she anguished.

She stood there panting, as if she'd just completed a marathon, chest heaving, the top couple of buttons undone—I must have done that—hair cascading around her shoulders.

I'd always wanted to see her hair down, and the thought must have been father to the action because there was no trace of any of the hair clips that had been holding the bun in place. I vaguely remembered tossing something into the grass on the side of the road.

"Oh I don't know," I drawled sarcastically, "you were giving a pretty good imitation."

"You don't understand," she said tearfully.

"Explain it to me," I suggested, folding my arms in front of me.

"I...you...it would be wrong," she finally managed to get out.

I snorted in disbelief.

"Felt right to me."

"But we're not married," she burst out.

"Ah...I get it," I acknowledged cynically. "You're angling for a ring on your finger."

"What...? No...that's not what I..." she stuttered in shock.

"Well, I've already lived that hell, and I don't plan on a repeat performance," I said in distaste as I turned to leave. "See ya around."

I got in the car and sped through town so quickly that the buildings were nothing but a blur. Or maybe they were a blur because I was blinded by rage.

Whatever the reason, I had never experienced the emotional tug of war that was playing havoc with my insides as I headed back to Austin, even after I'd lost Allison, and as I sat there in my office waiting for the...what were their names again? Oh yeah, Jenkins...I could feel that it hadn't eased at all.

The knock on the door brought me abruptly back to the present. I needed to focus on the job at hand. The...I glanced at the file once more...Jenkins family deserved my full attention, but I hoped they would settle for less as I welcomed them into my office.

Chapter 25

Dilemma

"Mrs. Wilson is on line three."

Martha's calm voice over the intercom was a welcome sound after suffering through Tiffany for a week. I'd only been half-joking when I'd informed Martha on her return, that she would never be allowed to go on vacation again.

"Thank you, Martha," I replied serenely.

As I lifted the receiver and punched the button for line three, I wondered what could have prompted Allison to call me during business hours. We had just talked Sunday—she made a habit of calling me on the weekends to check on her mother, feeling guilty of course that she wasn't able to visit Violet while in Colorado—and she tried not to bother me at all during the week...not that I minded.

"Allison," I said teasingly "didn't get enough of me Sunday?"

"I'm so sorry to bother you at work but there was no one else we could turn to and Samuel is in so much trouble and Angelica had to go try to help..."

"Whoa...hold on...slow down," I interrupted abruptly. "Take a deep breath."

I heard her attempting to comply with my instructions on the other end of the line and then asked, "What type of trouble is Samuel in and where did Angelica go?"

"Samuel has been arrested and taken to the county seat so Angelica went to try to bail him out, but they are holding him without bail and..."

"What are the charges?" I asked perplexed, wondering what he could have possibly done that was bad enough to keep him incarcerated.

"They're saying he killed his girlfriend," Allison whispered in horror.

"What happened?"

"She was found...dead...on the school playground," she seemed to be having difficulty forcing the words out. "She was on the merry-go-round."

"How did it happen?" I asked dispassionately, the defense attorney in me taking over automatically.

"How did she get on the merry-go-round?"

"No," I said as kindly as I could, realizing Allison had a very slim hold on her coherency, "how was she killed?"

"She was strangled," she whispered. "They found a small nylon rope still wrapped around her neck."

Angelica would be beside herself. Allison was, and she hadn't even been there a month. Although I barely knew him, I had a hard time believing that the Samuel I'd met could be capable of murder, especially one where he would have to watch as his victim, a girl he had supposedly cared about, was slowly drained of life.

From my many years of experience as a criminal defense attorney, I knew there were some crimes of passion that were easier for a 'good' person to commit while in the throes of an overpowering emotion, but strangulation, actually squeezing the life out of someone, was not one of them. In order for someone to actually kill another in that manner, the act had to be sustained over a longer period of time then, say, a gunshot, which was over in a split second.

Plus the fact that strangling someone, especially with some type of instrument like a cord or rope or even a plastic bag or pillow was usually premeditated, and I couldn't picture Samuel planning something so horrific.

"Do they have any actual physical evidence tying him to the crime scene?" I asked patiently.

"The rope..." Allison's voice broke.

"What about the rope?" I prompted gently.

"The rope had his fingerprints on it," she continued miserably.

"How could that be?"

"Because it was his rope," Allison admitted disconsolately. "They searched the house and found nothing so they went out back to the shed and there was the rest of the rope. He fishes a lot and uses it as a stringer."

"Okay," I said as noncommittally as I could manage, even though it was beginning to look bad for Samuel. "Does he have an alibi? Something that might help prove he wasn't there?"

"They can prove he was there."

Allison was having a rough time thinking clearly and pulling information out of her was worse than pulling teeth.

"How?"

"Because he's the one who reported it," she finished, as she burst into tears.

~ * * ~

"At least there's a decent hotel here," I muttered to myself as I threw my suitcase on the bed.

I felt rumpled and worn out and, even as uncomfortable as hotel beds generally were, I still glanced at it longingly realizing that it would be hours and hours before I could fall into it and give way to the bone tired weariness gripping me.

The phone call the previous afternoon had put a whole slew of things into motion. It hadn't been easy to accomplish everything that I needed to get done in the short time available before my early morning flight the next morning, the only one I could find, so sleep had been in short supply while I desperately prepared my cases to be handed over to various junior associates.

I had managed to snatch about two hours of that precious commodity in the wee hours of the morning and dozed a bit on the plane, but I had to fight to stay awake and alert.

Decisively, I opened my suitcase and yanked out a suit, hanging it in the bathroom as I disrobed quickly and jumped into a steaming shower. Time was of the essence, I realized, but my sluggish wouldn't help, and I wanted to help Samuel more than I'd ever wanted to help anyone for a couple of reasons. Number one, I couldn't bear the thought of Angelica losing her son and number two, I knew he was innocent.

Instead of driving immediately to the county seat to see Samuel, I had visited the scene of the crime as well as the shed behind Sophia's house. The murder scene had been compromised, as I suspected it would be, and didn't offer me anything in the way of hope, but the shed, that was a different story.

I found no hard evidence, but enough to convince me that someone had framed Samuel. Sophia admitted that they never locked the shed, there had never been a need, and that anyone could have entered without a problem, but I wasn't interested in the shed itself. The local law enforcement would have already tainted any evidence there, and I knew that whoever had framed Samuel would have been too smart to leave traces of him, or her, self conveniently lying around in the shed.

My interest lay in the areas around the shed. I doggedly searched for hours—ever widening the circle of my investigation—as I moved away from the shed, until...success...I finally found what I was looking for.

I had taken pictures with my cell phone—I knew it probably wouldn't help me with Samuel's case, but I knew Samuel and Angelica would be relieved that I truly believed he was innocent—in the hopes that I could convince his defense counsel that there was at least an even chance he hadn't committed the crime of which he was being accused.

Apparently, the lawyer assigned to the case wanted him to plead guilty and hope for leniency, as it was a crime of passion. Since Samuel would have had to take the rope with him in order to strangle the girl with it, proving no premeditation would be nearly impossible.

There were many things that didn't add up, and I intended to prove that all they had was circumstantial evidence and no actual proof that Samuel was the one who had done the deed. I realized, being from Texas, I could not actually represent Samuel, but I planned to convince his current counsel that he was innocent, and help in whatever way possible.

I was not going to see Angelica's only son hang for a crime he hadn't committed.

Dressing meticulously, I checked out my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Satisfied that I projected the correct image, I returned to the bedroom, picked up my briefcase, and headed down to the lobby.

~ * * ~

"I didn't do it," Samuel uttered with unquestionable anguish and sincerity as soon as I seated myself across from him in the gray chair at the gray table in the dingy, bare, gray room.

Samuel's customary smile in abeyance, he continued pleadingly, "You have to believe me."

I motioned for his appointed attorney to take a seat at the end of the table, my stern glance reminding him of his promise to remain silent. He had been very hard to convince that Samuel might possibly be innocent and I could see that he still didn't buy into my theory, but even though he had insisted on being present, I needed him to simply shut up and listen with an open mind.

I was confident I could get the truth out of Samuel.

"I've read your statement, Samuel," I said coldly. "You're hiding something. There are holes in your story I could drive a semi through."

He bit his lip in consternation, but said nothing.

"Either you did it," I steeled myself against his flinch, determined to get the truth out of him no matter the cost, "or else you are protecting someone else."

"I can't..." he began then clamped his mouth shut.

"Then you'll swing," I shrugged nonchalantly as I made to rise, "and I've traveled all this way for nothing."

"Please..." his voice cracked and I could see he was fighting tears.

I resumed my seat and asked abruptly, "Who are you protecting?"

When I received no response, I slammed my hand down on the table and with raised voice reiterated, "Who?"

"Darcy," he whispered.

"Darcy?" I repeated disbelievingly, hiding my puzzlement. "The dead girl...? What did she do...strangle herself?" I asked sarcastically.

"She made me promise...I swore I wouldn't tell no matter what," he choked out. "She trusted me to keep her secret."

"Well she's dead so I hardly think that matters now."

I was being brutal, but if I couldn't get Samuel's cooperation he had no hope in hell of being acquitted.

"I guess," he acknowledged, defeat bowing his head. "She was...seeing someone...someone her parents wouldn't have approved of."

Ah...now we are getting somewhere, I could feel my whole body relaxing slightly.

"Why would they have disapproved of the boy?"

"That was just it, he wasn't a boy...he was a grown man," Samuel looked me directly in the eye, "around your age from what she said and old enough to be her father."

"You never met him?"

"I saw him once," he admitted "at a distance. I was...spying on her...but I was worried. She was my best friend."

"Did she tell you his name?"

"She called him Andre, but wouldn't tell me his last name. Maybe she didn't know it."

"How long had this been going on?"

"A while," he shrugged. "I'm not sure exactly how long...a year, maybe more."

"Can you describe him?"

"He was about your size, except skinnier, with blonde hair and he dressed a lot like you, all fancy and rich in suits and stuff. That day in the hamburger joint, you know, that day you followed me home, I thought you might be him, but you don't really look like him and I'm pretty sure he's older than you. Besides he's French."

"You heard his voice?"

"No," he shook his head "Darcy told me that. She thought it was romantic that he spoke to her in French even though she couldn't understand any of it. She thought she was in love with him."

"Did she give you any idea of where he lived or where he was staying?"

"He'd been lying to her," Samuel leaned forward eagerly the first animation I had seen from him since entering the room. "He told her he was a reporter from Denver doing a story on Mr. Donne, you know, the author my mom works for, but Mr. Donne is fanatical about his privacy. He wanted to question the locals, but was afraid no one would talk to him."

"He was probably right," I agreed sardonically remembering my own experience.

"Darcy was always asking me for information about Mr. Donne, but I couldn't tell her much, Mom never talked about him."

"Why?" I asked wondering jealously if they were indeed lovers as I first suspected.

"Mr. Donne pays her a lot of money to keep quiet about him," Samuel said soberly. "That's all I know. I hope she doesn't lose her job over this."

Trying to get us back on track, I stifled the unproductive emotions and continued, "You said she knew he had been lying to her. About what and how did she discover it?"

"When he left her Saturday night, the weekend before she was...killed...she followed him to his car," he informed me. "She'd never done that before but some things weren't making sense and she was afraid he was seeing someone else. When he left town, he took the road to the cemetery instead of heading towards Denver, so she ran after him and got there just in time to see his taillights heading south from the crossroads. She walked for miles and finally came to an old broken down shack. She saw his car parked in front so she knew he was in there. She peeked in the window and was glad he was alone. He was just sitting there at the table cleaning some sort of...musical instrument. She knew something was wrong or he wouldn't have been lying to her, and she planned to break it off, but was afraid to confront him out in the middle of nowhere."

"Was Darcy meeting this Andre the night she was killed?"

"Yes," he whispered. "I always picked her up at her house on Saturday night just after dark and then left her at the playground. A couple of hours later I would meet her at the...the..." his voice broke and tears began streaming down his face.

"Merry-go-round," I supplied unemotionally wondering detachedly what the sudden commotion in the corridor outside the interrogation room indicated.

Samuel nodded, swiping at his nose with the back of his right sleeve as the commotion grew louder and a beautiful, dark-headed virago burst into the room.

"What are you doing here?" Angelica demanded shaking off the arms that were still futilely trying to detain her.

"Saving your son's ass," I replied mildly as I stood and snapped my briefcase shut.

"We don't want you here," she hissed at me.

"I think your son's counsel may disagree with you," I shrugged, pretending nonchalance.

She was incredible, more beautiful than I remembered, and I desperately needed to leave before my body betrayed my mind and I lost all my carefully constructed control in front of witnesses.

"I will be in touch," I nodded to the lawyer who returned my nod a bit dazedly.

I wasn't sure whether his glazed look was because of Angelica's distracting presence or the things he had just heard, but I hoped she hadn't totally addled his brain and he would remember what Samuel had admitted.

"Be sure you get Samuel's new statement taken and admitted into evidence."

"Mr. Stover," Samuel ventured timidly, "I didn't do it."

"I never thought you did," I returned kindly as I pushed my way passed Angelica and the two guards who had been helpless to stop her.

She is truly magnificent, I thought as I made my way to the exit.

Chapter 26

Could I Be Any More of a Jerk?

"Call me if they come up with anything, no matter what time it is."

I heard Margaret's absentminded murmur of agreement before we hung up, but I wasn't fooled. She had taken down everything I said meticulously and would see that all that could be done would be done in the search to find the French speaking man known only as Andre. Although it was much like looking for a needle in a haystack, I couldn't afford to leave any stone unturned.

Back on the phone, I was in the middle of a conversation with Allison, when a knock sounded at my door.

"Hold on, Allison," I said in exasperation. "Someone's at the door."

"I have to go," Allison said hurriedly, "just call me when you leave there so we know when to expect you."

"Okay, talk to you in a bit," I snapped the phone shut irritably and jerked open the door.

"Hi," Angelica offered apprehensively.

"What now?" I asked wearily.

"I came to apologize," Angelica murmured, "And to ask you to stay and help my...baby," her voice broke on the last word and I could hear the sobs rising up in her throat.

Gently taking her arm, I guided her into the room and shut the door. Turning her towards me, I put my arms around her, pulled her close, and allowed her to shed tears all over my designer suit.

"I'm sorry," she said after a few minutes, pushing away from me. "I always seem to be ruining your clothing."

"I'll survive," I replied flippantly. "So now you want me to stay?"

"Samuel's lawyer told us about the footprints you found near the shed that led to the road where you figured a car had been waiting," Angelica said hopefully. "And you are the only one who was able to get Samuel to open up and tell the whole truth. I would be a fool to send you away," she admitted reluctantly. "Will you forgive my...bad behavior...and stay to help us?"

"The footprints prove nothing," I reminded her.

"I know," she conceded quickly "the lawyer told me, but the other things Samuel told you...surely that will help."

"If we can find the man," I shrugged. "He's probably long gone by now. Plus the fact that we only have Samuel's word that the man even existed."

"So you're not going to do anything about it?"

"I didn't say that," I corrected. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up."

"In case Samuel..." she stopped. "But he's innocent, and you said you believed him, I heard you."

"What I believe and what a jury will believe based on the available evidence are frequently two different things."

I didn't stop to analyze why I was being so harsh to Angelica, but then again it probably wouldn't have taken much analysis. The sexual tension I felt every time she was near seemed to bring out the worst in me. I didn't want it to, but I couldn't seem to help it.

"If he's found guilty they could..."

"Yes, Colorado has the death penalty and it is possible, with the nature of the crime that they might..."

"Not my baby," Angelica fell to her knees in anguish her hands clasped over her heart. "Not my baby..."

"Pull your self together," I said cruelly turning away. "Histrionics are a waste of time."

"I don't care what Allison says," she glared up at me angrily, "you don't care about anyone but yourself."

"And why should I?"

Spinning back around to face her, I reached down and grasping her upper arm jerked her to her feet.

"What has that overused and sappy term called 'love' ever done for anybody except cause pain? Hmm...?"

"It's what makes life worth living," she whispered.

"Pardon me if I beg to differ," I contradicted heartlessly. "Emotional melodrama leaves me cold."

"You love Allison," Angelica ventured uncertainly.

"Do I?" I laughed without humor.

"You told her you did."

"Did she say that?"

"Not in so many words..."

"Love is just a more politically correct way to verbalize lust."

"I love my children," she protested. "That has nothing whatsoever to do with lust."

"Oh yeah, that strange attachment women seem to develop for their offspring," I said callously. "My ex-wife had that same fixation when she gave birth. In my book, motherhood is hardly a shining testimonial for that fairy tale people have labeled 'love'. It's just an excuse humans use in order to get away with normally unacceptable things."

"I don't know what you mean," she knitted her brow, perplexed. "What things?"

"The man I defended last year who killed his wife and her lover in a jealous rage when he found them together did it for 'love'," I informed her harshly. "The cheerleader's mother who killed her daughter's rival years ago did it for 'love'. The girl who killed her lover's wife did it for 'love'. Need I go on?"

"But that's not true love," she objected.

"Of course it isn't," I agreed roughly "because there is no such thing. It's a word man made up to cover his multitude of sins hoping to get away with them."

"You can't really believe that," she whispered. "You can't possibly be that totally devoid of human emotion."

"Oh I have emotions, all types of emotions, but I don't label any of them as 'love' any longer. I thought I loved Allison and wanted to marry her," I admitted in a low intense tone "but you tell me how that's supposed to work. How could I love one woman and make 'love' to scores of other women all at the same time? Is that the way it's supposed to work? Even if she had agreed to marry me, I doubt I would have been able to reign in my lust for other women. Hell, I would have even cheated on her with her half-sister. So now, answer your own question. Am I capable of what you sentimentally refer to as love?"

Angelica's eyes grew wide with shock.

"Right now I want nothing more than to throw you on that bed and make violent and passionate 'love' to you. I want you more than I've ever wanted any woman in my life, and that's saying something. No other woman has existed for me since I first laid eyes on you, not even Allison, but it's not 'love'...it is simply pure unadulterated lust. As soon as I'd had my fill of you, I would have bought you an expensive diamond bauble, dumped you, and moved on to the next incredibly sexy woman. Since you're apparently not interested in that type of relationship, I strongly suggest that you stay as far away from me as possible, because the next time you come to my room alone, I'm going to assume that's a yes and act on it accordingly."

I couldn't bear the crushed, lost puppy dog look in her eyes as tears flowed down her cheeks, so I turned toward the window saying unpleasantly "If you're still here in thirty seconds, I will take that as a yes, also."

Two seconds later, I heard the door open and shut quietly. I didn't have to turn to know I was alone in the room.

Chapter 27

The Plot Thickens

"Well, someone certainly was living here," the Sheriff said heavily, "but just as you suspected, it looks fairly deserted now."

"That would have been too easy," I agreed ruefully. "Is there any way to match the footprints around here with the ones I found close to Sophia's shed?" I asked knowing the answer but feeling compelled to ask it anyway.

"I doubt it," he replied skeptically, "but we can try. It looks like he covered his tracks pretty well."

"Just like he did around the shed," I grimaced.

"I'll have the men do what you did there," the Sheriff offered, "Spread out and gradually widen the circle around the shack and see if they can come up with something. Other than that, it looks like these tire treads are all we have to go on."

"And he could have already ditched the car," I acknowledged bitterly. "For all we know he might have stolen it."

"True," the Sheriff agreed reluctantly.

"So no one else in town saw anyone that matches Andre's description?"

"Nope," he shook his head regretfully. "If this Andre character does exist, he was very careful to stay hidden."

"Not careful enough," I murmured. "He was either careless or stupid when he allowed Darcy to follow him here, and I don't believe he's stupid. I think he underestimated her and the hold he had over her so he never suspected she would doubt him. Somehow, though, he must have figured it out before he met her that night, because he had to have time to plan the frame-up of Samuel."

"Maybe a phone call or something?" he offered hopefully.

"I don't think so, that would be too easy to trace," I replied thoughtfully. "From what I was able to get from Samuel, they always met on Saturday night after dark at the playground so it sounds like it was just their regular prearranged meeting. Somehow he figured out that she was getting suspicious, but not until after she followed him here."

"Sounds plausible," the Sheriff nodded, "but proving it..."

"Did you search Darcy's bedroom?" I asked as a sudden thought occurred to me.

"We did," he assured me. "We didn't find anything, even on her computer diary thing, whatever they call it."

"Her blog," I supplied smiling. I'd had enough teenage clients that I needed to keep up with current terminology just to do my job. "If it was a big secret, she wouldn't have advertised her boyfriend online, but most girls have to tell someone."

"That's why she told the Maxwell kid," the Sheriff pointed out.

"Right, but that was only so he would help her," I reminded him absently.

I wasn't sure what I was getting at, but somehow I instinctively knew that girls needed to confide intimate details to someone...or something...and Darcy hadn't done that with Samuel, so a handwritten diary hidden somewhere in her room seemed the most likely candidate. I had nothing to back it up, but somehow I was sure.

"Could we take one more look around Darcy's bedroom?"

"You think you'll find something we missed?" he asked doubtfully.

"I think I might," I shrugged. "What could it hurt to try?"

"I'll talk to Darcy's parents."

"Thanks," I said gratefully as my cell phone rang and I moved away to answer it. Glancing at the screen it read 'Private Caller'.

"Interesting," I murmured as I flipped it open and barked "Stover," into the phone.

"We need to meet," a sultry voice informed me.

"And you are...?"

"I have something you want, Mr. Stover," the sexy female voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"As intriguing as that sounds..." I was interrupted by a delightfully musical laugh.

"You're very attractive, I admit, but this is a legitimate business matter I assure you," she said lightly. "Or was that in actuality nothing more than a cleverly disguised pick up line after all? If so, then I admit to being severely disappointed in you."

"Ah...the extremely sexy blonde with the knife taped to her thigh," I chuckled in relief. "I must say, that does paint a rather inviting albeit dangerous picture."

"Inviting enough to motivate you to hop in your car and drive to Denver to meet me?" she asked archly.

"Regretfully, I don't have the time, energy, or inclination for a dalliance right now."

"As I said," she reminded me, "this is purely business."

"I'm not licensed to practice..."

"Does the name Samuel Maxwell ring any bells," she interrupted abruptly.

"What do you know about Samuel?"

I was putting two and two together and I didn't like the answers I was coming up with. A sexy blonde in Denver obviously waiting for someone...a sleek, debonair Frenchman claiming to be from Denver...it didn't bode well for me. I was the only one finding any actual clues that might point to Samuel's innocence, and the Frenchman was obviously not averse to getting his hands dirty.

My chances of surviving a meeting with the Frenchman's blonde bombshell girlfriend didn't look good.

"Not what is obviously going through your mind right now," she said amusedly. "I have information for you, but I need something in return that only you can give me."

"And what is that?"

"Your cooperation," she replied simply. "I will see you tonight at the regular time at our regular table," she finished coyly, "don't be late."

"The Wilders said it was okay to come over," the Sheriff interrupted my musings as I stood staring at the phone in my hand as if it had suddenly turned into a snake. "They don't want to believe it was the Maxwell boy anymore than you seemed to want to, so they're more than willing to cooperate."

"The Wilders...?" I asked bemused.

"Darcy's folks...say are you alright?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," I assured him pulling myself together. "Let's go."

~ * * ~

"My men have already searched the room, you know," the Sheriff reminded me for the twentieth time.

"So you've said," I chuckled. "But they weren't searching for something a teenager didn't want found," I returned with a reminder of my own.

"You really think she kept an old-fashioned diary in this day and age?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yep," I replied shortly surveying the neatly kept room.

His men either hadn't disturbed anything in their cursory search, or else Darcy's mother had put everything back in its place.

"Where do we start?"

"If you were searching a suspect's room for drugs, where would you look?"

"Good point," he nodded in agreement. "The mattresses, any loose floorboards, something taped to the back of the mirror, behind or under the dresser or the dresser drawers..."

"Exactly," I said triumphantly. "Did your men search any of those places?"

"There was no need," he shrugged. "We thought."

"I don't want to leave a mess behind for Darcy's parents, but if you would..." I indicated the room with a sweep of the hand. "I'll look through all of her books, she was apparently an avid reader, and you begin wherever you think best."

The Sheriff delicately commenced his search, trying to leave things as undisturbed as possible, his heart obviously not in it, while I surveyed her bookshelf. I stood reading the titles, hoping to divine what type of person she was and where she would have gotten her ideas about hiding important things.

Darcy had been a big fan of romance novels, no surprise there. I noted a few...Gone With the Wind, Pride and Prejudice, The Thorn Birds, The Wolf and the Dove...classics as well as some of the more modern novels, including quite a few novels by I. M. Donne, Angelica's employer.

I was about to start dragging the books off of the shelves when I noticed that she had two hardback copies of the Diary of Anne Frank, one of the few books lining her shelves that was not considered a romance, and one had a jacket, the other didn't.

It couldn't be that easy, could it? I asked myself skeptically, but I knew it could.

She may have been intelligent, but she was still just a teenager. Taking down the one that was jacket-protected, I slowly opened to the first page. It was a diary alright, but not the one the cover proudly proclaimed. Darcy, it seemed, possessed a sense of irony.

Realizing I would have to turn it over to the Sheriff and might never see it again, I quickly skimmed and scanned the pages. The first half of the diary was all about her hopes and fears along with doubts about herself. She had been a rather insecure teenager, nothing unusual there, and would have been easy prey for someone with a world of experience.

The last half was filled with Andre. At first Andre was romantic and sweet and they talked about their future together once she graduated and could legally make her own decisions, but then she started writing about how Andre was pumping her for information about the author, Donne—claiming he was a freelance reporter from Denver looking for a story—along with what little she had been able to tell him.

The words 'Mrs. Maxwell' caught my eye, and I backed up a bit to reread the part of the diary preceding them in order to get the context. He'd apparently been extremely interested in the relationship between Donne and Angelica.

Him and me both, I conceded grudgingly.

No longer skimming and scanning, I was reading avidly, hoping Darcy had been correct when she'd informed Andre that Samuel was certain there was nothing going on between the two of them. I quietly heaved a sigh of relief, and continued perusing the book.

Towards the end of the diary, she mostly wrote about how she was becoming suspicious about Andre's penchant for secrecy, almost to the point of paranoia.

At first, she thought he might have a disorder of some sort, but things weren't adding up, and she began to suspect he was being less than honest with her.

She bought a French dictionary, and tried to figure out what he was saying when he was whispering French words in her ears, and was shocked to discover that some of the words he used were horribly rude and demeaning. He was calling her a fool and an idiot, all the while appearing to be whispering endearments.

The last couple of pages interested me the most. She told how she followed Andre to his cabin and watched him for over two hours lovingly cleaning his instrument, some sort of unusual flute, only returning to her own home after he finally turned out the lights, presumably to sleep.

Her last entry was something Samuel had not known. She went back the next day but the cabin was deserted and she was left to wonder if she would see him again. She planned to meet him as usual at the playground on the following Saturday, but was unsure if he would even show and, if he did, how she should handle the meeting.

One idea was to just break it off without giving any reason other than she wasn't interested in him any longer, but the other more dangerous idea she had was to confront him with his lies and see how he reacted.

There was no indication in the diary which course she had decided to pursue.

Closing the diary with a sigh, I realized that whichever approach she chose, it was irrelevant by that point. He knew she had followed him.

My guess was that he made a practice of surveying the area surrounding the cabin looking for traces of unwanted visitors, and noticed her tracks. Her death warrant had been signed, sealed, and delivered from the moment she made the decision to shadow him.

I was a bit stymied at the whole flute thing. Was the killer some frustrated musician with an ax to grind? Or had he realized he'd been followed, and was attempting to appear innocuous by performing a harmless routine for his unwelcome spy?

I had nothing but speculation, and that was getting me nowhere.

"I found it," I called softly to the Sheriff who had finished searching the dresser and mirror as well as checking for loose floorboards, and was eyeing the bed with misgivings, obviously unwilling to tear into the mattress.

His exhalation of relief was audible, as it exploded out of him.

"So, did you find out anything?" he asked as I handed it to him.

"Me?" I asked innocently.

The old-fashioned look he threw me spoke volumes.

"My guess is that the defense counsel will be very happy with your find," I replied truthfully.

"Well, then, I suppose I should get this into the correct hands," he turned to leave. "Thanks for your...cooperation."

"Anytime," I grinned at his retreating back.

Chapter 28

If Only...

Entering the pub, I didn't even glance around the smoke-filled room but immediately headed for the bartender and ordered two ginger ales. He glanced at me and then at a spot beyond my left shoulder, shrugged, and moved to get the drinks muttering what sounded like "your funeral."

Placing them on the bar, he unobtrusively slipped the bill I'd left lying on the counter into his hand and turned to wait on the next customer.

Carrying the two drinks over to the table, I set them down and asked roguishly, "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"Waiting for you," the blonde bombshell answered throatily.

She was wearing the exact same thing as the last time I'd seen her.

Stifling my chuckle, I pulled out a chair and asked, "May I?"

She nodded.

"So no references to the rock I crawled out from under or imminent threats against my manhood?" I asked wryly as I seated myself.

"I think I'll let you keep yours," she answered after pretending to ponder.

"Thanks," I replied drily.

"Dance with me," she said abruptly as she stood and grabbed my hand, dragging me toward the small dance floor, leaving our full glasses untouched.

"That's what I like," I murmured in her ear as I pulled her close, "A woman who's not afraid to take the lead."

"The man you are looking for is Anthony Fairchild," she whispered softly near my cheek and then began planting kisses along the side of my neck.

"Anthony...not Andre?" I murmured gently in her ear.

Taking my cue from her, I began nibbling on her earlobe around the pearl earring.

"He is British, but has many aliases. You won't find him."

"And why is that?"

"Because he doesn't wish to be found," she fleetingly pressed her lips against mine as she spoke.

"What is he after?" I asked, lips leaving hers to move along her jaw line.

"Surely you can guess from what the boy told you."

"How do you know what the boy told me," I asked curiously, as I began working my way down her throat.

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that information," she replied primly totally at odds with her sexy posturing.

"Apparently our friend Andre seemed inordinately interested in the resident author..."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm not at liberty..."

"To divulge that information," I finished for her. "What are you FBI...CIA...?"

"Something like that."

"So, do you have a name or is that classified, too?"

"You can call me...Al," she said hesitantly.

"Funny you don't look or feel like any Al I've ever met," I returned amusedly running my hands over her hips and waist, gently caressing her body. "Not that I've ever touched any other Al," I admitted chuckling. "So, Al, what about the kid being charged with murder?"

"He'll get off," she assured me moving her lips back to mine. "Just be patient and try not to stir up too much trouble."

"Ah...and that's the cooperation you mentioned," I said as the true reason for our meeting became clear.

"We have an operation in place and can't afford for you to jeopardize it by...helping the local authorities too much. Oh, and you need to forget about the instrument the boy mentioned in his statement."

"And I'm supposed to trust you because..." I murmured against her hair wondering why the 'instrument' was so important.

"If I was the bad guy you'd already be dead," she answered simply.

"Good point," I grinned. "Since you seem to be leading this dance, what happens next?"

"We go back to my hotel room, wait a suitable interval, and then you leave. I'm sure we can find something interesting to do to pass the time," she said suggestively as she traced my lips with her tongue.

"Very original," I commented ironically.

Although we were acting parts, I knew women and could feel Al becoming a bit more interested in me than I was in her and I had no intention of encouraging that attraction even though I was positive she'd be sheer dynamite in bed. If only I'd met her before....

"You have a better idea?" she asked sounding slightly miffed at my rejection of her less than original brainstorm.

"Yep," I replied confidently. "Try not to permanently maim me," I continued ambiguously grabbing ample amounts of lusciously curved derriere in both hands and squeezing lecherously as I jerked her body to mine and held it there as tightly as was physically possible.

"Why you...you..." she began convincingly as she pushed me away and gave my face a resounding slap that echoed through the whole tavern before storming off.

Standing there on the dance floor all alone, the cynosure of all eyes, I rubbed the left side of my face tenderly as I stared after her.

If that's holding back, I never want to be present when she's giving it all she's got, I thought ruefully.

~ * * ~

"Where have you been?" the voice behind me demanded angrily.

"Nag...nag...nag," I stuck my key in the lock without turning around.

"It's four o'clock in the morning," Angelica informed me in a frosty tone.

I pushed open my door, tossed my discarded suit coat into the room, and moved to face her slowly.

"And your point is...?" I asked with feigned politeness.

"Samuel was arraigned yesterday and you were gone and now he's going to be tried for murder and I...I...don't know what I'm going to do," although she had begun her tirade in an angry voice, I could barely hear the whispered ending as she buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.

I was too tired to sort out the mix of emotions running through me and so I instinctively gave in to the urge to pull her once more into my arms and allow her to weep all over me. Luckily, it was only my white shirt she was ruining as I had shed my suit coat a few miles outside of Denver.

Against my better judgment, I gently led her into my room, closing the door behind us. I didn't know how long she'd been waiting for me, but I suspected she had gotten no more sleep than I had over the past few days, and that exhaustion was probably the reason she couldn't seem to stop crying.

I sat down on the bed with her still in my arms, and eventually she quieted down. After a few minutes of silence, I noticed that she, of all things, had fallen asleep.

Guess I'm not as stimulating as I thought, I grinned tiredly as I lay back on the bed taking the sleeping woman in my arms with me.

There'll be hell to pay in the morning, but I'm too tired to care was my last thought as I drifted off.

~ * * ~

I awoke thinking I must be having a heart attack, the weight on my chest making breathing more difficult than usual, and cursing the lifestyle that had lead to my early demise. I waited for the pain to come, but strangely enough, nothing happened.

Opening one eye carefully, I was relieved to discover that I was not in the middle of a major medical crisis. Instead, the sexiest woman I'd ever met was sprawled across my chest sound asleep.

Resisting the urge to take advantage of the slumbering woman innocently spread-eagled on top of me, I determinedly moved out from under her, using extreme care as I readjusted Angelica's position in order to ease her discomfort without touching her in places likely to cause me discomfort.

Once upright, I stood watching her for a few moments, debating which action would cause the least amount of anger on her part.

There was no doubt in my mind that she would be angry, exceedingly angry, when she awoke to find herself in my bed, the only question was what I could do to ease that anger a bit.

The dispute in my head became moot as Angelica began to stir and her eyes popped open. My only thought as I braced myself for the storm I could see raging in her eyes was at least I wasn't in the bed with her when she awoke. She could very well have ended up on death row for my murder, along side her son if Al had been less than honest with me the previous evening.

"What did you do to me?" she demanded furiously as she jumped off the bed.

"What did I do to you?" I repeated ironically. "I distinctly remember telling you what would happen the next time you voluntarily came to my room."

That stopped her in her tracks.

Glancing down at her rumpled clothing she sputtered, "But we didn't...we couldn't have...I'm still dressed."

"Exactly," I granted smugly. "So what did I do to you? I come home, or what is currently passing for home, dead tired to find a nagging fishwife outside my door who then turns into a weeping willow all over me and to top it all off, falls asleep in my arms. Did you expect me to dump you in the hallway and leave you there?"

"No...I...I'm sorry...I just..." she halted her stammering as something about my white shirt caught her attention. Moving closer she peered at my collar. "There's lipstick on your collar. You were with a woman," she said in wonder. "My son's life is at stake and you can't keep your penis in your pants long enough to help him."

"What's it to you?" I demanded angrily. "Not every woman requires a lifetime of servitude just to have a good time."

"But you said...I thought..."

"That you were the only one I wanted? Well as you can see..."

I left it hanging there. If she asked me, pointblank if I had slept with another woman, I wouldn't lie to her, but the evidence of her own eyes would be enough for her. Perhaps that was the best way, the easiest way for both of us. I knew Samuel would be all right, and I was beginning to think the best thing for me to do was take myself out of the picture. Whomever Al worked for, I was obviously making waves for them, and Angelica was never going to give in to our mutual desire, so there was little point in my remaining in Colorado.

"So if there's nothing else..." I began pointedly, "I would like to shower, dress, and pack. I have a flight to catch."

"You...you're leaving?" she asked in sudden panic "But...but...what about Samuel? You can't just desert him. He needs you!"

"Samuel will be fine," I replied shortly, disappointed that Samuel was the only reason she wanted me to stay. "I've uncovered enough evidence to cast reasonable doubt into the minds of the jury. He will be acquitted if he even makes it to trial, which I doubt."

"Evidence?" she asked bewildered. "What evidence?"

"You'll see soon enough," suddenly I was overcome with weariness. "If you'll excuse me..." I said over my shoulder as I headed into the bathroom to take my shower.

I locked the door, even though I was fairly certain there was no need, and stood under the hot spray totally immobile for so long I lost track of time. Eventually, I realized the hot water would run out and I would be left with nothing but cold and I'd had enough cold showers in the past few weeks to last a lifetime, so I shook myself out of the stupor into which I had fallen and began soaping up.

The day was just beginning and it stretched interminably before me as did the rest of the days of my lonely celibate existence for I had finally realized that although I still didn't believe myself capable of 'love', I felt something for Angelica that I'd never felt for anyone else, including Allison. I knew that if Al, beautiful, sexy, Al couldn't stir my interest after we'd practically...well...anyway...if Al left me cold, there was no hope for me.

Angelica had spoiled me for any other woman and the thought infuriated me. I knew what she wanted, but I wasn't about to put another ring in my nose or noose around my neck, I'd just gotten rid of the last ones.

I knew she wasn't like Nat, there was no doubt about that, but she was like Allison, and I remembered clearly how Wilson had never been able to deny Allison anything. I was not going to get caught in that web either. At least with Nat I had always known where I stood and had been in control of the relationship.

Angelica, I had to admit, scared me silly. Every time I was with her I could feel myself wanting to give her whatever she asked for, but I wasn't going to give into that weakness; even if it meant being alone for the rest of my life.

I might have lost everything else, but at least I'd have my pride.

Chapter 29

Too Much Information

"Stover," I answered the phone reluctantly, the resignation in my voice obvious as I read the "Private Caller" message on my cell.

"I've missed you," the sexy voice teased.

"Like you miss a toothache when it's gone?" I suggested facetiously.

"You underrate your charm."

"I don't think so."

"I need to see you again."

"Sorry, I'm heading back to Texas today."

"Will you be stopping by to visit Allison first?"

"I would ask how the hell you know about Allison, but I suspect it would be a pointless exercise."

"So...?"

"I was thinking about it," I admitted in irritation.

"Make a reservation at that quaint little bed and breakfast and tell them you are expecting a...friend."

"Al..."

"It's important...I'll see you then lover boy."

Once again, I was left staring bemusedly at my cell phone wondering what had just hit me.

~ * * ~

"Come in," I called from the closet as I continued to hang up my suits.

"Mr. Stover, you're...friend is here," the disapproval in Mrs. Donaldson's voice was impossible to miss.

I had just enough time to register Al's "Richard, darling, I've missed you so" before I was enveloped in expensive perfume and two insistent arms. As Al began passionately kissing me, only partially hidden by the closet door, I recognized Mrs. Donaldson's disgruntled 'humph' and then heard the outer door close decisively.

"I thought she would never leave," Al released me and threw herself on the bed. "Not bad," she commented as she bounced a few times testing it out. "We should be very comfortable."

"We...?" I queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course silly, we're lovers...didn't you get the memo?" she asked playfully.

"No I must have missed that one," I frowned in displeasure.

"Wow," Al shook her head mournfully, "First Jake, then Mitch, and now you. What is it about me that repels all sexy men?"

"You...repel men? I don't believe that," I scoffed. "Men flock to you like flies to honey."

"Yeah, all the wrong types of men," she grimaced.

"I'm the wrong type of men," I informed her drily.

"Now it's my turn to say I don't believe that."

"Well you're young, my pet, plenty of time for you to learn," I said paternally. "Who are Jake and Mitch?" I asked curiously. "Should I be jealous?"

"Oh...nobody important...so when do I get to meet Allison?" she asked eagerly.

"Actually, you'll be staying here all by yourself unless I get some answers," I replied mildly.

"What answers?" she eyed me warily.

"I think you know what I'm looking for."

"All I can tell you is that I need to be here and not look suspicious."

"Then perhaps you should have picked a different outfit," I suggested critically. "You look suspiciously like a street walker," I continued as I took in her minute red halter dress, bright orange mop, and three inch heels. "What happened to your natural-looking blonde hair and the conservative yet subtly sexy black dress?"

"I do not look like a prostitute," she pretended to pout. "I look like a bimbo," she continued, correcting me in amusement, not offended in the least, "your girlfriend in fact. I thought this would be more...you."

"You think my 'girlfriends' are bimbos?" I asked good-naturedly.

"Well, this one is at least," she amended. "The best place to hide is always out in plain sight."

"Like the diary," I murmured.

"Oh yeah, nice job with that, by the way," she complimented me. "You're quite intelligent...for a lawyer."

"Gee thanks," I returned sarcastically, not even bothering to ask her how she knew about the diary, "and not easily sidetracked just so you know. Perhaps I should put my questions in terms a 'bimbo' could understand. Why are you here and how am I involved?"

"I need a cover and a natural way to meet Allison," she replied nonchalantly as she slid off the bed and picked up her pink suitcase, flamboyance apparently her middle name. "You meet both requirements."

"How is Allison involved?" I asked in alarm.

Al set her suitcase on the desk and opening it, began to unpack, putting things in the empty dresser drawers. I never stayed long enough to care to unpack anything but my suits, and those only to hang out the wrinkles, literally living out of my suitcase, but it looked like Al was planning on an extended stay.

I reached her in two strides and grabbed her arm, spinning her around.

"How is Allison involved?" I demanded.

"Unless you want to end up on the floor flat on your back," Al narrowed her eyes warningly, "I suggest you let go of my arm and never do that again."

"Are you as tough as you sound?"

"Do you really want to find out?"

I released her arm and took a step back.

"I'm out of here. And I plan to convince Allison to go with me."

"You can't!"

I heard the honest panic in Al's voice, and I suddenly felt like panicking for Allison.

"Look, I backed off of the whole Samuel thing because he's innocent and I think I found enough evidence to let things ride while you and your...cohorts...do whatever it is you need to do, but I'm not taking chances with Allison...especially since I'm shooting in the dark here," I informed her firmly. "If Andre, or Anthony, or whatever name he is currently using, is involved, then Allison is in danger and I'll do whatever I have to in order to protect her."

"Richard," Al said in a placating tone, "We want to protect Allison, too. That's why I'm here and that's why I need to stay close to her. You are the only natural way that I can do that. Please trust me."

"So she is in danger."

"Yes," she admitted reluctantly, "and you have to believe me when I tell you that taking her away from here will not help. Anthony Fairchild will find her no matter where she goes. At least here we have a chance of protecting her and catching him."

"You're using her as bait," I said incredulously. "That's it, isn't it? Answer me!"

"Unintentionally..." Al began contritely.

"You do not unintentionally bait a trap," I snorted. "What does this murderer want with her?"

"He didn't mean for it to happen," she anguished.

"Who didn't mean for what to happen?"

"I've already said too much," Al moaned, wringing her hands. "Please don't ask me anymore."

"Too late," I said grimly. "Either you explain yourself or I'm going straight to Allison and she and I will figure out some way to get her out of this."

"That's just it, you can't," Al wailed, every ounce of the sophisticated young woman in the pub gone without a trace.

So it had all been an act; she wasn't nearly as poised on the inside as she outwardly appeared.

"What do you mean?"

"He already knows," she whispered.

"Who already knows what?" I asked in exasperation.

"Fairchild already knows that Jake is in love with her."

~ * * ~

"So let me see if I have your incoherent ramblings straight," I frowned in concentration.

"Sorry," Al replied sheepishly. "I'm kinda global when it comes to telling stories."

"Nah," I scoffed sarcastically.

"Look, I wasn't supposed to tell you any of this, so..." she began in a warning tone.

"Alright...alright...I'll lay off the personal comments."

"Thank you," she replied haughtily.

"Donne is just a pseudonym for a man named Jake Wright, the scary, scarred humongous muscle-man I literally ran into at the airport when I was picking up Allison, and also the man you were waiting for in the pub when that young idiot tried to pick you up, and this Wright character used to work for whatever agency you do," I summed up efficiently. "Correct so far?"

At her nod I continued, "But Wright lives here disguised as Donne, a fat, doddering, old fool. Doesn't he have that backwards? Usually a famous author disguises himself as an average citizen to escape publicity."

"Fairchild has never, as far as we know, seen Jake as himself, only in his disguise, and he knows him simply as Jackknife, and as Donne of course, so by keeping his real identity a secret, Jake is able to move about without Fairchild realizing who he is," she explained. "Garnet always erases any trace of our true identities when we join the agency so it would have been almost impossible for Fairchild to figure out who Jake is."

"Garnet...?"

"Our boss...well...my boss anyway. Jake hasn't officially been with the agency for a long time."

"So how did this Fairchild find Wright if Garnet was doing his job properly?"

"That was Jake's decision; he's the one who let the cat out of the bag so to speak."

"What...he placed an ad or something to let Fairchild know where he was."

"In a way," Al grinned in remembrance. "His books are basically about his own life with a few judicious substitutions and plot rewrites in order to prevent classified information from being made public. By using those, he was able to let Fairchild know he was I. M. Donne, relying on Garnet's paranoia for security to protect his true identity. We're fairly confident that Fairchild has no idea who Jake really is."

"The best place to hide..." I began.

"Is out in plain sight..." she finished for me.

"So he...what...leaves the house as Donne and magically transforms into Wright in a phone booth like superman?"

"Something like that," she shrugged noncommittally.

"Right...need to know..."

"And you don't...so..."

"Fine, you can't tell me that, so what else can you tell me?"

"What exactly do you want to know?"

"Well, for starters, how did Jake get on this Fairchild's bad side and how could Allison possibly be involved?"

"Jake accidentally killed Fairchild's wife," she admitted reluctantly.

"Accidentally...nice," I commented sarcastically.

"Fairchild's wife jumped in between the two of them and took the bullet meant for him," she replied defensively. "It wasn't Jake's fault; he didn't even know she was there."

"And this is the crack shot, or should I say crackpot, currently attempting to protect Allison."

"Jake is good at what he does...or did...the best," she retorted hotly. "He did nothing wrong."

"So the thing that bothers you isn't the fact that this Wright character's obviously a killer, too, but that he didn't assassinate the correct person."

"Jake is not an assassin," she glared at me furiously. "You have no idea..." she stopped abruptly.

"Then give me an idea...I'm all ears."

"The woman was an accomplice, even if she wasn't the original target, and she put herself in harm's way by involving herself with Fairchild in the first place. It was her choice."

"Fairchild apparently doesn't see it that way and so, by killing his wife, Wright created a monster...a cold-blooded killer..."

"He was already a cold-blooded killer," Al replied between clenched teeth "Jake was simply trying to stop the assassinations. The man has been at it for years...years...and no one seems to be able to stop him. Jake is the only one who has ever even gotten close enough to him to attempt to take him out. I don't care what you believe, it was sanctioned and it was necessary."

"Fairchild is an assassin?" I asked quietly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you...Jake is going to kill me..." she cut herself off substituting "be upset with me for giving you classified information," she bit her lip in vexation.

"Hire a killer to take out a killer," I murmured, suddenly seeing things from a different angle. "And how many times has this Jake Wright guy been sanctioned to kill?"

She shook her head.

"Classified, of course," I replied mockingly.

"Someone has to rid the world of inhuman beasts like Fairchild," Al replied defensively "You can't imagine..." she broke off abruptly.

"Yeah, so you said," I replied absently "And Allison has no clue what type of man she's becoming involved with. Does she...is she in love with him?"

"We believe so," Al replied fatalistically.

"To sum it all up, Wright is a trained killing machine," I commented thoughtfully "And because he screwed up by killing this maniac's wife instead of the maniac himself and then had the nerve to fall in love with Allison, Allison is now in mortal danger. Did I miss anything?"

Al shook her head.

"And when did this accidental killing take place?"

There was silence.

"Al..."

"Ten years give or take," she answered in trepidation knowing I wouldn't react well to the information. She was right.

"He's been on the loose for over ten years!" I asked in amazement.

"He's...slippery," she conceded hesitantly. "That coward didn't even wait around to see if his wife was still alive," Al added contemptuously. "He used the opportunity to escape. We haven't been that close to catching him since."

"Either your agency is full of bumbling idiots or else he's getting careless in his old age because a teenage girl was able to follow him undetected," I observed harshly.

"He won't make that mistake again," she shook her head in disappointment. "I'm sure that gave him a shock. Pity...now he'll be even more on his guard."

"Why was he gathering information on Wright—or Donne I guess I should say—if he already knew where he lived? Why not just blow up his house with him in it and take his revenge. I'm assuming revenge is what he's after."

"Yeah he wants revenge but he is more of a tit for tat kind of guy," I could see that Al was loath to spell it out for me.

"Allison is not Donne's wife," I said forcefully. "Nor will she ever be if I have anything to do with it. It's not the same thing."

"Fairchild is willing to settle for the love of Jake's life, and believe me, Allison is the only woman who has ever touched Jake's heart or ever will for that matter. It's so painfully obvious when they're together Fairchild couldn't help but notice. They don't have to be married, he just wants to cause Jake the same excruciating pain he suffered, that of losing the only woman he's ever cared about."

"And how do you know that?"

"He sends Jake...Donne...Jackknife..."

She stumbled a bit over the names for which she could hardly be blamed since it seemed Wright had numerous aliases that I knew about and probably many more that I'd yet to discover. It must have been difficult for anyone to keep them straight.

"Anyway, Fairchild sends a note every year on the anniversary of his wife's death reminding him that he's still out there waiting," the admission seemed to be forced out of Al.

"Dammit Al, why haven't any of you done anything before now?" I asked in desperation as the gravity of the situation hit me.

She was right, it wouldn't matter where in the world Allison hid, that man would find her and kill her; he was a professional.

"Such as...?" her attempt at sarcasm failed miserably, her distress obvious.

"Wright could have faked a love affair...with an agent," I suggested futilely, knowing it was already too late "with you."

"They tried...once before I joined the agency and then a few years ago when I was a new recruit I took a stab at it, hence the rather elaborate disguise I'm wearing now...he knows what I look like," she replied heavily. "He wasn't fooled. Each time a picture arrived showing Jake and his 'love' and each time the caption read 'Nice try' or something similar. We gave up attempting to use that strategy. He wasn't falling for it."

"Why didn't Wright or Donne or Jackknife or whatever the hell his name is just stay away from her?"

I was one to be talking.

"Jake tried, he really tried. He totally alienated her on the plane and he assumed they would go their separate ways and he would never see her again, but then she showed up here, and he ran into her while he was walking his dogs. He even resorted to shutting himself up in his house, refusing to take the dogs out, but Buckshot kept escaping and finding Allison and then when her half-sister had to leave town, Allison took her place as Jake's part-time housekeeper and was in his house two days a week," she finished with a helpless shrug. "He never stood a chance."

"Buckshot...what's a 'Buckshot'...?"

"One of Jake's dogs, he can't seem to stand being away from Allison for any length of time and so he escapes at every opportunity, even if he hurts himself in the process, and finds her."

"Like master, like dog," I muttered.

"He couldn't help it," Al turned on me angrily. "Don't you think he knows it's his fault, that he'd rather have died a thousand painful deaths than put her in this kind of danger? Don't you realize he hates himself for what he allowed to happen? It's too late for recriminations...what's done is done. We have to deal with the here and now. The man has to be stopped...for good."

"I'm sorry...I understand more than you..." I broke off and asked instead "Where do we start?"

~ * * ~

"Richard, I had no idea you were dating someone seriously," Allison said in surprise. "I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks," I kissed her on the cheek as I made a concerted effort to sound like I meant it. "Al just swept me off my feet, and I literally never stood a chance."

"Oh that's so romantic," Al said grabbing my arm and hugging it, pinching it a bit as her way of saying 'behave your self'.

Images of Nat and our sham of a wedding flashed through my mind. Bossy, controlling women seemed to be my lot in life.

"So you'll be staying for a while?" Allison asked hopefully. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," I replied sincerely. "We'll be here for at least a week. I'm keeping in touch with the firm, but my junior associates seem to have everything under control, so I'm officially on vacation."

"And Angelica called to say that things are finally looking up for Samuel," Allison informed me. "Thanks to you and all your hard work; Angelica is so very grateful."

I shrugged. I knew I wouldn't be able to say anything without giving away something I'd rather keep to myself and, although I could feel Al's eyes on me questioningly, I ignored her.

In a desperate attempt to change the subject, I began with "So what..." but I never got any further as I was interrupted by what sounded like scratching at the back door followed closely by the most horrendous howling I'd ever heard in my life.

"What animal is dying out there?" I asked irritably.

"Buckshot is not dying," Allison rebuked me firmly going to the back door and opening it. "He just wants in."

The ball of fur that shot into the house, had me knocked flat on my back before I even knew what hit me. I lay on the floor, four monstrously large paws digging into my chest and legs, as a huge tongue dangled over my head, slobber covering it threatening to shower me at any moment.

I tried to reach up and push the enormous creature off me but one growl was enough for me to realize that it was a battle I would lose, along with possibly some of my body parts. I needed all of my body parts.

"Allison," I choked out, "help!"

"Buckshot," Allison grabbed his collar and began tugging at it, attempting to remove the beast who probably weighed as much if not more than she did. "Richard is a friend. Get off now!"

Grudgingly, Buckshot allowed Allison to drag him off me, and I was able to sit up and check that I was still in one piece.

Immediately Buckshot began enthusiastically licking Allison wherever he could reach while she laughingly pushed his head away whenever it ventured too close to her face.

"Wait a minute," I groused as I pulled myself off the floor and attempted to dust myself off, "you are terrified of tiny dogs, and that thing is a monster."

"Buckshot wouldn't hurt a flea," she said reproachfully. "Would you boy? That's my good boy."

I looked on in amazement as she and the dog slobbered all over each other, the dog literally and Allison figuratively. That was not the Allison I had always known who had once been bitten multiple times by a Chihuahua as a child and was terrified of even the smallest most innocuous of dogs.

As Al laughingly moved over towards the beast, obviously known to him...or at least obvious to me...to pet him, there was a pounding on the back door.

"And that would be Ian," Allison said with a smile as she and Buckshot moved as one towards the back door to admit another visitor.

I was relieved to note that the new arrival was human, even though the man appeared to be a small mountain...Donne.

I didn't feel relief for long, as I noticed a German Shepherd trotting at his heels.

Just what I need, I thought sullenly, another knock down attempted drag out.

No one had thought to inform me that there were canine behemoths involved.

"What is this," I muttered, "a dog love fest?"

"Behave," Al admonished me as Allison urged the mountain forward, one gentle hand on what I supposed passed for an arm, but looked more like a huge log growing out of his shoulder under the old-fashioned tweed jacket.

Except for his height, Donne looked nothing like the finely chiseled mountain of muscle that had collided with me at the airport; he looked...fat. His facial features were so obscured under the bushy brown beard and hair, that showed every indication of needing a trim, that no scar was even partially visible, and even his eyes were a soft shade of brown compared to the black, murderous eyes I'd been given a short glimpse of at the baggage claim. He was every inch the 'academic' with absolutely no trace of the killing machine I knew existed under the disguise.

"Ian, I would like for you to meet a friend of mine I've known since before the Chihuahua incident I told you about. Richard Stover this is Ian Donne," Allison smiled at me encouragingly.

"Donne?" I repeated blankly, impressing myself with my acting ability, "as in the author, Donne?"

"How do you do," the giant rumbled with a slight British accent.

If I hadn't already known, I would never have guessed that Donne and Wright were even related, much less that they were the same person. Donne gave every appearance of being a doddering old professor with a hoity-toity accent apparently too fond of any type of food for his own good. I would have laughed aloud at the incongruity of the situation, but Wright was a trained killer, even though he looked more like the Pillsbury doughboy at that moment, and I would be taking my life into my own hands.

"And this is Richard's new girlfriend, Al..."

"Jansen," Al supplied promptly.

I glanced at her sardonically, wondering where she had picked up that name. Not surprisingly, she ignored me.

"It's soooo nice to meet you, Mr. Donne," she giggled. "I've read all your books and seen all your movies and I am such a big fan. Could I have your autograph? Pleeeeeese...?"

It may have been my overactive imagination, or perhaps it was just because I knew that they were already well acquainted, but it seemed to me that Mr. Donne was not exactly pleased with Al's performance and was in fact glaring at her, although nothing in his voice gave any of that away as he replied smoothly.

"Of course, although my handwriting leaves much to be desired and you may not be able to read it."

Allison's tinkling laugh was natural and spontaneous as she handed him a pen and a piece of paper assuring him that his handwriting was just fine.

"I have no trouble reading any instructions you leave me when I clean your house, Ian."

"Well, I should be getting back." Mr. Donne seemed to be making a concerted effort to avoid eye contact with Allison and I wondered why, I didn't think even his own mother would recognize him in that get-up, but at the same time he couldn't keep his eyes from straying to her constantly. "My book will not write itself."

"Oh, what are you writing now?" Al asked hopefully.

"The ninth book in the Agent Jack Knight series," he answered politely. "It was nice meeting all of you. I must apologize for Buckshot's somewhat overenthusiastic welcome, Mr. Stover. He is an escape artist and always makes a beeline for Allison...and he seems to think he has to vet every stranger for her."

"She is hard to resist," I replied generously. "Can't blame a dog for being eager" I couldn't help adding, recalling our first meeting when I'd used a similar line.

My mischievous nature couldn't resist a bit of ribbing realizing I was indispensable to their plan, at least for the moment, and therefore safe from imminent death.

Ian Donne's eyes met mine, and I felt a shiver of fear run up and down my spine as I recognized the anger and naked jealousy in his, even through the soft brown contacts.

At that point, I had no trouble equating Donne with the menacing monster in black I'd encountered at the airport. From what Al had told me, he could have squashed me like a bug and not even missed a breath...and I believed it.

If he wanted Allison, and she wanted him, I certainly wouldn't be standing in the way. They were welcome to each other.

Of course, from the murderous light in his eyes, I realized that after it was all over he might be unable to resist the urge to kill me regardless of my generosity.

I wasn't sure that would be a bad thing.

Chapter 30

I Hate Waiting

"Are you happy, Richard?" Allison asked gently.

"Why shouldn't I be?" I countered evasively. "You've seen Al," I added lightly.

"You just seem...different than normal," she replied hesitantly. "Is it because of her?"

I pondered how best to answer her without lying. We were sitting at a table in the diner where I'd first met Angelica, and I was having trouble not recalling things I would rather forget.

Allison had called me earlier in the day, but not too early—obviously aware that Al and I were sharing a room and reluctant to disturb us—asking if I would join her for lunch. After getting it okayed with the 'boss' as I'd taken to calling Al, much to her irritation, I'd offered to pick Allison up and bring her back to town, panicking when she suggested she walk in order to get some exercise. Apparently, she'd turned into a fresh air fanatic since arriving in Colorado. I thanked the powers-that-be that I'd been blessed with a glib tongue. Thankfully, Allison accepted my lame excuse that I didn't want to lose any of our precious time together by waiting for her to reach town.

"Well, let me just say that I've never in my life met anyone like Al," I said with total honesty.

"I like her, too," Allison agreed.

I wouldn't go straight to like, I contradicted silently.

"...so don't take this the wrong way," she continued "but isn't she a bit...ditzy?"

Attempting to hide my amusement, I had to concede that Al was definitely a better actress than I was an actor.

Actually, Al wasn't so bad, but having to spend almost all of my time with her was wearing on me. Another reason I would never consider remarrying...no privacy.

"She has her own brand of charm," I shrugged diffidently. "Now it's your turn to tell me, what's so important that we couldn't discuss it over the phone?" I asked deliberately changing the subject. "Surely you're not that interested in my sex life," I couldn't help adding teasingly.

"Is that all it is?" she asked in disappointment.

"What else?"

"I thought maybe you'd finally found someone you could love."

I laughed. "Do you even know who you're talking to?"

"Richard..."

"Look, Allison," I interrupted briskly, "I'm glad you brought that up actually, because there is something I need to get off my chest."

Allison nodded uncertainly "Okay."

"I just wanted, no needed you to know that you don't have to feel guilty about me any longer," I held up my hand to forestall her protest. "You do, don't deny it. Ever since you first discovered that I was in love with you, it's bothered you more than you would ever admit, but I realize now that I don't love you that way and I never did. I wanted you," I chuckled at the blush she couldn't control even though she'd been married for years and had two children, it was so...Allison. "I'll own up to that, but when you left with Wilson I missed your friendship more than anything, and that's what I feel for you, a deep abiding friendship and a feeling much like I think I would have felt for a sister if I'd ever had one...well if I'd liked her that is. Sometimes siblings are hard to stomach, as you have reason to know."

"Oh Richard, I'm so glad," Allison gushed in relief. "I feel the same way about you. I missed you terribly when you deserted me...but I understand why you did. James said it was the best thing for you and I wanted you to be happy. I'm just sorry Nat..." she bit her lip and closed her eyes, no doubt recalling all of the pain Nat had caused us both.

"I think we should both pretend she doesn't exist...agreed?"

"Agreed," Allison held her hand out across the table and I gravely shook it.

"Now...enough about me," I said briskly "Tell me what's bothering you, and remember I know you too well so don't try denying that something is, because I won't believe you."

"You're right," for a moment she refused to meet my eyes, "something is bothering me...a lot...and I don't know who else to..."

Reaching across our practically untouched food, I grabbed Allison's chin and forced her head up.

"Look at me, Allison. I'm here for you. What's the problem?"

"I'm in love," she smiled at me tremulously.

"Tell me something I don't know," I gently mocked releasing her chin and making a show of moving my food around on my plate in order to avoid her eyes.

She'd always been fairly good at reading me and, even though I'd been able to fool most people, she had never been one of them. I couldn't risk her realizing I was hiding things from her.

"You know?" she asked in amazement.

"It's pretty obvious even to me that you and that Donne character are...how do I put this delicately...smitten with each other. Does that make you feel better?"

"Well, yes and no," she replied obscurely.

"I understand the yes, but the no has me bum foozled," I said half-jokingly.

Keep it light and you'll be fine, I told myself firmly, able to meet her eyes occasionally.

"I'm glad you're okay with it..."

"But you weren't going to lose any sleep over that part," I couldn't help tormenting her.

She smiled and said, "Sorry."

"I see how I rate."

"Richard..."

"Alright, alright," I held my hands up in surrender. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I love Ian, even though I never thought I would be able to feel that way about another man after I lost James, and I'm always happy when we're together, but I'm...I'm..." she seemed at a loss how to proceed.

"Just spit it out, Allison."

"I'm afraid you'll think...badly of me," she admitted miserably.

I hooted with laughter, drawing all eyes in the diner over to our table, alight with curiosity.

"Richard," Allison reproached me, "it's not funny."

"I'm...sorry..." I gasped in between spasms of uncontrollable laughter. "It's just...that's so...you can't be...me think badly of you."

I couldn't seem to stop so I pushed back from the table with a choked "Stay" and moved quickly outside to stand on the sidewalk.

After a few minutes of spasmodic laughter, I was able to collect myself enough to reenter the diner and rejoin Allison at our table with a casual "She is such a joker" comment to the sparsely populated room.

Allison was not a happy camper.

"I'm so glad I could entertain you," she said acerbically.

"You have to admit, the thought that I, the king of colossally bad behavior, could ever possibly think poorly of you, the queen of conscience...well, it's just...laughable, as I so aptly demonstrated."

Tears pooled in Allison's eyes, and I felt like kicking myself for being the insensitive jerk that I inevitably always was.

"Allison," I said contritely moving my chair closer to hers and taking her hand in mine, "what I am so clumsily trying to say is that whatever it is that's bothering you, I swear by everything I know to swear by, that I could never think badly of you, no matter what you tell me. Please...let me help."

"I do love Ian, he's so kind and smart and funny and I can't imagine ever losing him...but...I'm...I'm attracted to someone else," she finished in an agonized whisper.

"Hmm...my area of expertise," I nodded understandingly. "Do you want to tell me about this other man? Who is he? Where did you meet? How long have you known him?"

"That's just it," Allison admitted despondently, "I've only ever talked to him one time and haven't seen him except one other time since, but I can't seem to forget him. His eyes...they spoke to me like no one else's has since I lost James...not even Ian's. At times I think Ian...but then...oh, I don't know," she finished in frustration. "I'm so confused."

I closed my eyes, willing myself to breathe deeply and evenly. She couldn't be talking about...but couldn't she...after all they were one and the same person, and she was in love with one of them, so couldn't she have fallen for his alternate identity...but what were the odds...although the whole situation admittedly defied the odds...she had acted strangely over Wright at the airport...my suddenly pounding head was a jumble of disjointed thoughts.

How do I deal with this one, Boss? I asked sardonically knowing that I could expect no help from that quarter at that very moment; I was on my own.

I'd practically begged Al to let Allison in on what was going on, but she and Donne or Wright or Jackknife or whatever he called himself wouldn't hear of it. They were afraid she would do something stupid like try to sacrifice herself in order to protect everyone else. I unwillingly had to agree with their assessment; her guilt complex alone made her a prime candidate for that type of thing.

"So where did you unearth this mysterious stranger?" I asked fatalistically.

"We sat next to each other on the flight to Denver, you remember, the day you picked me up to meet my family."

"You were acting rather strangely," I agreed, my heart sinking.

"You bumped into each other when you went to get my suitcase off the carousel," she was watching me closely for my reaction.

"The mountain of muscle with legs," I nodded as if I were just recalling the incident. "He was rather scary looking if you ask me," I pretended to shudder "that scar...and those eyes..."

"It's not all about looks, Richard," she remonstrated me.

"Alas," I lamented mockingly, "for some of us it is."

"What do I do, Richard?" she asked in desperation. "I love Ian, but he hasn't shown any interest in...I mean...he doesn't even try to kiss me...and whenever I get too close he pushes me away, nicely, but still..."

"And in the meantime you can't get the tall, dark, mysterious stranger out of your head," I smiled sympathetically.

"He was actually rude to me, but that didn't seem to matter. When our eyes met..." she trailed off.

"Women love bad boys," I couldn't resist goading her a bit.

"I didn't say he was..."

"You certainly seem to have a thing for muscles. First Wilson, now Wr...some guy in an airport, obviously with more muscles than brains if he didn't see what a catch you are."

I cursed my stupidity in almost using Wright's name, barely catching it in time. I would have to be more careful, keeping my guard up anytime I was with Allison. That was going to be difficult.

"Not helping."

"I know, I'm sorry," I grinned unrepentantly.

"No you're not," she smiled slightly, "but that's one of the things I love about you...you never let me take myself too seriously."

"One of the things...?" I baited her. "Please continue, I'm dying to know what other things you love about me."

"I'm not about to go there," she denied primly, "you have a big enough head as it is."

"You wound me," I held both of my hands over my heart as if in pain. "Seriously though, Allison, my advice to you, for what it's worth, is to give it time. You haven't known Donne for very long, and unlike me he seems to be quite the gentleman, so perhaps you're moving too fast for the doddering old fool. I seem to recall how you used to throw yourself at Wilson and even though Wilson ate it up, perhaps this Donne character is more reticent about the...er...physical side of a relationship. To put it bluntly my dear, you may be scaring the hell out of him."

I hated myself for basically accusing her of being cheap and easy, which she wasn't nor ever would be, especially when I saw the mortification and embarrassment written all over her face—she hadn't even notice my 'foul language'—but I didn't see any other way to convince her to be patient.

If she got too close to Donne, she would in all likelihood discover his secret identity, and he wasn't ready for that to happen. He would have already noticed her temper, which often led to unpredictability on her part, and wouldn't want to risk her going off half-cocked.

My job as I saw it was to keep her from doing anything foolish. Her situation wasn't nearly as dire as she thought and would be resolved in time.

I should be so lucky.

~ * * ~

Days passed and still we waited. I mentioned to Al that we were guarding Allison so well that Fairchild had no choice but to bide his time, and she whole-heartedly agreed, reluctantly admitting that Wright was unwilling to expose Allison to possible harm. He adamantly refused to allow her to be put in a situation where Fairchild could get the upper hand, which severely handicapped the whole operation.

I didn't understand why Wright seemed to be running the show when he was no longer with whatever agency was involved, but Al refused to give me anymore information, having been wrung out by Wright over the few details she'd already provided me, so eventually I stopped asking.

Al and I shared a bed, but nothing else, and she was beginning to show definite signs of irritability. I had innocently asked her if it was PMS, and she about decked me.

I would have gladly spent more time at Sophia's house, but no one thought that was a good idea, she was already overrun with canine and human company and didn't need me added to the mix any more than my one visit a day.

No one had any idea how Fairchild planned to proceed, and the strain was beginning to wear on all of us.

I told Al about Allison's 'problem' and we both agreed that telling Wright was not a good idea. There was nothing he could do about it at that point, and we couldn't afford to risk him alienating Allison, which would surely happen if she found out about Donne's deception too soon. With her temper, I could just picture her taking off hurt and angry, putting as many miles between them as possible, making herself into an easy target for the killer.

A week passed, and we were well into the second week when it happened. Al got a call from a steely voiced Wright asking what the devil Allison was doing at the bed and breakfast with us at three o'clock in the morning.

Al assured him that she wasn't with us and even as bleary eyed as we were, we would hardly have missed that. Wright arrived shortly after, not having bothered with his disguise, and there ensued a well-executed search of the premises as the Donaldsons stood by in their nightclothes, eyes wide, terrified by the armed men invading their humble abode.

The necklace Donne had given Allison—after extracting a promise that she would wear it twenty-four hours a day—contained a type of homing device...unbeknownst to me. Apparently, I was on a need to know basis and I didn't know as much as I'd thought. Wright found the necklace hanging on a protruding nail on the front porch of the bed and breakfast where we were staying, along with a note containing the words 'I'll be in touch'.

"He has her," Al stated emotionlessly.

"So it would seem," Wright responded absently staring into space.

"How the hell did that happen?" I asked furiously.

No one answered. A split-second later Wright's cell phone rang.

"Wright," he answered immediately.

He moved a short distance away from us to take the call, then snapped his phone shut and turned back towards us.

"He took out all of the guards," he informed us expressionlessly.

"Usual MO...?"

"No, pistol close range, most likely fitted with a silencer."

"What do you mean by 'took them out'?" I asked carefully.

"How would he have known...?" Al began.

"Apparently, Sanchez was smoking again," Wright's disgust was obvious. "Sampson found a couple of butts on the ground. After that, all he needed was patience and vigilance."

"Tell me what the hell's going on," I demanded impatiently.

"They're dead," Al answered tonelessly. "Did they find any footprints?"

"Dead," I repeated uncomprehendingly, in my defense it was the middle of the night and my brain wasn't quite awake. "How many were there?"

"Two sets...his and hers...they went out the front door," Wright answered Al, ignoring me completely, "but he had a car waiting a hundred meters down the road."

"How many?" I interrupted abruptly.

"Five," she threw at me in irritation. "Tracks...?"

"Five of your agents are dead," I repeated incredulously, "this madman has Allison, and it sounds like you two are casually discussing the weather."

"The agents knew the risks," Wright said dismissively. "Looks like an SUV of some..."

"You coldblooded son of a bitch," I yelled at him. "If Allison dies is that what you're going to say? 'Oh well...too bad...she knew the risks.' Except she didn't know the risks did she, and all because of you!"

"You want a piece of me, Stover?" Wright growled. "Fine, you can have your turn...later. Right now I'm kinda in the middle of something, so if you don't have anything useful to say..."

"Just stating the facts," I glared back defiantly. "What's wrong, Wright, you can't handle hearing the truth?"

"Since the lawyer in you seems to feel the need to be argumentative and self-righteously lay blame, go ahead and get it off your chest, Stover," Wright snarled at me "Then maybe you'll shut the hell up and let us do our jobs."

"If you had done your job correctly in the first place, this wouldn't have happened," I snapped back. "This is your fault. You should been upfront with her from the beginning instead of making her an easy target. She was a sitting duck. All he had to do was..."

"This isn't helping," Al interrupted impatiently. "If you two are quite through comparing the size of your..."

"Finish what you were going to say," Wright broke in quietly. "You know her well, what would have gotten her quietly out of the house in the middle of the night?"

"There is only one thing that would have worked without question," I replied immediately, "her children."

"Al, get Sampson to call the agents watching Allison's kids," he ordered. "I'm going to head over to Sophia's and see if I can find something the others might have overlooked," he continued all business, any emotion he was feeling under strict control once more. "Stover...?"

"Right behind you."

Like he said, I knew Allison well, and I wasn't about to be left out of anything that might help find her.

~ * * ~

"Anything...?" I asked hopefully, as he entered the bedroom.

"Nothing we don't already know," Wright answered shortly. "You?"

I shook my head despondently.

"What do we do now?"

"Agents are scouring the area" he replied stoically. "His vehicle will have left tracks; we'll find her."

"Not in time."

"He wants me there to..." he paused, swallowing hard, "to watch..." the first sign of any genuine emotion I'd seen from him all night. "We have time" he finished abruptly turning towards the living area.

"Did you check out the shack where he was staying before?" I questioned as I followed him out of the bedroom.

"Yeah...nothing," he responded impatiently.

"He could be anywhere," I fumed. "There's no way your agents are going to be able to sniff him out before..." I broke off as I dodged the human statue suddenly in front of me. "Hey, brake lights would be helpful," I protested.

"That's it," Wright murmured to himself. "Stupid...stupid..."

"What's it...brake lights...?" I asked uncomprehendingly, but I was talking to myself, Wright was out the door and in his monster truck jamming it into gear before I had even had a chance to draw a breath.

Standing uncertainly where he'd left me, I wasn't sure what to do. Because I had ridden with Wright, I had no means of transportation, although I wasn't sure I would have left the 'scene of the crime' even if I had.

Sophia was sitting on the couch, still a bit groggy. She was a heavy sleeper and it had taken quite a bit of shaking to wake her, which obviously contributed to the ease with which Fairchild had absconded with Allison. I took the spot next to her.

All she'd been told was that Allison had been kidnapped. Once she woke up a bit I knew she would be asking unanswerable questions, but for the moment we simply sat on the couch, just like the first time we'd met, as she held one of my hands in both of hers.

Although neither of us were sure why, we waited there in silence as if expecting something to happen.

The scratching at the door along with the unearthly howling seemed somehow inevitable; Wright's sudden inspiration clear to me as I patted Sophia's hand and then moved to the back door to let Buckshot in. The huge ball of fur tore through the house, enthusiastically searching for Allison, following her scent into the bedroom she had been sharing with Sophia and then making a beeline for the front door frantically attempting to break it down, yowling loudly enough to wake the dead.

"Open it," Wright ordered as he followed Buckshot into the house.

Before I could do more than unlatch the front door, Buckshot was shooting out of the house like a bat out of hell with Wright and the German Shepherd close on his tail.

As much as I hated to admit it, Buckshot was probably the only chance we had of finding Allison alive, and I was impressed that Wright had the presence of mind to think of using the devoted mongrel in order to 'sniff her out' as I'd so clumsily suggested. If he had given up, sitting around twiddling his thumbs until the killer deigned to contact him, there was no way he would ever have been allowed close enough to save her.

...and more waiting.

Sophia and I spent the interminably long hours together alternating between hope and despair, not speaking much, too nervous to concentrate on anything. Elizabeth, thankfully, had spent the night with a friend, or maybe not so thankfully, as it was probably that fact which had determined the timing of the kidnapping. Fairchild had no problem leaving Sophia undisturbed, possibly discovering what a heavy sleeper she was through Samuel and Darcy, but he would have been hard put to keep quiet enough to get past Elizabeth.

Some time during that interminable day, Elizabeth called to let us know she was coming home, but Sophia convinced her to stay longer.

I'd stopped calling Al, the last phone call she had practically snarled at me telling me to stay off the phone and wait for her to call me. We had no idea what was going on and the suspense was—I realized it was an exaggeration but for lack of a better word—killing me.

Sophia wanted to call Angelica, but I nixed that idea. I convinced her that Angelica had enough on her plate with Samuel, and until we knew something, there would be no point in worrying her. She reluctantly agreed.

Sometime during the middle of the afternoon, I finally convinced a sleepy Sophia to take a nap. She fought it valiantly but eventually gave in.

Late afternoon, my cell phone finally rang.

"She's okay," Al's voice was a mixture of unrecognizable emotions, "we've got her."

"Where is she?" I questioned harshly, the worry of the previously agonizing hours affecting me even more than I'd realized. "Can I see her?"

"She isn't...exactly...conscious," she replied hesitantly.

"What the hell do you mean she isn't conscious?" I demanded furiously. "You said she was alright. Is she injured? What...?"

"If you'd just shut up and give me a chance to explain..." she interrupted me irritably. "She'd been drugged and is still sleeping it off."

"Well that could take a while if she's as bad as she used to be about metabolizing medication," I grimaced into the receiver.

"Thankfully she is," Al replied cryptically.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look, I've gotta go, Jake can explain it all to you later," she said hurriedly. "Tomorrow the charges against the boy will be dropped, so I suggest you head that way as soon as possible in order to bring him and his mother home."

"I don't suppose asking for details would do me any good."

"No it wouldn't," I could hear the resolve in her voice.

"Are you sure Allison's safe now? What if he...?"

"He won't be bothering her again," she interrupted soberly.

"Wright killed him."

I was surprised at the detached note in my voice.

"Richard..." she warned.

"Fine, I'll just make my own assumptions," I replied tetchily, "but what am I supposed to tell the family?"

"The public story is that the guy was stalking Donne, obsessed with him, wanted to be him—famous people always have stalkers—and so he kidnapped Allison, the temporary housekeeper, hoping that she would be able to give him information."

"Doesn't make much sense, but stalkers seldom do, so I suppose that's close enough to the truth to work."

"They will all be so glad that the kid is getting off and Allison is home safely that they won't question it," she assured me firmly. "I've really got to go now so if I don't see you again, it's been real," she added flippantly as she hung up.

"Yeah...real," I repeated. snorting at the gross understatement as I went in search of Sophia.

~ * * ~

Pushing open the door, I vaguely registered the bell above me announcing a new arrival, my full attention focused on the dingy, poorly lit interior of the greasy spoon. I was sure I had the correct address, but I could tell immediately that there was no sign of Angelica in the smoke-filled room.

Feeling definitely out of place, I turned to beat a hasty exit only to be halted by a rough female voice hollering "Where them burgers, Angel? I got hungry customers."

I didn't believe in coincidences. Angelica was the cook.

Searching the half-empty diner, I found a table that would give me a glimpse of the kitchen, seated myself, much to the annoyance of the hostess, and ordered a coffee from the middle-aged, dyed blonde waitress whose smoke-roughened voice had alerted me to Angelica's presence. I planned to leave her quite a tip to express my gratitude, even though she would have no idea of the reason behind my generosity.

Periodically, I spotted Angelica, hair falling out of her customary bun, sweat glistening on her face, struggling to keep up with the orders as the diner began to fill, and I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, I had to fight the urge to drag her from the kitchen, probably kicking and screaming, and back to my hotel room for obvious reasons, on the other, I enjoyed watching her without her being aware of it, something I'd never been able to do before.

After a while, I began to notice little things, unimportant to anyone else, but of vital interest to me. For one thing, she had a few gray hairs that hadn't been there the last time I'd seen her. That had been one of the first things I'd noticed about her, the black sheen of her hair untouched by the signs of middle age afflicting the rest of us.

Even Allison hadn't been immune to the march of time, the small amount of silvery gray mixing with her blonde tresses to create a light frost effect that women paid money to have done. Maybe it was the Tate blood that kept them looking so young when other, younger women, had already long been making the rounds of plastic surgeons, I didn't know, but even with the touch of gray, Angelica was unbelievably beautiful.

The other thing that jumped out at me was the fact that she looked...tired...worn...which was understandable considering the stress she had been under with Samuel, on top of obvious money problems. If only I'd known...but she would never have accepted my help.

Although Allison had taken over Angelica's role as Donne's housekeeper while she'd been gone, not keeping any of the money herself of course, the extra income Angelica usually earned at the local diner must have been sorely missed and Angelica was too proud to allow even Allison to help her out financially, much less anyone else...especially me.

Hotel rooms didn't come cheap, and she hadn't been home since Samuel's arrest, so she had probably run out of money fairly quickly. The conclusion was so obvious that I was amazed I hadn't thought of it.

The diner had a couple of hours left before closing and I was hungry, but unwilling to add to Angelica's workload, I ordered pie with my coffee. Silly thoughts flitted through my head as I bided my time waiting for the diner to close...asking for cherry pie, ordering a club sandwich, accidentally spilling coffee on myself...but I discounted them all. I didn't want Angelica to know I was there until she got off of work and it was too late to do anything about it, realizing she would try to send me away if she discovered my presence too soon.

I knew I would be asked to leave at closing time, but I had my strategy planned out—not about to hang around outside looking suspicious until Angelica finished up—and it worked like a charm. My waitress, Phyllis, apparently knew about Samuel, so all I had to do was convince her that I was one of his lawyers, once again my appearance worked in my favor, and I wanted to surprise Angelica with the information that all charges against Samuel were being dropped the next day.

Phyllis was more than happy to help me. Apparently, Angelica and Allison were very much alike, both having a way of drawing people in and making them friends for life.

By the time Angelica was finished closing up the kitchen, and had managed to drag her self out from behind the counter—head and shoulders drooping with tiredness and despair—it was midnight.

"Richard," she said dully, as she lifted lackluster eyes to meet mine.

I had planned to wait until she had time to get back to her room and clean up before springing the good news on her, but she needed some type of pick me up as soon as possible, giving every appearance of being at the end of her rope. It hurt to see her in such horrible shape. I desperately wanted to see her smile, not that I'd ever been able to generate one before, and I was glad I was the one bringing her the good news.

"I'll lock up, Hon," Phyllis said sympathetically from behind the counter. "I gotta few more things I gotta do. You go on now."

"Thanks, Phyl," Angelica smiled tiredly. "See you tomorrow."

"Sure you will, Doll," she grinned knowingly. "Bye now."

Taking Angelica's arm, I began leading her towards my car, figuring that she hadn't been able to sit down in hours, and deciding that would be the place to give her the good news, but she attempted to pull away.

"My...room...is this way," she said haltingly.

"You're not staying at the hotel," I stated tonelessly.

"No...I..." she stammered then fell silent.

"You couldn't afford it," my voice was totally devoid of expression as I wondered just what type of place she had been able to afford.

When she didn't answer, I commanded, "Lead the way."

"No!" she exclaimed vehemently, the first signs of life I'd seen from her all evening. "I don't want you to come," she tried to shake my hand off in earnest.

"I'm not planning to stage a big seduction scene with you dead on your feet, dressed in that hideous uniform, and smelling like a greasy hamburger," I said angrily, once more allowing my frustration to gain a voice.

She stood there as still as a statue, tears welling in her eyes, unable to muster the strength to reply.

"Damn it, Angelica," I snorted in disgust, angry with myself rather than her, but I knew she wouldn't realize it. "Why do you always manage to bring out the worst in me?"

Shaking her head mutely, tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks as I pulled her roughly into my arms.

"I'm sorry," I whispered against her hair as I held her tightly against me. "I didn't mean...I just wanted to...oh hell...Samuel will be released tomorrow," I finished in annoyance.

At first, I didn't think she heard me, but after a moment of hesitation she stopped crying, pushed me away, and lifted her uncomprehending face to mine.

"Did you say...?"

"Yes, I did," I answered in a gentler tone. "All the charges are going to be dropped tomorrow. They nabbed the real killer today. Now will you let me escort you to your room?"

"No...I can't...it's not very...nice," she stammered.

"Then we'll collect your things and get you the hell out of there."

"Stop using foul language," she said mechanically as she chewed on her bottom lip.

I rolled my eyes, "You and Allison are definitely related."

"Richard, I don't want..."

"Don't worry, separate rooms," I interrupted irritably knowing exactly what was going through her mind and acknowledging that I had put it there in the first place. "I'm not going to allow you to stay another night in whatever rat-infested hellhole..." at her warning look I sighed and said "alright...rat-infested dump you've been living in."

"No rats," she contradicted with the first sparkle of humor I'd seen in...well...ever, "only cockroaches."

"Fine...no rats," I smiled in relief to see her bouncing back somewhat. I held out my hands in surrender and jokingly commanded, "Take me to your cockroaches."

Chapter 31

Not My Fault...

"Open the gates, damn you Wright!"

I lay on the buzzer without relief as I glared at the house, pretending it was the object of my ire.

I jumped back as Wright's German Shepherd appeared out of nowhere on the other side of the wrought iron fence. I'd forgotten he had a guard dog.

"Some guard dog," I taunted as the dog sat on its haunches staring at me intently. "Go get your master," I ordered as I grabbed the gate and attempted to rattle it.

The low growl I heard emanating from the throat of the beast was enough to convince me that it was indeed a guard dog, even though it hadn't moved an nth. I released the gate as if I'd been scalded.

"Antagonizing Lady will only buy you a death sentence," a satirical voice offered from behind me.

"Who are you?" I asked suspiciously, as I spun around to confront the mocking voice.

"A friend of the owner," he responded, deliberately vague. "And you are...?"

"An acquaintance of the owner," I returned just as ambiguously.

"Well, glad we got that all cleared up," he replied in amusement.

"I guess we're at an impasse."

"I guess we are."

We stood there silently, each taking the other's measure, until he finally asked resignedly, "Will you at least tell me your name?"

"I will if you will," I allowed.

"I already know my name."

I glared at him balefully.

"Fine," he folded his arms in front of him "but you first."

"Stover, Richard Stover."

I didn't know if giving him my name was a good idea, but I wasn't getting anywhere pushing the intercom buzzer, and I was desperate enough to try anything.

"Ah," he grinned unabashedly, "the nosey lawyer."

"My reputation precedes me," I nodded in concession.

"Al has regaled me with your...um...finer points," he chuckled.

"So you know Al," I stated unnecessarily. "Are you going to follow through on our agreement or are you planning to withhold your name?"

"You really don't know who I am?" he asked in disbelief.

"Sorry," I shrugged indifferently "Are you famous or something?"

"Or something," he acknowledged. "You can call me Mitch."

"The mysterious Mitch..."

I recalled Al mentioning that she'd made an attempt to capture the attention of a Mitch, but he had rejected her.

I was quickly becoming surprised Al had shown any interest in me whatsoever, her taste apparently running more along the lines of walking and talking mountains in pants. Black hair and eyes also seemed to be a common theme for her. I wondered if Mitch was related to Wright in some way, they had a similar look.

"So you have heard of me?"

"Al brought you up once," I conceded "But when I asked who you were she said 'nobody important'."

"Ouch," his eyes narrowed mischievously. "She'll pay for that one."

"Well, Mitch, do you know why...Wright...I mean Donne won't open up?"

"It's okay, I know most of his aliases," Mitch assured me, "and to answer your question, I have no idea. I couldn't get him to answer his phone either, and I got worried. I called Al and she filled me in on what's been happening; that's why I'm here."

"You think he's..." I hesitated to use the word, it seemed worse than incongruous when used in conjunction with the muscled titan who could in all likelihood crush a whole city with one hand, but for lack of a better one..."injured."

"Not physically."

"So he's simply shutting everyone out."

"Yep."

"I'm not leaving until I see him, even if I have to climb over the fence and brave the man-eater over there," I gestured towards the dog, still sitting in the same position, as still as stone.

"Not a good idea."

"You have a better one?"

"Hmm...he's blocked my normal route, that's why I ended up here at the front gate."

"What's your normal route?"

"Trade secret," Mitch replied mysteriously.

"So you work for the same agency as Al does and Wright used to."

"Nope," he grinned, deeply amused by something.

"Trade secrets...?"

"Different trade," was his cryptic reply. "I'm thinking that if one of us is going to climb the fence it should be me. Lady knows me better than she knows you, although she may tear into me just as readily depending on what command Jake used on her."

"If you know the commands, can't you..."

"All of the commands are in German, not something I've ever become familiar with, and besides she's too well trained to obey anyone other than Jake himself unless he gives her permission."

"You're not much help," I said glumly.

"We'll see about that," he laughed as he moved to the gate.

As soon as he touched the iron, the growl was back in Lady's throat. Mitch ignored it and began climbing.

"Perhaps that's not such a good idea after all," I suggested mildly, my eyes glued on the dog whose eyes were, in turn, glued on Mitch shimmying up the gate.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough," he returned nonchalantly as he made the top and began to climb over.

"Mitch, you damned fool, what the hell are you doing?" an irate voice yelled from the front of the house.

"Hey Jake," Mitch called cheerfully as he stopped and perched himself precariously on top of the gate. "You really should work on your people skills. Stover and I were beginning to think you didn't like us," he added reproachfully.

"I don't," he replied testily. "Get lost, both of you."

"After I climbed all the way up here, that's the thanks I get," Mitch asked, pretending to pout.

"Thanks?" Jake repeated in disbelief.

"Your welcome," Mitch responded graciously, deliberately misunderstanding.

"What part of 'get lost' do you need re-explained?"

"Aw, come on Jake, don't be that way," Mitch coaxed.

Wright barked a command in German to the dog who gave one last longing look at Mitch balanced on the gate and then turned and trotted past him into the house. Mitch immediately began climbing down.

Wright turned towards the house and, seeing that he was going to ignore me, I yelled, "You will talk to me Wright or the whole world is going to hear the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth in short order," I threatened.

I saw his back stiffen as he paused, no doubt wondering if I was bluffing.

"I don't make idle threats, Wright," I warned for good measure.

He entered the house and my shoulders sagged in defeat. As I slowly moved away, I heard the whirring of a motor and looked up to see the gate miraculously opening.

Still leery of the possibility of a dog attack, I moved cautiously toward the house. Regrettably, Mitch had already disappeared inside. The German Shepherd was obviously under control, but there was still that demon dog Buckshot to worry about.

Making the front door, I peered warily into the dark interior.

"What are you waiting for?" an irascible voice demanded.

"The dog...?"

"Lady's in here with me," he replied tetchily. "She won't hurt you."

"No, the other dog," I corrected, "the demon dog."

"He's with...not here. Get inside and shut the door."

I obeyed instantly, and then guardedly headed towards the location of the voice into what was obviously Wright's study. I had to admit the man had excellent taste and it was obvious to me that he preferred natural surroundings as I took in the gigantic rocked fireplace which was perhaps the most striking thing in the room stretching from the dark oak hardwood floors to the heavy wooden beams supporting the ceiling, a good ten feet at least.

"Okay, you're here. Start talking."

"I'd think it would be more prudent to use a different phrase when conversing with a lawyer," Mitch commented humorously from a reclining position on the leather couch in front of the fireplace. "Giving an ambulance chaser that type of carte blanche..." he left his statement hanging.

"I want to speak with you alone, Wright."

"I have no secrets from Mitch."

I couldn't see Mitch's face but I heard his snort of disbelief.

"Shut up," Wright threw at him irritably.

"Shutting up now," he laughingly returned.

Too much of my anger had dissipated during my tête-à-tête with Mitch for me to approach our discussion from the angle I had originally planned, and I hadn't had time to regroup and form a different line of attack so, for the moment, I was at a loss as to how to proceed; an extremely uncomfortable position for me.

"I assume this has to do with...Allison," he seemed to hesitate over her name as if testing the water in order to gauge how painfully cold it was.

"She won't even see me thanks to you," I glared at him, feeling my anger returning somewhat.

"That's not my problem," he shrugged indifferently.

"Damn you to hell, Wright," my fury was back with a vengeance, his cavalier attitude acting as fuel to the fire. "She trusted me, we've known each other our whole lives, and now, because of you, she..."

"What do you expect me to do about it?" he demanded wrathfully.

"Tell her it was all your fault, that you were the one calling the shots, and that I..."

"If she doesn't want to see you it has nothing to do with me," he interrupted in annoyance. "I did shoulder all of the blame; she knows I was totally responsible for everything that happened. I was the one in charge; I was the one who made the decision to keep her in the dark. There's nothing else I can do for you," he finished lugubriously.

"She won't see you either," I exclaimed in surprise.

"No," he answered heavily grasping his head between his hands as if in agonizing pain.

"But she loves you," I protested.

"I killed that when I killed any trust she had in me," he replied harshly, lifting his head and glaring at me. "I think we're done here."

"How much did you tell her?"

"Does it matter?" he asked dully.

"If she ever consents to see me again, I'd like to know..."

"Everything," he said shortly.

"You mean...?"

"I told her the whole truth, she knows everything, probably more than you do," he answered in a drained voice.

"I don't suppose you'd..."

"No, I'm through talking about it. If you can convince her to see you again, you can ask her the rest."

I was silent for a moment, digesting the information Wright had reluctantly given me, trying to make sense of Allison's behavior. If she wouldn't even see the man she loved, what chance was there for me? On the other hand, as deeply as she felt my betrayal had gone, that would be nothing compared to the deception of the man she loved and trusted.

Studying Wright, I knew he was a man for whom life no longer had any meaning, he had lost the only thing worth living for, and it was killing him. His love for Allison was so intense that I was reminded of Wilson and the agony I'd seen on his face when he'd thought he'd lost Allison to the fire Becky had set. Allison had been his whole world just as she was now Jake Wright's whole world, the only reason for his existence.

I didn't even know what that meant, wasn't sure I could feel anything that acutely. Angelica was the first woman I'd ever met who'd even come close, the way I felt about her was...consuming...or it would be if I gave into it, but I fought it, hating the emotions that threatened to drown me every time we were together or when I even allowed myself to think about her. I didn't want to give a woman that kind of power over me, but did I really have a choice? Did any of us?

Wright was probably the strongest, most courageous man I'd ever met, and I could clearly see what it had done to him. He was a mess. I could suddenly find it in my heart to pity him.

"I'm sincerely sorry, Wright," I murmured quietly.

As I turned to leave, I heard him mumble softly "Thanks".

Chapter 32

Braving the Storm...

As I pounded on the door, I realized I was taking my life in my hands. I didn't have to be a mind reader to divine from Wright that Buckshot, that freakishly large and out of control hairball who worshipped Allison, was residing with her. I could hear the dog barking furiously as if in confirmation...or warning...and Angelica would most likely pull her Colt on me again.

"Open the door, Angelica," I demanded irritably. "I'm not leaving until Allison agrees to speak to me."

"Go away," she replied angrily.

"I told you, I'm not leaving."

"Then I'll call the police," she threatened. "None of us want you here."

"I don't think you speak for everyone, does she Sophia...Samuel?"

"Mom, let him in," I could hear Samuel coaxing her from the other side of the door and to my extreme gratification, Elizabeth's voice joining his.

"Both of you go to your rooms," she hissed at them.

"Mom..."

"Angelica," I heard Allison's soft voice interrupting. "Let him in, please."

"Are you sure...?"

"Yes, it's time. I need to talk to him."

The door opened slowly and I saw Angelica framed in the doorway, much like the first time I visited the house, in jeans and a tank top, hair in her customary bun.

"Allison will see you," she informed me haughtily.

Angelica was obviously beside herself in anger at me, but I wasn't sure why.

The last time I'd seen her, when I'd gone to pick her and Samuel up to bring them home, the night I'd gotten her out of the cockroach infested dump and installed her in a hotel room, I'd been the perfect gentleman, leaving her at her door and not bothering her again until the next morning.

We'd picked up Samuel the next day, and I had dropped them at their house, the only conversation being between Samuel and me. Angelica had barely said a word.

Allison had not yet returned from Wright's house at that point, so I hadn't dallied, but left immediately to procure a room at the B & B. The next day I'd called Allison's cell phone to check on her, and it had been answered by an angry Angelica who informed me in no uncertain terms that Allison didn't wish to speak to me again...ever.

I'd then spent three days at the front gates of Wright's house, futilely attempting to gain admittance. I had been about to admit defeat when Mitch showed up.

Although I'd learned quite a bit from the visit, nothing had changed except that I knew I wasn't in the doghouse alone. Wright was in there with me.

"Are you going to let me by?" I asked calmly.

Angelica reluctantly moved out of the way and I saw Allison, holding the beast's leash, like that was going to do anything to hinder the brute from eating me alive, as if it was her lifeline.

"Allison..."

I moved towards her only to be stopped short by the low growl emanating from deep within the dog's throat. I seemed to have that affect on the canine world.

"Richard and I are going for a walk," Allison interrupted. "Come on, Buckshot, time for a potty break."

"Maybe Samuel could..." I trailed off as I noticed and interpreted the look on Allison's face.

"No, Buckshot stays with me," she said stubbornly. "We'll be back in a bit," she announced to the room in general.

I allowed her to precede me from the house—mainly because I had no intention of allowing Godzilla out of my sight and the idea of him being behind me at any point was more than I wanted to imagine—pulling the door shut after me. I joined her at the front gate and opened it for her, making a huge production out of closing it, stalling for time as I attempted to gather my thoughts, unsure how to begin.

I didn't have to worry, Allison had her own ideas.

"You knew," she accused me, "you knew and didn't tell me. I sat at that table in the diner and poured my heart out to you and you...you tried to convince me that I was throwing myself at him, that I...that I..."

She burst into tears, and I tried to put my arms around her, but the stupid dog kept moving in between us, baring his teeth snarling at me.

"I'm sorry, Allison, I wanted to tell you, but I...couldn't," I finished lamely, unwilling to bring up a name that was most definitely a sore spot with her.

"I...know..." she hiccupped. "He told me."

"I saw him earlier today," I offered tentatively, unsure how she would take the information.

"Ian...I mean Jake...see...I don't even know what to call him," fresh tears began to fall.

"It is rather confusing," I admitted carefully. "He said he told you the truth about...everything."

"Did he?" she asked bitterly. "Can I believe anything he says?"

"He did what he thought was best for you, Allison, misguided or not, he was only trying to protect you," I offered tentatively. "In a lot of ways he reminds me of Wilson, except of course for the scar, and the mountainous size, and the total lack of smile muscles..."

Allison lips moved upward at that.

"Ah, I knew I could get you to smile."

"You usually can."

"So does this mean you forgive me?" I asked hopefully. "I wanted to tell you..."

"I know. Al made sure of that."

"Hmm...Al...I guess you know..."

"That was a lie, too."

"Sorry."

"You realize that we can't ever tell anyone else what actually happened."

"Stinks doesn't it," I gave her a lop-sided grin.

"Pretty much," Allison agreed with a half smile of her own. "I'm sorry Angelica thinks you were shacking up with Al. She's been trying to hide it, but I can tell it's eating her up."

"That explains it," I said ruefully.

"What?"

"The bloody murder I saw in her eyes. I'm surprised she didn't pull out her old trusty .45 again."

"She wanted to, but I talked her out of it," Allison replied with a glimmer of amusement.

"She won't forgive me any time soon for going out 'womanizing' when I should have been trying to help Samuel. Even if I could tell her that I was helping him, she wouldn't believe me anyway."

"That's not what's bothering her," Allison contradicted me impatiently. "You are such an idiot."

"Can't argue with that," I said lightly. "About what am I being an idiot this time?"

"Angelica is in love with you, you moron," she said, frowning fiercely at me. "And I'm fairly certain you are in love with her, but she has this crazy idea that you don't believe love exists."

"I don't," I shrugged nonchalantly, although I was far from feeling it.

"Richard Lewis Stover, don't you dare say that to me," she scolded me angrily. "Did you actually tell her that? Say those words?"

"Why not? They're true."

"You're wrong; love is the most important thing on earth."

"Maybe other people want to go on deluding themselves into believing that's true...but for people like me, that type of delusion leads to nothing but pain that I can do without. Take Wright for instance...he's a dying man who thinks life isn't worth living, and he's shut himself up in that house and refuses to see anyone all in the name of love."

"What?" Allison's voice was barely above a whisper.

"You're killing him, Allison, by refusing to have anything to do with him. Oh don't worry, he won't shoot himself or anything like that, no he won't take the coward's way out, he'll just die slowly of a broken heart, hating himself for what he's done to you. The funny thing is, I think he believes he deserves it...deserves all the pain he's feeling, all the future pain he'll suffer, because of what he did to you."

As I said it, I knew it to be true. No one could hate Wright as much as he hated himself.

"No," she whispered in horror.

"Did you expect him to just suck it up and go on with life?" I asked harshly. "Is that what you're going to do? Go your merry way and forget about him?"

"I don't...I can't..."

"Sure, it's easy for you to say love is the most important thing on earth, but I can see you don't truly believe it...so why should I? You'd rather sit around feeling sorry for yourself, all self-righteous in your indignation at how you've been treated, at how we all lied to you, even if it means you and Wright are both miserable for the rest of your lives, than forgive and forget. Where's all that gooey churchy stuff now, huh? You say you believe it, but when push comes to shove they're nothing but empty words."

"Stop it," Allison dropped the leash and put her hands over her ears "just stop it."

"You wanted the truth, well better late than never, right? The truth is, Wright is not Wilson. He's done things, most likely unspeakable things, and he thinks he's dirt or less than dirt if there is such a thing, and you're just reinforcing that by shunning him. I doubt he ever really expected anything else. People like you and your sister are too good for those of us who are less than perfect...oh hell, just call a spade a spade...we're flawed, damaged goods, defective materials, whatever label you want to use, and even if we wanted to, we'd never measure up."

"Richard..."

"Forget it...forget I said anything...forget about me, about Wright...we're not worth your time."

I spun away from her abruptly and headed back towards the house, intent only on making it to my car and getting away as soon as possible. I was done trying to defend myself...or Wright for that matter. We had no defense.

I could hear Allison yelling at me to stop, but I ignored her. I didn't, however, attempt to ignore the barking that accompanied her shouts as the behemoth chased after me, serving as a catalyst speeding me on my way.

Starting the car, I glanced involuntarily towards the house and saw Angelica framed in the doorway and for a split second I could see it, see it all, her standing there with a loving smile on her face as I returned home from a day of work, opening her arms to me, kissing me in welcome, the smell of supper on the table, the kids in their rooms doing homework or something equally innocuous, Sophia on the couch reaching out blindly to grasp my hands...it was all there, there for the taking if what Allison believed was true, but I knew in my heart I would just mess it up, like I'd messed up my whole life, chasing after the wrong things, not knowing what was good for me, yearning for something indefinable and never finding it, never being contented, satisfied...happy.

I couldn't risk it. That was the truth I'd been hiding from myself for years. I simply couldn't risk it. What if I tried, and still failed? What if I didn't have it in me to succeed in my personal life? What if I actually was flawed, defective, damaged beyond all hope?

When I was younger, before Wilson came along, I thought that marrying Allison would redeem me in some small measure, that being married to someone who was good could save me, but then I realized I wasn't worthy enough to marry someone like her. That was what I mourned, not her per se, but the loss of hope, finally admitting to myself that maybe I was unsalvageable.

If Allison couldn't find something worth saving in Wright, the man she loved, what chance did I have?

I could feel the pain twisting my face as I stomped on the accelerator and spun out leaving the only two women I had ever cared about in a cloud of dirt.

Chapter 33

And Life Goes On...

I couldn't seem to fit back into my job, my house, my...life. Everything was wrong. Even the designer suits, which had been a part of me for more years than I cared to count, were too constrictive...too stifling.

I gave quite a few away to a local charity, keeping back a couple for court appearances, although I couldn't seem to part with the one Angelica had spilled coffee on or the one on which she had shed tears, and found a popular department store where I purchased some business casual slacks, shirts, jeans, and polo shirts. They felt strange at first, but I soon got used to them.

I quit spending so much time on my hair—what did it matter anyway—found a regular barber run by one of my pro bono clients and let him cut it the way he wanted to. Because my haircut was so much shorter, I found I had way too much time on my hands in the morning and decided to take a page out of Wilson's book and make an honest attempt to jog. The days I'd spent in Colorado had been severely lacking in any type of exercise, and I could feel myself going to seed. I did not enjoy the sensation.

I literally ran across Nick Barrett and Allison's daughter one Saturday morning and finally got to meet the elusive CeeCee. She frequently stayed at his parents' house on the weekends, and they always managed a five-mile run together. I doubted I would ever get past two, but it was something towards which to work.

They invited me over for a meal, but I took a rain check. Although I experienced guilt feelings over it, I'd refused to answer any of Allison's phone calls after the first one, and since I had no idea what Allison had told CeeCee about our relationship, I thought it best not to risk a confrontation.

My one conversation with Allison had been short and to the point.

"Have you made up with Wright yet?" I had asked abruptly before she could say anything.

"No, but I..." that was all I needed to hear; I hung up.

As long as Allison hadn't forgiven him, I couldn't talk to her—although I couldn't explain why—and I deleted all of her voice mails without listening to them.

My caseload was boring and uninteresting, my junior associates were competent and competitive enough to handle them adequately, each hoping to be the one to earn a promotion, and so I stopped going into the office, preferring to concentrate purely on pro bono work and using my home office for that purpose much to Phillip's annoyance.

There wasn't much I could do about my house—as much as I'd have liked to unload it and find a smaller apartment somewhere—because I would never do that to the Arnolds. They had been loyal to me far too many years for me to throw them out like an old newspaper, and they were too old to find new jobs easily, good ones at least.

Even though the first adjustments I made to myself were surface, external, I desperately needed to make internal changes, realizing that it wouldn't be easy and that there were some parts of the transformation that would be slower in coming, but eventually hoping to be able to make myself over, a new improved version of the old Richard.

The things I had admitted to Allison had come from somewhere deep inside of me and I realized that, like Wright, I hated myself. My past couldn't be altered, but I could do something about the present and with that in mind, I began to analyze which parts of my life were the ugliest and decided to start there.

I cut down on the stogies, instead of smoking whenever the mood struck me, I limited myself to one a month—they were making it hard to jog in the mornings and I was beginning to actually enjoy my morning runs—limited my drinking to a few social occasions that I was duty-bound to attend, even then never consuming more than one, and most importantly cut women totally out of my life.

Since Angelica, women no longer interested me, so with that in mind and being admittedly the most despicable part of my existence, I loped off the head of that monster cold turkey...no more women. In a way, it was depressing, sex had been a huge part of my life, but in a different way it was a relief...I felt cleaner somehow. I wasn't sure I could explain it, even to myself, much less anyone else, but I was glad that part of my life was in the past.

I knew I was in trouble the Saturday morning I spied Nick and CeeCee deliberately hunting me down. Although I tried to casually ignore them, heading in a different direction, it wasn't long before they caught up with me. They were both younger, and in better shape, and I never stood a chance.

"Hey Mr. Stover," CeeCee greeted me pleasantly.

"CeeCee...Nick" was all I could manage as I was always out of breath whenever I jogged. Racquetball and tennis hadn't come anywhere close to preparing me for that type of activity.

"We just wanted to invite you to church in the morning," Nick mentioned casually, not huffing or puffing at all, disgustingly enough.

"That's...very kind...of you," I wheezed, "I'll...keep that...in mind."

"Oh, and Mom said she hadn't talked to you in a while and was wondering if you could call her about...um...her mother."

I hadn't heard a sentence that long from CeeCee—although I'd only talked to her during our coinciding runs it never seemed to affect her air flow—and I knew from Allison that she was a fairly reserved person making it a difficult thing for her to do. She'd probably rehearsed it.

"I'll see...what I can...do," I gasped out.

"This is our turn," Nick said amicably. "Hope to see you in the morning."

I waved them off, unable to squeeze out any more words, and as soon as they rounded the corner and were out of sight, I stopped and bent over, heaving and nauseated.

How do they do that? I wondered in awe.

They hadn't even sounded like they were running, chatting casually, except for CeeCee's stumble over Violet. I was envious. That would never be me.

I understood CeeCee's uncertainty as to Violet's label. She didn't know her at all, and couldn't think of her as a grandmother, but knew her mother had a connection so was loathe to totally disown her.

I'd continued my weekend visits with Violet, she was the same as ever, but since I hadn't talked to Allison in weeks, I felt guilty about not keeping her informed.

I should call her.

I finally admitted to myself that I missed her.

As I straightened up, ready to go again, I firmly resolved to phone her as soon as I returned to the house...and had time to catch my breath.

~ * * ~

"Richard," Allison gushed before I could even say anything, "I knew you would call."

"Using my own MO against me now are you?" I asked sourly.

"I've always found guilt a very effective weapon," she teased.

"You sound good."

"I'm better than good, actually," Allison said impishly. "I'm getting married."

"You and Wright...?"

"Of course, I told you I loved him."

"Yeah so you said," I replied a bit churlishly "Took you long enough."

"No, it took him long enough," she corrected me.

"What are you talking about?"

"As soon as you took off in that ridiculously childish swirl of dust, I knew you were right," she answered playfully. "Does that make you feel better? I am admitting I was wrong and you were right. Well actually Jake is Wright and in more ways than one, and pretty soon I will be, but that's a different story."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Language, Richard," she reproached me laughingly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, that's the one I haven't done anything about yet," I acknowledged cryptically.

"What?"

"Nothing, go on, I love hearing that I was right and you were wrong, but I'm afraid you've lost me. You're not making much sense."

"I know, I'm sorry, I'll do better," she promised. "Right after you left, Buckshot and I headed straight over to Jake's house to apologize, but he wouldn't let me in."

"Been there, done that, got the t-shirt," I quipped.

"Mitch says 'hi' by the way, I can't believe you didn't recognize him."

"Should I have?"

"He's the Mitch Hunter...the star of the Agent Jack Knight movies that are based on Jake's...well...I. M. Donne's books."

"Sorry, I'm not a teenage girl so..."

"True, I'm not either, and Jake had to explain who he was to me, too," Allison admitted laughingly.

"So Jake wouldn't let you in..." I prompted patiently.

"No, but he sent Mitch out with a stupid note saying about the same thing you had said about him, that he felt he wasn't good enough or good for me and that I should move on and forget about him."

"Doesn't know you very well, does he?"

"He does now. To make a long story short, Mitch decided to help me and I finally managed to get it through his thick head that we belonged together and now we're getting married."

"I'm happy for you," I said sincerely. "But I just want to make one thing very clear..."

"What's that?" she asked worriedly.

"I am not walking you down the aisle this time," I chuckled. "Wright is just looking for an excuse to murder me and I'm not giving it to him."

"Probably best," Allison agreed wholeheartedly. "You never told me what you said to him at the airport," she added reproachfully. "So it's your own fault that he thought we were lovers and feels the need to annihilate you."

"Yeah, me and my big mouth," I conceded resignedly. "When and where will this joyous occasion take place?"

"We'll be flying back to Texas this next week and getting the license," she informed me with barely concealed excitement. "We were thinking about next Saturday, if you don't mind."

"Why should I mind?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well...since neither Mitch nor Shun can be there for the wedding, they're both in the middle of filming the new Jack Knight movie and Mitch left them in the lurch when he rushed over here to check on Jake and had to get back—the director was throwing a fit—I convinced Jake to use you as the best man."

"You did what? You really are trying to get me killed," I accused then added as an afterthought "Who's Shun?"

"Shun is Jake's oldest and dearest friend and he does the fight choreography in all of the movies and since, as I said, he and Mitch can't be at the wedding, that only leaves a handful of people who know Jake and Ian are one and the same and..."

"I'm one of them," I finished for her. "You ask too much sometimes, you know that right?"

"You are more like a brother to me than...well, you know...and Jake understands, really he does, and..."

"And he solemnly swears to refrain from inflicting any type of injury on my personage or in his case, murdering me with or without leaving a mark?"

"Richard, he wouldn't hurt you."

"Fine, I'll be his best man," I muttered. "I can see the headlines now, Murdered Best Man Found in Gutter: Story at Ten."

"Oh and one other thing..."

"What now?" I asked sighing heavily.

"Jake will be looking for a house to buy there in Austin and I was wondering if you might help us out."

"You're moving here?"

"Well, yes, Jake knows how much I miss Mark and CeeCee and then there's my mother still in the home and..."

"I get it...family is the most important thing in the world to you."

"You know you're part of that family."

"Am I?" I asked wryly "Is that why you bulldozed poor Nick into asking me to church."

"I think it would be good for you."

"Maybe...or maybe I'm so far gone they'll bar the door to keep out the bad influence," I suggested sardonically. "So tell me, what type of house and in what area, and I'll look around for you."

"I like the area you're in, actually. It's close to where CeeCee and Nick will be living after they get married next summer and it's a gorgeous area, so if you wouldn't mind us for neighbors..."

"How about I sell you my house?"

"Oh, Richard, you wouldn't move just because Jake and I are thinking about..."

"No, of course not, it's just that I have this massive house and I'm hardly ever home so I've been thinking about unloading it, but I can't bring myself to let the Arnolds go. You met my housekeeper Mrs. Arnold, her husband is the gardener, and they're in their sixties. You know how hard it would be for them to find another place. I feel like I owe them for sticking with me through the 'dark years'."

"So you really are thinking about selling, you're not just saying that?"

"You know, the Arnolds would love working for you," I couldn't help grinning. "And they live in the guest house, so you would have plenty of privacy."

"That would be so perfect," Allison said in delight. "I'll talk to Jake about it."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled with more Stover hand-me-downs," I said wickedly.

"If I didn't love you so much, I'd murder you myself," Allison replied loftily.

"And I would deserve it."

Chapter 34

Aw Man, Not Again...

"What are you trying to do, Allison?" I asked between clenched teeth.

"I don't know what you mean," she denied quickly, refusing to meet my eyes as she pretended to examine her reflection in the mirror.

"Look me straight in the eye and try that line again," I suggested irately.

"I'm getting married in less than thirty minutes, Richard, and I have things..."

"Not buying it," I interrupted abruptly. "You're perfect, as always, and I know better than to believe you're that interested in your own reflection."

Allison reluctantly turned towards me, "It's not my fault that you and Angelica have a...an issue. I wanted both of you at my wedding and I wasn't taking 'no' for an answer."

"I have no problem being here, but by making me 'Best Man' and her "Maid of Honor' you've managed to throw us together at every opportunity and I for one am tired of it."

"Matron of Honor," she corrected automatically. "Or is it Maid...she is a widow...so technically she's single...but she was married so I would hardly think..."

"Just shut up already," I groused. "All I want from you is your promise that you'll stop playing matchmaker...got it?"

"She will need a ride to the airport tomorrow," Allison pointed out mildly.

"And I'll see that she gets it...from someone else."

"Richard," Allison reproached me, "she doesn't know anybody else."

"You are severely trying my patience," I warned.

"You care about her—I know you do—so denying it is futile."

"The only thing I won't deny, since you seem to think my love life is somehow your business, is that I want her, but like you she seems to need a ring on her finger before she'll put out and I'm not living that nightmare again...so impasse."

"Richard!"

"Oh come off it, Allison," I scoffed. "How many years have you known me? Don't tell me you're surprised by the way I think or the fact that I have no finer feelings."

"I don't believe that," she objected fiercely. "I know you care about me and I firmly believe that you love Angelica if you would just let yourself..."

"Drop it, Allison, or I will walk out of here and you'll never see or hear from me again," I threatened ominously.

"Richard, you can't..."

"Yes I can mean that," I broke in angrily. "Promise me now that you'll butt out of my love life or I'm gone."

There was silence as we stared at each other, tears forming in Allison's eyes, anger blinding mine. I'd had all of the temptation I could handle and for my own sanity I wasn't going to be able to be in close proximity to Angelica for much longer. My self-control had taken a severe beating since she'd arrived and I wasn't sure how much longer I would be able to resist the urge to...

I pulled my thoughts up short, knowing I couldn't afford to allow myself to even picture...oh hell, I was picturing it anyway...

I know, I know...stop using foul language...Allison...Angelica...stop it...stop it...STOP IT!

"Richard," Allison placed a tentative hand on my arm in concern "Are you alright?" she asked anxiously. "I'm truly sorry I've distressed you. I meant well."

I closed my eyes, attempting to exert some control over my rampant emotions as I concentrated on breathing evenly.

"Richard?" she repeated in alarm as a knock interrupted us.

"I'm fine," I replied hoarsely. "Wright will be wondering where I am," I continued as I opened the door and came face to face with Angelica, CeeCee, and Elizabeth.

Brusquely I brushed passed them, holding my breath and averting my eyes, admitting that just the scent or sight of Angelica was enough to drive me wild.

I made it safely to the room where Jake was pacing back and forth, the only external indication of nervousness he would allow himself.

"What's wrong, Stover," he asked harshly. "Is Allison...?"

"Allison is great...wonderful...never been better," I assured him bitterly.

"Ah..." that one syllable held a wealth of meaning.

"You know what she's trying to do," I accused. "That makes you an accessory."

"In my defense, I tried to talk her out of it, but you should know better than anyone what she's like once she gets an idea in her head."

"I do," I acknowledged grudgingly. "Thanks for trying."

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but Mark and Samuel laughingly entered the room at that moment and he settled for "Sorry, Stover."

Allison had insisted on a regular church wedding, much to my disgust, using the building where the Barretts attended and Nick had invited me to services—I'd been hoping that we'd all stand up in front of the Justice of the Peace and get everything over with quickly, weddings being way down on my list of favorite things to do since my own debacle—but Jake had never been married before and Allison was determined to start off their life together in what she considered the 'right' way. I personally didn't believe there was any 'right' way.

She'd made CeeCee and Elizabeth bridesmaids, and Jake had agreed to use Samuel and Mark as groomsmen. I wished she'd just stuck to those four and left me out of it, but that was too much to ask of her.

I managed to avoid Angelica for the most part, until the end of the ceremony when she had to take my arm and allow me to escort her back down the aisle. Gritting my teeth and staring straight ahead, I made it safely to the foyer and pulled myself away from her, putting as much distance between us as I could manage. I was the first to enter the activity center where the reception was being held, all the others hanging around in the foyer hugging and crying.

Yada, yada, yada, I thought impatiently ready for it all to be over so I could beat a hasty retreat out of there.

Jake had drawn the line at having to perform the traditional reception rituals, for which I was grateful as that meant I could be out of there that much sooner, and instead invited the guests to a catered sit-down meal after the wedding.

"Butt-in-ski," I muttered as I noticed the place cards at the head table. Of course, she had Angelica in the seat next to me.

I was standing there, deciding which table to move my card to before the masses arrived and it was too late, when a familiarly sexy voice whispered in my ear, "Miss me?"

Chuckling in amusement, without turning around I murmured, "Yeah, like I miss teenage acne."

"I'd forgotten how mean you are," Al pouted as I moved to face her. "That's okay though, I still love you," she assured me as she pulled my lips down to meet hers.

I wanted to feel something, I'd felt dead inside for too long, but as I put my arms around her and pulled her closer I knew it was no use. There was not even a spark, a flicker of flame, much less the fiery inferno I felt every time I merely looked at Angelica.

"Still nothing?" she asked against my lips.

"Sorry," I replied contritely as I put her firmly away from me noticing how full the Activity Center had become during our short interlude.

"I had to try," she shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "So who's the lucky lady?"

"Lucky lady?" I repeated innocently.

"Don't pretend with me," she chastised, "I lived with you and I know you too well to let you get away with that."

"I don't know..." I began.

"Hmm...you don't have to answer; I think it's pretty obvious."

"It is?" I asked knitting my brow in puzzlement.

"Well, either that or there's some other reason that woman over there is glaring daggers at us," she pointed out in amusement.

I couldn't not look, as hard as I tried. Against my will, my head swiveled in the direction Al indicated and sure enough, there was Angelica with eyes shooting sparks. Our gaze locked for a brief moment before she spun around and disappeared out the door.

The emotional upheaval rushing through my body was too difficult to decipher, so I didn't waste any time on self-examination as I quickly excused myself from Al and followed Angelica as she left the building. Once outside I glanced around the church grounds, barely catching sight of her deep blue dress as it disappeared into one of the side doors of the church building.

As I made the foyer, my eyes searched out every nook and cranny, but she had disappeared. I stepped into the auditorium, determined to locate her, but it was empty except for the wedding decorations, all the other guests having filtered towards the reception. Reentering the foyer, I was about to move down a hallway to continue my search when I heard it; Angelica was in the ladies' room crying.

I didn't stop to think, just burst into the room. Angelica wasn't immediately visible, and as I passed the sinks on my right and the stalls on my left, all I could do was follow the sounds of sobbing to a small alcove beyond the stalls; and there she was, curled up on the floor, weeping inconsolably.

The searing pain I felt witnessing her agony had me on my knees in front of her, grasping her shoulders and urging her into my arms. She didn't protest.

"Angelica," I whispered in her hair as I held her.

I could feel her body stiffen as she recognized my voice.

"No!" she attempted to push me away. "Not you! I don't want you!"

"That's funny," I responded scornfully, inexplicably angry at her rejection, "since I'm fairly certain I'm the reason for your tears."

"You...you...I hate you, do you hear me, hate you," she practically screamed at me. "Go away and leave me alone!"

"Don't you think I would if I could," I asked wrathfully. "Do you think I enjoy being tortured by you?"

"Tortured...?" she asked, confusion replacing some of the fury in her eyes.

"I can't..." with a sound of disgust I moved both of my hands from her shoulders to grasp her hair, for once not in its customary bun, yanked her head backwards and, ignoring her gasp of surprise, crushed her lips with mine.

Her body as well as her lips went limp with exhaustion, I could feel she didn't have the strength to fight me, and determined to elicit a response from her I softened and began gently caressing her lips with mine. At first, there was only a tentative movement, but it wasn't long before I could feel her whole body answering the need in mine as her hands crept up to caress my neck and she arched toward me.

"Angelica," I couldn't seem to keep the pleading note out of my voice as I planted kisses along her jaw line and moved down her throat, "let me love you."

Once again, I could feel her body stiffen in resistance and knew I had said the wrong thing.

"You don't love me," she whispered brokenly as she attempted unsuccessfully to put some distance between us.

"You want me," I insisted softly against her skin, as I adamantly refused to allow her to push me away.

My lips found hers again. and she couldn't seem to help herself anymore than I could as the heat between us grew...the fact that we were on the floor in the ladies room a trivial detail. Somehow, I found myself sitting, back against the wall, with her in my lap, and the feel of her body against mine was more intoxicating than I could ever have imagined.

I lost all track of time as I unzipped her dress, pushing it out of the way exploring her body with my hands and lips as her moans of pleasure excited me to a point of no return.

Chapter 35

I'm So Confused...

"Ow," I complained, rubbing the back of my head, the part that had just banged into the bathroom wall.

Angelica had violently shoved me off, and with a shoe in one hand was frantically searching for the other one.

"Angelica..."

"Don't talk to me!"

She located her other shoe and her panties, which had apparently landed on the nearest sink, and moved towards one of the stalls, locking herself in.

"You wanted it as much as I did," I pointed out as I stood and began readjusting my own clothing.

"Just go away!"

After notching my belt and straightening my tie, I moved towards the stall.

"Don't be like that."

"You...we...this is a church!"

The stall opened, and Angelica pushed me back into one of the sinks.

"You got what you wanted from me, now leave me alone," she stormed towards the exit adding, "and don't bother sending me a bauble, I'm not a prostitute."

She slammed her way out of the bathroom, and I followed more slowly, trying to decipher the emptiness engulfing me. Making love to Angelica, even on a public bathroom floor, had been the most incredible experience of my life, but I was left with what I could only describe as a bad taste in my mouth...and I had no idea why.

Standing in front of the church building watching as Angelica disappeared into the Activity Center, I was torn...I wanted to go back to the reception and see her, but at the same time I knew she was absolutely livid and I was loathe to face her. Even though she had met me halfway—it had been almost as if she couldn't help herself anymore than I could, that our passion for each other was so overwhelming that she didn't have the strength to fight it—she hadn't wanted it to happen.

That Angelica blamed me was inarguable, she'd said 'no' often enough, and I knew deep down that I'd seduced her against her will, but she had responded to me. I kept repeating that over and over, trying to alleviate the guilt that plagued me. I'd never felt remorse over making love to a woman before and I wasn't enjoying the sensation; it was ruining the entire incredible experience for me.

Turning toward the parking lot, I located my Mercedes and throwing it into gear, spun out in my haste to escape the 'scene of the crime.'

~ * * ~

"Richard," the whispered horror in Allison's voice told me clearer than words that she knew, "what have you done?"

"Which time?" I asked with feigned flippancy.

"Don't make a joke out of this," Allison sounded almost hysterical.

"I thought you were still on your honeymoon. I'm sure Wright appreciates you calling another man, especially since that man is me, when you're supposed to concentrating on him."

"I am...we are still on our honeymoon, but..."

"It's not the end of the world," I interrupted brusquely, "and it's also none of your business. Your sister's a big girl now..."

"How can you not feel any type of remorse or responsibility?" she asked disbelievingly. "You married Nat even when you knew there was a chance that the child wasn't yours, I mean she slept with everybody and their dog, but this time..."

"What do you mean...this time?" I interrupted abruptly.

"There's no way you can deny it," she finished as if she hadn't heard me.

"Deny what?" I asked incensed at what I considered Allison's overreaction. "I'm admitting it. Do you want me to say the words? Okay, fine, we had sex; there...are you happy now?"

"So you admit you got Angelica pregnant," Allison asked incredulously, "but you don't care enough to do anything about it?"

"Pregnant?" I repeated in a stunned voice. "How could she be pregnant?"

"Hello...you just confessed to..."

"Yeah, we...but I never thought...she couldn't be..." my mind was in confused turmoil.

"You...you didn't know...?" Allison asked with an odd inflection.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked desperately. "Did she tell you that?"

"No, but Sophia called me and she thinks..."

"Sophia called you because she thinks Angelica's pregnant?" I asked scornfully, relieved. "In case you haven't noticed, Allison, Sophia is blind."

"You...oh...ugh...here you talk to him before I say something I'm going to regret," I could hear Allison talking, but I knew it wasn't to me.

"Stover," Wright acknowledged me, coldly polite.

"Wright," I returned the greeting just as frostily.

"Allison has kindly given me permission to pound you into dust if you haven't resolved this issue to her satisfaction by the time we return from our honeymoon, which gives you approximately one week," he said matter-of-factly, ending the call as soon as he'd finished delivering his ultimatum.

I knew he spoke the truth. Allison was so enraged that I was sure she would be standing on the sidelines cheering him on as he merrily beat the crap out of me.

However, I couldn't think about that at the moment, having more important matters to attend to. Could Angelica be pregnant? I supposed it was possible, although I would have thought she'd be too old. Unlike men, I knew women had a biological clock, and I guess I'd assumed hers had stopped ticking or at the very least that she would have protected herself, be on birth control or something.

I hadn't been prepared that day, seeing no need since making my decision to abstain, and even if I'd thought to take a condom with me, I was fairly certain it wouldn't have even crossed my mind to use it until afterwards. Angelica had that effect on me.

Calling would be useless; I had to see for myself. If Angelica was pregnant, why hadn't she let me know? No, she couldn't be...she would have been on the phone demanding I marry her if she were. Sophia was mistaken.

Still, I didn't want to give Wright any reason to use me as a punching bag.

Resignedly, I reached for the phone.

~ * * ~

Stepping out of the rented SUV, I moved toward the white picket fence, halting abruptly as a bullet danced in the dirt a foot away.

"Not very original, Angelica," I mocked. "I've already seen your Wild West Show."

"The next one goes in your leg," she warned.

I was silent for a moment, pondering the best approach.

"Sophia, are you sure?" I asked cryptically.

"Si."

I heard the firm tone of her voice and, with a sinking heart, realized it was true. Sophia might be blind but, even though I hated to admit it, she saw more than most people.

"Mama, what did you do?" Angelica asked in alarm.

I began moving resolutely towards the door.

"Stay back or I swear I'll shoot you!" Angelica shouted.

"Would you really shoot the father of your baby?" I asked softly through the window as I reached for the doorknob.

"How...?" she faltered then continued defiantly, "it would be no more than you deserved."

I opened the door and stood face to face with the woman I still couldn't seem to stop dreaming about.

"You won't get any argument from me," I assured her.

"Why are you here?" she whispered hoarsely.

"I think you can guess."

"Sophia should not have called you."

"Sophia didn't call me."

"Then how...?"

"That doesn't matter," I replied dismissively. "I shouldn't have had to hear it second or third hand. You should have told me."

"He is right, my Angelica," Sophia said reprovingly.

"Stay out of this, Mama."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew what you would think."

"So you're a mind reader now?"

"Yours is easy enough to read," she answered contemptuously.

"Okay, then tell me, what am I thinking," I encouraged her gently.

"You are thinking that I expect you to marry me."

"Do you?"

"No! I don't want anything from you but to be left alone."

She turned away from me, but I wasn't through yet. Grabbing her arm, I jerked her back around to face me.

"You want our baby to be born a bastard?" I asked scornfully.

"My baby will be loved just as I was loved," she answered defiantly. "And before you offer, the answer is no, I would never consider an abortion."

"I would never ask you to," I replied calmly.

"Aren't you worried about your precious reputation" she asked disdainfully, "like my father was?"

"I refuse to allow you to compare me to him," I retorted angrily. "I am nothing like Lowell Tate."

Angelica snorted in disbelief.

"Sophia, where are Samuel and Elizabeth?"

"School," she answered promptly.

"Will you and the kids be okay overnight?" I asked my eyes never leaving Angelica's face. I saw hers widen in apprehension.

"Si," Sophia responded quickly.

"Go pack some clothes," I firmly propelled Angelica towards her bedroom. "And put that stinkin' gun away. I'm tired of being used for target practice."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she shook my hand off her arm and turned to face me. "You've done enough already."

"Are you carrying my child?"

"Are you?" I repeated when she refused to answer.

"Yes," her shoulders slumped as she bowed her head in defeat.

"And do you think a father should have the right to be involved in their child's life if they so choose?"

She nodded silently, staring at the floor.

"Good," I said approvingly, "then it's settled. Go pack your things and make sure you wear something appropriate for a marriage ceremony. Oh, and we will need your late husband's death certificate, and see if you can find a copy of your birth certificate and Social Security card. Sophia, we should be back by tomorrow evening...tomorrow night at the latest. Are you sure you and the kids will be okay while we're gone?"

"Si, yes, all will be well."

I knew she was talking to Angelica as much as to me.

"Mama..." Angelica began uncertainly.

"It is right," she said simply.

Angelica left the room without a word.

"Come sit," Sophia ordered firmly.

I sat.

"Be kind to her," she commanded. "Like my Lowell, you do not know you have love, but you learn. She teach you."

"Sophia," I shook my head sadly, "I'm not sure it's possible for me, but if anyone can teach me, Angelica can," I admitted.

"That is enough for now," she sighed in relief.

I walked outside, using my cell phone to make reservations to fly from Denver to Las Vegas. We had four hours before take-off.

Placing two more phone calls, I ordered a limo to pick us up at the Vegas airport and made a reservation at the Bellagio. We only had one night for a honeymoon, but I planned to make the most of it and the Bellagio with its spectacular fountain, fine dining, and general elegant air seemed to me to be one of the more romantic hotels in Vegas. I was sure Angelica would like it.

As I reentered the house, Angelica emerged from the bedroom wearing a sleeveless off white silk dress, which clung to her like a second skin, and the sight of her took my breath away.

"Perfect," I pretended to compliment her dress when I was actually referring to her, unsure what her reaction would be to such a personal observation.

"Richard, I don't think..."

"The plane leaves in four hours, we don't have time think...or to dawdle," I said briskly, taking her suitcase from her and carrying it towards the door, stopping to give Sophia a peck on the cheek.

"You have the cell phone Allison gave you?"

"Si," she held it up for me to see.

I set the suitcase down and took the phone from her, programming in my number as number two on her speed dial. Allison had taken the number one spot.

"Just push number two if you need me," I handed the phone back and picked up the suitcase. "Don't worry about what time it is, even if it's in the middle of the night...you call me if you need me."

"Gracias, Richard," she smiled in my general direction.

"De nada," I answered gently. "Don't be too long," I warned Angelica as I left them alone to say their goodbyes.

I sat in the rental, waiting for Angelica, pondering what I had just committed myself to and why. I'd been all set to accuse Angelica of trying to manipulate me into marrying her, but the minute...the very second...that she had let me off the hook and in fact had tried to get rid of me, I contrarily decided that I was the one who wanted to force her into marrying me.

Truth be told, I wasn't done with her, not by a long shot. In the three weeks since Allison's wedding, I hadn't been able to get her off my mind. I still wanted her more than I'd ever wanted any other woman and I wasn't sure that was going to change any time soon.

The thought of having her in my bed, every night, having the right to touch her any time I wanted was...tantalizing, but I knew I couldn't tell her that. Instinctively I realized that if she thought for one moment I was using the baby as an excuse to make her my own personal sex slave, she'd refuse to have anything more to do with me.

Angelica was halfway to the vehicle before I noticed her and I jumped out quickly to help her into the SUV, realizing it was probably taller than she was accustomed to, especially in her condition.

"I can fasten my own seatbelt," she glared at me as I buckled her in.

"Just practicing," I returned lightly as I shut her door and made my way around the vehicle to the driver's side.

We were silent as I navigated the potholes in the road.

As soon as we were clear of town, I nonchalantly commented, "There aren't many places to stop between here and Denver, but if you'll try to give me plenty of warning, I'll find you a bathroom when you need one."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I know how hard pregnancy can be on the bladder," I answered deliberately misunderstanding her.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

"Why don't we pretend that's what you're talking about," I suggested mildly.

"I want to know why you're so gung-ho to get married all of a sudden," she insisted. "You made it perfectly clear you weren't interested in being tied down."

"That was before there was an innocent human life involved."

"So this is all about the baby."

"What else?" I asked evasively.

She was silent for a couple of minutes then asked, "What about Al?"

"What about her?" I countered.

"Won't she be upset once she finds out you're married?"

"Maybe," I shrugged indifferently.

"Doesn't it concern you at all; how much you hurt the women who care about you?"

"Al knows the score."

"But I don't," Angelica whispered in anguish. "You went straight from kissing her to...to..."

"That was a goodbye kiss."

"You're not...seeing her anymore?"

"No," I replied shortly.

Again, she was silent, and I wondered what was coming next. I would have to talk to Wright about letting Angelica in on his little secret. I didn't relish having to suffer through anymore conversations like the one Angelica was forcing on me.

"Did you love her?" she asked tentatively.

"No," I answered brusquely.

"But you slept with her."

Technically, she had me there, we had shared the same bed, but that was all. I chose to ignore her statement.

"You stayed together at the bed and breakfast for over a week," she persisted.

Still no question; I kept my mouth shut.

"You must have had some feelings for her."

"Is there a question coming soon or are you just going to keep up a running commentary of my life?" I asked sarcastically, realizing she wasn't going to quit.

"Fine, I do have a question for you...How could you have sex with her after the things you said to me?"

"And what things were those?" I stalled, hoping to come up with a good answer.

"You know what things."

I sighed heavily, there was only one thing I could do. I seriously doubted in the mood she was in whether Angelica would go through with the marriage ceremony until she got answers to her questions, and my hands were tied.

"Here," I pulled my cell phone out and handed it to her, "Call your sister and then tell her I have to speak with her...with Wright."

Angelica took the phone from me as if it were a snake.

"Push the green button and arrow down until you get to her name, then push the green button again," I directed.

She did as I asked and then waited until someone answered.

"No, it's Angelica," she corrected and then listened for a few seconds. "No, actually he said he needs to speak with you. Here he is."

She handed me the phone.

"I need your okay to tell Angelica the truth," I began without preamble.

"Why?"

"Because we're on our way to Vegas to be married, and she's asking awkward questions about a mutual friend of ours. Unless she gets some answers, your wife isn't going to get her fairy tale ending," I said sourly.

"How much do you plan to tell her?"

"Everything," I answered abruptly.

"Not until after the ceremony."

"You're not listening," I returned impatiently. "There may not be a ceremony."

"That's your problem, you have my answer."

"Damn, I hate it when he hangs up on me," I muttered to myself as I threw the phone into the back seat.

"Richard, what's going on?" Angelica asked suspiciously.

"Apparently, I can't tell you until after we're married," I answered irritably.

"Does this have to do with you and Al?"

"That's part of it."

"And about Allison's kidnapping...?"

"Yes," I replied tersely.

"And Samuel...?"

"Look," I interrupted rudely, "I can't tell you anything until we are husband and wife. I think you should have been told the truth from the start and although I'm fairly certain he doesn't want me to tell you at all he can hardly deny me what he..." I stopped abruptly, in danger of saying too much.

"He told Allison everything, didn't he?"

She was sharp, I had to give her that.

"Could you do me a favor and stop asking questions you know I can't answer until after we're married?"

~ * * ~

How long is she going to be in there? I wondered impatiently.

Angelica had handed me all of the paperwork she'd brought with her and then requested a few minutes in the bathroom before the ceremony. She'd already been in there for more than ten minutes, and I was beginning to think she wasn't coming out.

"Are you ready?" a polite voice asked from behind me.

"She just needs a bit more time," I turned to placate the man who was to perform the ceremony.

"I'm ready," Angelica announced softly.

"Good...good," the man moved into the chapel and beckoned for us to follow.

"Are you sure?" I don't know why I asked, but I needed reassurance that she was, if not one hundred percent for the marriage, at least not totally against it.

She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath.

"I'm sure," she answered with a ghost of a smile.

I offered her my arm and she put her hand in the crook. Unlike my first wedding day, I felt absolutely no panic as I escorted her down the aisle towards the waiting clergyman.

~ * * ~

"Let's get checked into the hotel and find you someplace to eat," I suggested as I helped Angelica, my wife—I actually liked the way that sounded—into the limo after the wedding ceremony.

I could tell from her expression when we arrived at the airport earlier that she'd never been in a limo before, and I whispered a few suggestions to her as I helped her in the first time. She was extremely tired, but she was a fast learner, and I was proud of the way she was handling all of the strange new things she'd never before experienced.

"I am rather hungry," she admitted as I joined her.

"There are quite a few places to choose from at the hotel or I could take you somewhere else if you'd rather," I offered more than willing to accommodate her.

"If you don't mind, I...I'd rather not go too far, I'm just so...tired," she replied hesitantly. "I'm sorry. If you want to go..."

"Trying to get rid of me already," I joked.

"No...I just..."

"I'm teasing you, Angelica," I chuckled. "I guess it's a bit late to warn you that I do that a lot."

"Allison told me," she smiled tiredly. "That's a side of you I haven't seen."

"Hmm...true, we don't know each other very well," I said thoughtfully. "I'm looking forward to seeing the different sides of you," I added grinning wickedly.

Angelica laughed and I stared at her, mesmerized by how it changed her whole face. I'd seen her in many different emotional states, but I couldn't recall ever seeing her laugh.

"What's wrong?" she asked in concern, the laughter dying quickly at the look on my face.

"I like your laugh," I replied honestly. "I'll have to see how many I can pull out of you in the next few hours."

"Ew..." she pretended to shudder, "you make it sound like a trip to the dentist."

"They do use laughing gas," I pointed out. "So that's fitting."

"Well, I'm going to make it hard on you," she decided, "I'm so tired you're going to have to work at it if you expect me to laugh anymore than I already have."

"That's an irresistible challenge. I accept."

We pulled up in front of the hotel and the staff rushed around eager to be of service. Angelica smiled and thanked each one in turn.

"Oh Richard," Angelica breathed in amazement, "the fountain is so beautiful."

"I thought you'd like it."

"I do, and everyone is so nice and helpful," she continued as I led her into the foyer of the hotel.

"Yes, they are."

I could have told her it was because of her, that she, like her sister, had never met a stranger and treated everyone with respect and kindness and in return, people fell all over themselves to help them, but I figured she wouldn't believe me.

I signed us in with relish, amazed at the totally opposite emotion writing Mr. and Mrs. Richard Stover in the guest book evoked compared to more than twenty years earlier when I'd cringed every time I allowed myself even to think about the woman I'd married.

Angelica chatted with the bellhop all the way up the elevator to our room and he was her slave for life by the time I tipped him and sent him on his way. I hid my smile, knowing Angelica would notice and ask me about it, unwilling to do anything to make her self-conscious or second-guess herself. She had a natural way with people, and I enjoyed watching her interact, proud of the fact that she belonged to me.

"Everything here is absolutely gorgeous," she walked over to the window, gazing out at the view.

I had the sudden urge to wrap my arms around her and for a moment struggled with the right thing to do. Controlling my accelerated breathing as best I could, I slowly moved into position behind her and carefully slid my arms under hers, curling them around her waist and gently pulling her back against me. I felt her stiffen and then relax as her body met mine.

"You are absolutely gorgeous," I whispered in her ear.

"Tell me about you and Al," she murmured.

"There is no me and Al, there never has been."

"But you..."

I turned Angelica toward me, forcing her to look me in the eye.

"Al is some sort of government agent," I held up my hand to forestall the question on her lips "and don't ask me what agency because I don't know. What I do know is that she was there to protect Allison and I was the best cover for her."

"From the crazed stalker fan...?"

"He was not a crazed stalker fan, he wanted revenge for...something Wright had done to him and was planning to kill Allison with Wright watching in order to exact that revenge."

"That's...inhuman," Angelica exclaimed in horror.

"I had to do what I could to help," I shrugged, "and my part was to play the role of Al's excuse to stay close to Allison."

"So you didn't...sleep with her?"

"I slept with her, in the same bed, but we were never lovers. I haven't made love to any woman, other than you, since we met."

"What about the lipstick on your collar that time...?"

"That was Al, the first time we met, in Denver."

"You'd just met...?"

"We...danced," I shrugged, hoping she would leave it at that.

"Danced? How do you get lipstick on your collar from just dancing?"

"We had to be...close so we wouldn't be overheard," I admitted reluctantly.

"How close?"

"We pretended to make out while we...talked; Al's idea, not mine."

"You didn't object, though."

"I've never been attracted to Al and we didn't have sex," I sighed heavily. "I don't know what else you want me to say."

"But you've known a lot of other women..."

"Yes," I answered shortly.

"How many have you...?"

"I have no idea," I shrugged, trying to appear indifferent although I was far from feeling it. "A lot," I added harshly.

"Are you planning to cheat on me?" she asked fighting back tears.

"Am I planning to cheat on you?" I repeated grimacing. "No."

"What does that mean...exactly?"

"Right now you're the only one I think about, day and night, no one else, not even Al, appeals to me," I explained as honestly as I could, "but I don't have a good track record with the whole 'faithful until death' thing. I truthfully have every intention of honoring the vows I took with you, but this is uncharted territory for me and I know very little about the type of relationship that Allison and Wilson had and that you're probably expecting. Monogamy is not something many people in my circle of acquaintances practice."

"You promise to try?" she asked with trepidation.

"I'm committed to making this marriage work," I pulled her into my arms and buried my face in her hair. "You'll have to be patient with me, though, because I have no idea what the heck I'm doing."

~ * * ~

I lay in the bed staring at the ceiling lost in thought, left hand under my head while my right hand absently played with the strands of Angelica's soft, shiny black hair splayed sexily across my chest, fingers caressing them as she slept curled into my left side, her face hidden in my neck.

For the first time in my life, I felt contentment.

My biggest regret at that moment was that our wedding night had been tainted by my selfish determination to have Angelica, no matter the cost, instead of realizing there was a right way to do things...that it wouldn't be worth it any other way.

Lying there, her warm body pressed against mine, I finally admitted to myself that she was the one I'd been subconsciously waiting for my whole life, the only woman who had any hope of making me happy, and I'd almost lost her through my own self-centeredness and stupidity.

She hadn't held any of herself back once I'd promised to do my best to be a good husband and to work hard in order for our marriage to succeed, and the resulting union between us was more incredible than I could ever have hoped for or imagined, with none of the resulting dissatisfied feelings of our last unfortunate encounter.

For once, optimism filled me...optimism about our future. Incredibly, Angelica loved me, even though I didn't deserve it and still wasn't sure what it meant, and was willing to be patient while I figured out my own emotional tangle.

And tangle it was. In my world, I was what women wanted and men envied: money, success, good looks...I had it all, but in Angelica's world, I was foul, corrupt, vile, blemished...all the things I had admitted to myself and to Allison...and therefore not worthy of someone as pure and good as Angelica.

From the start, she had fought her attraction to me, her instinctual distrust and avoidance of me dead on target, but even her instincts, as good as they were, couldn't save her. If I'd had any decency in me, I would have quietly slipped out of her life as soon as I realized what type of woman she was, but I possessed no such integrity. I'd always gotten everything I ever wanted—with the one exception of Allison who had been resourceful enough to escape my evil clutches in order to spare herself the lifetime of pain I would have surely caused her—and in my mind it was no more than I deserved.

I was special, wasn't I? Why shouldn't I have it all?

But I wasn't special...I was a scumbag, lower than dirt, a user of women for my own selfish ends, and I hated what I had become.

"Hey," a sleepy voice interrupted my musings.

"Hey yourself," I replied softly.

"Have you been awake long?" she asked glancing over at the clock.

"About an hour, I was debating about ordering room service again, but couldn't bring myself to move."

"Hmm..." she murmured as she stretched lazily, her body rubbing against mine, "I love room service."

"I love touching you," I whispered in her hair, as my hands seemed to develop a mind of their own, tracing sensuously along her ribcage and down to her hips pulling her closer to me as I turned towards her. "Thank you for last night," I murmured in her ear as I nibbled her earlobe.

"It was good for you?" she asked uncertainly.

"You're incredible," I assured her, my lips trailing down her throat to the hollow of her collarbone.

My head popped up suddenly as an unpleasant thought occurred to me.

"Was it good for you?" I asked frowning, disliking the unaccustomed doubt invading my mind. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, it was...as you said...incredible," she hastened to assure me. "It's just that...I was wondering..." she stopped obviously embarrassed as she tried to hide her reddened cheeks from me.

Cupping her face in my hands, I gently forced her head up so I could look into her fantastically sexy dark eyes.

"What were you wondering, my darling," I felt a thrill of electricity shoot through me as I realized she was indeed 'my darling' and I had every right to call her that.

"You're so...good at it and I'm afraid I don't know enough about how to...please you..." she trailed off miserably, lowering her lids, refusing to look at me.

"Angelica, open your eyes," I ordered.

She shook her head, and I could see tears beginning to squeeze out from under her eyelids.

"Angelica," I softened my voice, "please look at me."

I felt a physical pain somewhere in my midriff as she opened her eyes and I saw the tears streaming down the sides of her face.

"There are no words descriptive enough to explain how mind-boggling last night was for me," I paused searching for the right thing to say, "all you have to do is...be...you."

I knew that was inadequate, but I was totally caught off-guard by her insecurities and was unprepared to deal with them effectively. I supposed it made sense that she would doubt herself. Hadn't I developed my own doubts as soon as I thought she'd been displeased with my performance?

"But you have so much more experience than I do, and I don't want you to..."

"To what...?"

"Get bored," she whispered.

I laughed, I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it.

"It's not funny," the tears were back and she shoved me away.

"Angelica, stop," I moved on top of her and pinned her arms down as she furiously tried to dislodge me. "I'm sorry I laughed, but the thought that I could ever find you boring is ridiculous. You are the most stimulating woman I have ever met or will ever meet."

"Now you're making fun of me," she accused.

"I assure you, I'm not," I said soberly.

"You've slept with all those gorgeous women and I've..."

"How do you know who I've slept with?"

"Allison said..."

"She regaled you with my love life?"

"I asked her...she didn't want to..."

"Fine...I admit I've had sex with many, many, many gorgeous women and they all knew some pretty clever tricks to keep a man interested," I said brutally. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"I can't compete with that," she whispered brokenly.

"But that's just it, you don't have to," relenting, I gently touched my lips to hers. "They needed a little something up their sleeves because they were all the same, not exactly the same, but close enough. Bleached blondes, dyed red-heads, face lifts, implants, nose jobs...not one of the women I...dated...had their original equipment and I was shallow enough to want to be seen with only the most attractive women so those were my only choices."

"Allison..." she ventured tentatively.

"Ah yes, Allison," I grimaced as I moved over to my side of the bed, flipping onto my back and staring up at the ceiling again. "She was the most beautiful of them all, but what I didn't realize at the time, because I was a blooming idiot, was that although on the outside a lot of my dates were just as good looking as Allison, Allison's beauty wasn't only skin-deep, therefore she outshone all the rest of them. That's why I thought I was in love with her, she was real and good and...pure."

"Are you...do you still feel that way...about Allison?"

"No," I smiled, "Allison is my best friend, that's all. Actually, she's my sister-in-law now...interesting."

"Will you teach me some things to...you know..."

"I will not," I replied indignantly rolling over on my side to glare at her.

"But I want to know, I've only slept with Stephen and he...well he was so much older and I..."

"You still don't get it," I said in amazement. "Angelica, did you enjoy our lovemaking?"

"Of course I did, I never knew..." she broke off, catching her lower lip between her teeth.

"Never knew what?"

"Nothing," she denied quickly.

"Angelica, I'm trying to be as honest with you as I can, even when it pains me to do so, but I need you to do the same for me."

"I've never...I didn't realize that it could be so...wonderful," she admitted blushing.

"You've never had an orgasm before?"

"No," she whispered in mortification.

"But you have two children, you obviously had sex," I pointed out in amazement.

"Stephen, my husband, was older than me and he was very gentle, but I never felt anything with him like I do with you...it wasn't..."

"Enjoyable," I supplied.

"It was my duty and his right, but I had no idea it could be so..."

"Mind-boggling," I repeated the word I had used earlier.

"Mind-boggling," she conceded, still flushed.

"And that's why I won't teach you any stupid tricks. What we have is natural, no tricks, no artifice, nothing fake. I've never had that before so we are both experiencing something new, and I won't spoil it by giving into your silly insecurities about your lack of knowledge. I like you this way," propping myself up on one arm I trailed my fingers down her cheek and leaning towards her kissed her tenderly on her luscious, full lips. "The fact that I excite you as much as you excite me arouses me even more. I've been waiting for you my whole life, I simply didn't realize it."

"So you're not disappointed with me."

Reaching over, I pulled Angelica on top of me positioning her hips directly above mine.

"Does this feel like I'm disappointed with you?"

Chapter 36

Trading Spaces

"What is it this time, Stover?"

"Aw...you cut me to the quick," I responded irreverently. "And here I thought we had bonded what with me being your best man and all."

"Yeah, well, I would have thought a smart lawyer like you would have figured that one out all by yourself," Wright replied satirically.

"I'm crushed," I sighed dramatically.

"I'm sure you'll recover," he returned unsympathetically. "What do you want?"

"Don't believe in foreplay do ya?"

"Stover!"

"Okay, okay...I want to make a deal with you."

"What kind of deal?"

"I want to trade houses."

There was silence on the line for a moment as Wright pondered my offer. I waited patiently for his analytical brain to run through all of the possible repercussions.

"Why?" he asked finally.

"You and Allison are already planning to buy my house and your house is the only one around here that...fits our needs," I hedged.

I hadn't been able to make love to Angelica in a week, not since we'd returned from Vegas, and the strain was wearing on me. She wasn't what I would call a 'silent partner' in bed, which of course was one of the numerous things I loved about her, and because of that she refused to even attempt intercourse with two teenagers and her mother in the house. To say I was desperate was an understatement.

I heard Wright's low chuckle, I didn't even know he knew how, and felt uncharacteristically discomfited.

"Feeling the lack of privacy?" he suggested amusedly.

"Okay, look, I'm sorry I antagonized you earlier and you feel the overwhelming urge to attempt to embarrass me..."

"Oh, I didn't attempt anything, I succeeded," he corrected. "And Allison said it couldn't be done," he mused.

"Bully for you...I'm sure that makes you the better person, but I warn you, that isn't saying much," I said ironically. "I figured you, of all people, would understand if not sympathize being newly married yourself."

"You're an old married couple having a baby, surely you're passed all of that."

He was certainly getting his revenge for my irrepressible taunting earlier.

"I haven't been married as long as you have, does that mean you're done humping Allison?" I asked cheekily, recovering quickly from my temporary lapse of composure.

"Allison and I didn't anticipate our wedding vows," he reminded me ominously, "And I strongly suggest you watch your mouth."

"Fine," I muttered. "Withdrawn. A bit touchy are we?"

"Is nothing sacred with you? You claim to care about Allison and yet you..."

"Okay, you're right, I'm sorry, Allison doesn't deserve that. You just seem to bring out the worst in me."

"Is there a better?" he asked skeptically.

"Honestly, I don't know," I admitted reluctantly. "Look, I think we both realize that whether a man's married five months, five years, or five decades, it isn't long enough if it's the right woman."

"And you're saying you have, after plowing your way through scores of wrong women, finally found the right one?"

"As hard as it is to believe, yes I have," I replied firmly.

Again, there was no sound from the other end of the line and I waited, almost able to hear the wheels turning in his head.

"How long are you planning on living there?"

"At least until Elizabeth graduates from high school," I answered promptly.

"That makes sense," he mumbled to himself. "You can move in, your wife has a key, and we'll table the rest of the discussion until later. My study is off-limits as is the basement..."

"Yeah so I've heard. How many dead bodies you got buried down there anyway?" I couldn't help asking.

"Would that be including yours?"

"Sorry, I just can't seem to control myself where you're concerned."

"Try," he suggested drily.

~ * * ~

"Remind me to thank Wright later," I murmured lazily in Angelica's ear.

"I never thought I'd be actually living in the same house that I cleaned for years," she said thoughtfully as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Or making out?" I suggested wickedly as my lips began caressing her shoulder.

"Or making out," she repeated smiling indulgently at me. "Aren't you tired?"

"I haven't touched you in a week, I'm just getting warmed up," I assured her as I began avidly exploring her body.

"You make me feel so..." she paused as she searched for the correct word.

"Beautiful...? Desirable...? Sexy...? You're all of those things and more."

"Wanted," she replied wistfully.

"That too," I agreed in amusement.

"I don't mean just physically, but mentally and emotionally, you seem to always want to know what I'm thinking or feeling and you listen to me."

"You're a smart woman; I'd be a fool not to."

"Stephen was sweet, but we never talked about things. Like sex, he would...do it...but if I had ever brought it up to discuss, he would have been mortified."

"So what did you talk about?"

I paused in my investigation of her considerable charms, shifting my weight off her, content to have our bodies side by side touching, suddenly curious about her relationship with her late husband.

"Nothing really," she shrugged. "He was a quiet man, and a scholar, a professor of literature at a university before he moved here, but a student had unjustly accused him of making improper advances and although he was cleared, he lost interest in teaching."

"You're sure he was innocent?" I asked skeptically.

"Stephen could never have done what that girl accused him of," Angelica stated firmly. "She was disgruntled because she was failing his class. He'd been married for thirty years until his wife died of cancer and he was so devastated by that he couldn't even defend himself against the girl's accusations."

"How was he cleared?" she had my full attention.

"The stupid girl got drunk at a party and started bragging about it. There were so many witnesses that he was exonerated the next day."

"How did he end up here?"

"One of his former students grew up in the area and had written a paper about this place. Stephen said it was one of the most descriptively touching and well-written papers ever handed in to him, and as he was cleaning out his files, after he resigned, he found the paper and decided to see the town for himself. Once he got here, he decided to stay."

"And you agreed to marry him," I said impassively.

"He was sweet and kind and gentle and..."

"He fell in love with you of course," I finished for her, "And you felt guilty about it."

"Yes," she closed her eyes as if to block out the memory.

"Why did you marry him?"

"I was already twenty-eight and he was so intelligent, unlike anyone else I'd ever met, and besides I didn't know..." she halted abruptly.

"You didn't know what?" I prompted gently.

"I didn't know it could be like this," she whispered. "I didn't know...you."

Wrapping my arms around her, I asked as detachedly as I could, "Were you looking for a father figure?"

"No...maybe...I don't know," she blurted out burying her face in my chest. "He was so different from my picture of..."

"Lowell...?

"Yes," she mumbled into my chest,

"Unlike me..." I muttered.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm jealous of all those years he spent with you," I admitted as I held her tightly.

"He died of a heart attack soon after Elizabeth was born," she wiped her eyes and smiled at me. "We were only married a few years."

"Is he the one who made the back porch into a bedroom?"

"Actually, he redid the whole cabin; it was only two rooms and an outhouse when he bought it."

"He must have been very...handy."

Angelica laughed, "Not at first. He bought a book, that's what literature professors do you know, and he taught himself. His first efforts were quite disastrous."

"I'm glad," I chuckled. "I was starting to feel inadequate."

"After he died I fixed a lot of his mistakes."

"You did?" I asked in surprise. "Now I really do feel inadequate."

"Stephen was a very learned man, but sometimes he didn't have much common sense."

"You were impressed by his educational background, though, weren't you?" I guessed perceptively.

"I'd always wanted to go to college," she admitted sadly, "but Mama's eyes started going bad about the time I finished high school so I stayed and took her place at the diner. I'd been working there part time for a couple of years, and Harley was happy to hire me."

"I'll bet he was," I grumbled remembering the image I'd had of them together...I shuddered.

Angelica looked at me questioningly but I just smiled and nodded, "Go on," I urged.

"Mama and I lived in a shack at the edge of town, it's not even there anymore, but it was all we could afford, and I'd worked at the diner for almost ten years before Stephen showed up. He was from a different world, one I craved to join, but I couldn't leave Mama and I would have never been able to afford to support her and go to college at the same time. Stephen loaned me books and he was just so...smart," she shrugged helplessly.

"So you married him and..."

"And he seemed threatened by my desire to learn. His first wife stayed home and took care of him, and that's what he wanted me to do. Before I agreed to marry him, he promised that Mama would have a home with us as long as she was living, and he used that as an excuse to force me to quit working saying that I should be there in case she needed me. Then we had Samuel, and I was happy that I didn't have to work. I loved being a mother," she smiled reminiscently. "Once I had Elizabeth, I was content with my lot in life. Then Stephen died, and his small income died with him. I was forced to go back to work and Mama had to take care of my babies. I worried all the time, but God took care of them."

"When did Wright, or I guess I should say Donne, enter the picture?"

"About eight years ago, he advertised for a part time housekeeper and a lot of women applied, he'd already had a couple of books published by that time and everyone was curious about him, but he hired me. I think it was my penchant for secrecy that decided him. I refused to answer some of his questions, like who my father was, and I think he must have figured that if I were that fanatical about my privacy, I would be better able to understand his," she smile in remembrance. "I walked out of the interview sure I wouldn't get the job, but I did."

"I'm just glad Wright didn't fall in love with you himself."

"God had a plan and he was watching out for all of us."

"If you say so."

"I say so."

Chapter 37

The Tigress and Her Cub

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay," Angelica replied despondently. "I miss you."

"I could call and book you on the first available flight," I offered hopefully.

"You know I can't leave Mama and the kids," I could hear the tears in her voice. "When are you coming home?"

"I still have a few things to iron out at work, and then there's the closing on the house at the end of the week," I sighed. "Maybe I can be there Saturday."

"Okay," she whispered, "I have to go."

I was sitting at my desk staring blindly at the phone in my hand when Phillip walked in.

"We're waiting for you, Stover," he said impatiently. "Stover!" he prompted in irritation at my lack of response.

"Hmm..." I looked up distractedly.

"Let's go!"

"Oh yeah, about that," I reached into a drawer, pulled out a blank sheet of paper, and after scribbling some numbers on it handed it to my, unbeknownst to him, brother-in-law. "Here is what I'll accept as a buy-out," I closed my briefcase decisively and stood facing him, "not a penny less. I will not guarantee to leave my clientele with the firm, but that is reflected in the numbers. I will promise not to actively recruit any of my former clients, but you'll just have to take my word on that. If I pass the bar, I will be practicing in a different state altogether for a while, so that will be a non-issue anyway. That is my offer...take it or leave it. Honestly, I simply don't care one way or the other. I have to go."

As I reached the door, I turned and added, "By the way, you might want to close your mouth, you're collecting flies."

For days, the partners had been at an impasse as to what to do with me. Robert, who was retired but still a partner in the firm, had sided with me of course, but he was the only one. My cousin, Rodney, who had taken over for Uncle William after his death the previous month, had never liked me and had of course sided with Phillip. The newest partner Phillip had brought on board a few months earlier, I suspected it was to overrule anything Robert and I wanted to do, was Phillip's lapdog and did what he was told.

I hadn't wanted to leave any of my clients at the mercy of Phillip and attempted to avoid signing an agreement that would be detrimental to them, but Phillip had flatly refused; in his greediness he wasn't about to let a potential moneymaker walk out the door.

I'd played along, compromising on some of the side issues in order to show my good faith, but after the phone call to Angelica, I was done playing tiddlywinks with him. She needed me.

On the way to my car I made two phone calls, one to the real estate lawyer I had recommended to Allison and the other to the airport. I was going home.

~ * * ~

Because I had a lot of details to work out before I could leave town—convincing the real estate lawyer to allow me to sign my part of the paperwork on the house closing early was the most important one if I had any hope at all of avoiding another trip back to Austin in the near future—it was early the next morning by the time I got everything done. I hopped a plane for a connecting flight through DFW Airport to Denver, the first available, so it was after two in the afternoon before I quietly opened the door to the house.

Samuel and Elizabeth would be at school, Sophia taking a nap, and I suspected that Angelica might have even gone down for a short snooze as tired as she'd been the past few months. Deciding to head straight for the bedroom, I made as little noise as possible as I entered. I needn't have bothered, Angelica was there on the bed, but she wasn't sleeping. She was curled up on her side in a tight ball of misery crying into my pillow.

Not wishing to startle her, I set my suitcase and overcoat gently down on the floor and slipped my shoes off. I carefully slid towards her on the bed, but her body was so racked with sobs that she wouldn't have noticed if a bulldozer had come through the wall. As my arms circled around to enfold her, she gasped with surprise and turned so quickly in the bed I had to duck in order to miss being slugged in the face with her elbow.

"Richard..." she sobbed throwing her self at my chest and burying her face in my shirt.

Instead of abating as I expected, the weeping worsened until she was totally incoherent and out of control.

"Sweetheart, it's okay, I'm home to stay, I'm not going anywhere," I tried to reassure her, but to no avail.

After a while, I realized that something was wrong. Yes, she had missed me, but her crying was something else, something much worse. I felt my heart plummet to my feet. Sitting up, I took her with me, trying in vain to get her to look at me.

"Angelica, what is it?" I asked apprehensively. "Is it Sophia?"

She shook her head, sobbing harder.

"Samuel...Elizabeth?"

Again, she shook her head.

"What's wrong?"

"The...the...baby," she stuttered between hiccups.

"You lost the baby? Oh Sweetie, why didn't you tell me? I would have come straight home."

"No..." she was violently shaking her head.

"You didn't lose the baby?" I asked in bewilderment.

"N...n...no," she sobbed.

"Then the baby's okay," I said in relief.

It amazed me that I'd been so worried, until I realized I had been worried about Angelica, not the baby. That made more sense.

"No..." she cried wrenchingly.

"I don't understand, Angelica, you have to calm down and explain it to me," I said reasonably.

"I...can't..." she hiccupped.

"Come here," I pulled her into my arms and held her until she seemed more composed and coherent.

"Better?" I asked tenderly as I brushed the hair back from her face.

"The doctor called last week," she began abruptly.

"What...?"

"Just let me talk. I have to get through this quickly or I may not be able to," she interrupted me. "One of the blood tests I took doesn't look good."

She paused to take a deep breath, but I waited patiently for her to go on.

"The baby may have Downs Syndrome," she managed to finish, but promptly burst into tears immediately afterwards.

I automatically tightened my hold on her, and she once more hid her face in my shirt.

Downs Syndrome...I'd seen a couple of people with Downs Syndrome and I had to admit that it had made me extremely uncomfortable. I could feel the shock on my face, and was thankful that Angelica couldn't see me.

The one child I would ever have, and it was cursed. That seemed about par for the course, the course of my life anyway. I'd thought Laticia was my punishment, and in a way she was, even though it turned out we weren't blood related, but the powers-that-be had apparently decided that I'd gotten off too easily.

I'd seduced Angelica and I was about to reap what I had sown.

A thought occurred to me "Did you say 'may' have Downs Syndrome?" Is there a chance it doesn't?"

"I have an appointment tomorrow to see a specialist in Denver," she sat up and wiped her eyes. "I so wanted you to be there, but..."

"You should have told me," I admonished her. "If you hadn't sounded so depressed on the phone, I would still be in Austin instead of here with you where I belong."

"I didn't want to bother you."

"I don't ever mind you bothering me."

"Thank you for coming home," she tried to smile through her sorrow but it was a pitiful attempt.

"What time tomorrow?"

"We're supposed to be there by ten."

"I'm assuming no one else knows," I raised an eyebrow at her.

"No, I couldn't talk about it and Sophia..."

"Would have called me, like you should have," I smiled to lighten my words.

"I'm sorry."

"Well at least I'm here now," I said briskly taking a shot at normalcy as I kissed her forehead and got up off the bed. "I'm going to take a shower and then find some lunch...I'm starved."

~ * * ~

Angelica shook with nervousness and dread as we sat in the curiously calming waiting room.

Unfortunately, the tranquil environment had no effect on Angelica. Reaching over I covered both of her hands with one of mine and gave them a gentle squeeze. All she could do was turn to me wide-eyed, saying nothing.

"Stover," the nurse announced from the doorway.

I helped Angelica out of her chair and led her by the hand towards the nurse, who smiled at us encouragingly asking, "How are we today?"

"Fair to partly cloudy," I answered lightly.

"If you'll come this way, you'll be seeing the counselor first."

"Counselor...?" Angelica frowned.

"I'll let her explain," the nurse said kindly as she ushered us into an office.

The woman behind the desk rose to shake our hands as the door closed firmly behind us.

"Hi, I'm Mary Cranston, the genetic counselor," she smiled brightly.

"Why are we seeing a counselor?" Angelica asked nervously refusing to sit at first, even though the counselor had indicated that we should. "I thought we were here to see a doctor."

"Please...sit, and I will explain," she replied kindly.

Angela finally complied, perching on the edge of the chair unable to relax.

"We feel that it's best for parents to understand what's happening and be informed enough to make the right decisions," the woman explained tactfully.

"The right decisions...? Are you talking about abortion?"

I could hear the borderline hysteria in Angelica's voice.

"That's considered one of the choices..." Ms. Cranston acknowledged.

Angelica jumped out of her chair, anger emanating from every pore.

"Abortion is not one of my choices! I will not kill my baby!"

I stood and carefully placed my hand on Angelica's shoulder.

"Angelica," I said softly, "I believe Ms. Cranston is here to give us information. No one is going to try to convince you to have an abortion, but if both sides aren't presented there may be a liability issue involved. Ms. Cranston has a job to do, and now she knows how you feel about abortion so," I sent a warning glance towards Ms. Cranston, "I'm sure she will concentrate more on providing us with information."

"That's right Mrs. Stover," Ms. Cranston said briskly, all business. "I'll need some family history from you and we'll talk a bit about genetics and since you already know your...about the other things...we will consider that part done."

I wasn't sure how much of the conversation Angelica took in after that, but I suspected not much. In her state of mind, it would have all sounded the same, just a continual blah blah blah. The only thing she cared about was seeing the doctor and finding out if the baby was okay.

I was able to give more of Angelica's family history than she was, as I'd known Lowell and she hadn't, so the only participation I had to coax out of her was about Sophia's side of the family.

Personally, the information Ms. Cranston was spouting didn't mean much to me either. I'd researched Downs Syndrome online the previous evening after Angelica was asleep, and knew that basically being over forty had put her in the high risk category. It wasn't surprising that the test had come out positive. On the other hand, there was a chance that the test was a false positive. I held onto that hope.

Finally, the counselor, deciding that neither of us was paying much attention to her, ended the session and led us to another room.

"This is Gary, and he'll be doing your sonogram," she introduced us briefly before quickly exiting, no doubt anxious to be done with us.

"Hello Gary," I said amicably. "Will this sonogram tell us if the baby has Downs Syndrome?"

"No, but it will show us if the baby has any of the usual problems generally associated with Downs," he said as he indicated that Angelica should climb up on the bed.

I helped her up asking, "What types of problems?"

"Oh, like club feet, clenched fists, heart problems, stomach problems, things like that, and we'll also take some measurements."

"But it won't be conclusive."

"No, a sonogram won't be conclusive," he conceded. "But if we don't see any of the signs, the odds go up in your favor. Mrs. Stover will you lift your blouse please?"

Angelica mechanically obeyed, and Gary squirted some gel on her stomach and began punching buttons and moving the attachment around, taking pictures. I had no idea what I was looking at, but Angelica suddenly perked up.

"There's the head," she pointed in excitement.

"Where, I don't see anything," I squinted at the screen as Gary outlined the skull with his finger.

"Huh, whaddya know...there it is," I acknowledged in amazement. "How does it look so far?" I asked curiously, noting no change in Gary's facial features as he continued taking pictures.

"So far, everything looks fine," he said shrugging. "But you understand that even if we don't see any obvious signs..."

"The baby could still have Downs." I nodded. "The odds do improve though?"

"Yep," he agreed.

"Is...can you tell...?" Angelica began hesitantly.

Gary grinned, "I'd say that right there is a baby penis," he pointed to a tiny spot on the screen.

"Not much of one," I commented squinting.

"Richard," Angelica said reproachfully, "he's a baby."

I shrugged and there was silence in the room as the tech finished up.

"Here's a tissue to wipe up the gel, Mrs. Stover, and you can pull your blouse back down. I'm done. If you'll stay here, I'll be back in a minute," he requested as he left the room.

"Where would we go?" I muttered.

Angelica ignored me.

The tech returned with an older man who identified himself as Dr. Pender.

"From what Gary tells me, there are no obvious signs of problems, so I'm sure he explained the odds are better than what they were, but I want to make sure you know that the only way to be absolutely certain whether or not the baby has Downs is to do an amniocentesis."

"What's that?" Angelica asked suspiciously.

"It's a procedure where I stick a needle—like I'm giving you a shot—into the area where the baby is, only instead of injecting something I pull out fluid to be tested. If you allow us to do an amnio, we will know for sure if the baby has Downs."

"That sounds dangerous," I said frowning.

"The procedure does run the risk of causing a miscarriage," the doctor admitted, "So it's not something to take lightly."

"No!"

"Angelica, maybe we should talk about it," I suggested mildly.

"No!" she repeated vehemently getting down from the bed. "Thank you for your time, but we are done now."

I shook hands with Gary and the doctor thanking them for their help, and followed Angelica from the room. As we checked out, I could sense that she was under some huge emotional strain, but I couldn't decipher it, so I let it slide. I knew if I were at fault, I would find out soon enough.

And I did.

"You don't want this baby," she accused before I could even fasten my seatbelt. "You want me to have an abortion."

"Do I?" I responded nonchalantly. "That's news to me."

"That amnio thing...you think I should let them poke me with the needle and if the baby dies then that's too bad, but at least you're off the hook."

"I never said that," I replied calmly.

"You didn't have to, I can tell."

"Can you? Mind reading again?"

"Allison said you..."

"Allison should learn to keep her big mouth shut," I grimaced in irritation.

"I just thought...I hoped..." she faltered, and I could tell her anger had dissipated and she was more upset than anything else.

"What did you hope?" I asked harshly. "That the leopard would miraculously change his spots, that I would suddenly find the missing gene that would make me all paternal? Well, I'm sorry but it doesn't work that way. I don't want you to have an abortion, but I don't want you to not have an abortion, either. All I know is that for the last week you have been an emotional wreck, and if you have this baby and it does have Downs Syndrome, I'm not sure you can handle it."

"You don't get it," she whispered in amazement. "I'm not upset just for me, I'm sad for my baby. Yes, I'm mourning the fact that he may not be the normal, healthy, and happy baby that I had hoped for, but no mother wants to see her baby hurting or in pain and aside from all of the medical problems a Downs baby could have, I know the world can be cruel to children who are...different."

"Then why put it through all of that? Why not let go now and avoid all of the bad stuff?"

"Because he is real...alive...my baby, just as Samuel and Elizabeth are my babies. I would no sooner take a gun and shoot them than abort this baby," she wrapped her arms protectively around her midriff.

"Right, I forgot, you'd rather shoot me," my lips twisted cruelly.

"I would never have shot you," she whispered in a horrified voice. "I was just angry and scared."

"That's a relief," I said sarcastically, "because it didn't sound like you were bluffing to me."

"Richard, I want this baby, our baby, and I want you to feel something," she begged me with her eyes.

"Don't ask for much do you?" I noted cynically, hating myself for the pain I was causing Angelica, but unable to stop myself.

"Please don't be like this," she pleaded. "Our baby is a part of you, and I'm not Nat, I want you to be involved."

"Man...Allison really did give you an earful. I had no idea I was such a fascinating topic of discussion."

"I'm sorry, I..."

"If you decide to go ahead with the pregnancy, that's your decision, and I promise to do my part, but don't expect me to become emotionally attached to it," I shuddered. "Normal babies have never appealed to me so it would be a study in futility for you to imagine for one moment that I could form some sort of bond with a mutant."

"Richard..."

Ignoring the anguish in her voice, I started the SUV—I'd purchased it for Angelica's use before I'd left for Austin the previous month—and backed out of the parking space. Making my way to the exit of the parking garage in a calm and controlled manner—which wasn't easy as I was furious, but unsure why—I paid the parking attendant and turned us towards home.

I had plenty of time to analyze my wrath on the journey home because neither of us spoke. Angelica cried quietly, head turned away from me, staring blindly out the window while I sifted through everything that had happened since I'd returned home the previous day.

Trying to pinpoint the moment my rational thought processes had gone awry, I realized that I wasn't just angry, I was...resentful. In the counselor's office the realization hit me of just how attached Angelica had become to the thing growing inside of her and that seemed to spark my antipathy.

When she refused to even consider the amnio, it began to dawn on me just how fiercely protective she felt over the creature she was nurturing, and to crown it all off, her contention that she'd never kill her babies after she'd shot at me not once, but twice, forced me to accept the fact that I was way down her list of priorities, of people she claimed to love. I wanted to be on the top of the list, not the bottom.

Ironically, because of my behavior, I was in all likelihood no longer even on it.

As soon as we arrived home, Angelica ran to our room and locked the door. Wright, in his security conscious paranoia—although I guess it couldn't be considered paranoia if there really was danger involved—had built the heaviest door he could, and put multiple locks on it so there was no way I was getting in the room any time soon.

She still hadn't come out when Samuel and Elizabeth returned from school, so we all ate without her and, while the kids did their homework in their rooms, Sophia insisted I read to her claiming that Angelica always skipped all the good parts, too embarrassed to verbalize the love scenes that Sophia craved.

After everyone was in bed, I walked to the door and knocked softly.

"Are you going to let me in, or do I have to sleep on the couch?" I asked more bitterly than I intended.

"Go away," I barely heard the muffled reply.

"Angelica," I said impatiently, "You're acting like a child. Open this door."

"No!"

There was nothing muffled about that response.

"If you don't open this door, I'm leaving," I threatened, not sure if I really meant it.

I waited expectantly, certain that she wouldn't want me to leave, but after five minutes of nothingness, I decided my vigil was in vain.

"Fine," I conceded between gritted teeth, "you've got my number if you need something. I may even answer."

I had nothing with me, but I didn't care, I'd had enough of her temper tantrums and demands. She was no better than Nat with her strange attachment to that creature growing inside of her, and I wasn't putting myself through that again.

If she wanted me back, she could damn well come begging on hands and knees.

Jumping in my rental, I sped down the driveway, narrowly missing the iron gates as they opened too slowly for my taste, and headed for Denver. Nothing was clear in my mind, but I knew I couldn't stay there. I had plenty of time to figure out my bleak future on the drive.

I had nothing but time.

Chapter 38

Waiting in Vain

For a week, I stayed at a hotel in Denver expecting a phone call from Angelica, begging me to return, but except for a call from Robert cheerfully informing me that Phillip had decided to accept my offer, desperate to rid himself of the thorn in his side that had been plaguing him for years, my phone remained strangely silent.

Apologizing to Robert for deserting him, he assured me that he had no intention of remaining once my name was officially off the door. He'd been displeased for quite a while with the direction the firm had taken, and he would be more than happy to have his name removed, too.

He also cheerfully informed me that Melissa, his oldest, was divorcing Phillip. Apparently, Nat had taunted her with the affair in the middle of an argument and Melissa—who had suspected for a long time but had no proof—decided it wasn't too late to try to find some happiness, even if it was just the fact that she would no longer have to put up with a man she despised.

I doubted whether Phillip and Nat would marry, I had a feeling that for them, that much togetherness would not be a good thing, but I couldn't see Nat giving him up, even if he was angry with her for opening her big mouth and forcing a divorce on him. I was certain she would find a way to keep a firm hold on him.

Also, Laticia had managed to get engaged to some rich old goat that Nat found for her. I felt sorry for the old goat. He wouldn't know what hit him.

Hating the limbo into which my life had fallen, I still couldn't bring myself to crawl back to Angelica, so I decided to pursue my Colorado license to practice law.

Moving to Boulder, I took a refresher course, completed the required six-hour professionalism course, and passed the two-day Colorado Bar Exam.

By the time I finished, Angelica only had a month and a half before the baby was due, and still I hadn't heard from her.

I was at a loss, having no idea where to go or what to do.

Allison called me once when I first arrived in Boulder, but I cut her off and asked to speak to Wright.

"You're starting to annoy," Wright informed me abruptly.

"Sorry, I'll make this quick," I assured him. "I don't want to talk to anyone right now, and I don't care to have anyone find me, although I know you could, so please ask Allison to back off."

"Is that all?" he asked shortly.

"Actually, there is one more thing," I said thoughtfully. "If Angelica has any...serious problems...call me—you...not Allison—her definition of serious isn't the same as mine, but I suspect yours is."

"Are you really going to make her go through this alone?" he asked in disbelief.

"It was her choice," I said as I ended the call first for once.

Strangely, I received no satisfaction from it.

~ * * ~

"I like that."

"Thanks Randy," I replied absently as I jotted down some numbers. "I like it, too."

"Can I have it?"

"If I gave it to you, I wouldn't be able to do my job now would I?"

"But I like it."

"Isn't it time for your race?" I asked in exasperation.

"If I had one, I could help," he grinned as he reached toward the stopwatch hanging around my neck.

"We'll talk to Mrs. Timmons about getting you one, okay, but right now I think you better go line up with the others...John is about to throw a fit. See?" I turned him around and pointed him in the direction of the starting line, gently urging him on his way.

"Hey Stover, what time did you get for that last race?" Benny yelled across the track. I moved over to him and held my clipboard up for him to copy down the time. "Thanks."

"Randy really likes you," Cheryl commented as we took our positions for the next race.

"Randy likes anyone with a stopwatch," I replied sardonically.

"You're very easy to like," she grinned, "but not so easy to get to know."

"I'm not that interesting," I said abstractedly as I pulled out my stopwatch and readied it.

"Runners on your mark...get set..." BANG!

I clicked the button, and then watched as the line of runners advanced toward us. Although I had lane 2, I couldn't help but watch as Randy struggled to keep up with the others, silently cheering him on. He tried so hard, he just wasn't fast. Dragging my eyes back to lane 2, I concentrated on getting an accurate time for my runner as they finished the race to a rousing round of applause from the stands.

Randy made his way over to me as I noted the time on my paper.

"How'd I do, Coach?" he asked.

He called anyone with a stopwatch Coach.

"You did great Randy," I nodded in his general direction. "I need to get Benny my numbers. Hang on a sec and I'll be right back."

"Okay, Coach," he replied happily as he trailed me across the track.

I chuckled quietly, not surprised.

"Hey folks, we're done," Benny informed us all in his booming voice. "Nice job."

"Nice job," Randy repeated as he walked around patting people on the back grinning from ear to ear. "Nice job."

"Be sure and hand in all your equipment over at the stand," Benny reminded us.

I headed in that direction as a voice behind me asked eagerly, "Can I have it now? You're done right? Can I have it now?"

"Well, Randy, I have to tell you, this isn't my stopwatch to give you," I said apologetically. "Maybe if you're a good boy this year, Santa will bring you one for Christmas."

"Santa's for babies," he said scornfully.

The word baby, coming so unexpectedly out of Randy's mouth had me reeling for a second. Two weeks...in just two weeks, I would be a father, most likely of a Downs Syndrome baby much like Randy. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Putting his hand on my back, he asked curiously, "Are you sick?"

"No, I'm fine Randy," I assured him attempting a smile. "Tell you what, I'll give you this stopwatch but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Okay?"

"Okay, it's mine now," he eagerly grabbed the object and turned to lope away as if afraid I would take it back, yelling "Look what I got! Look what I got!" at the top of his lungs.

I laughed aloud.

"That was nice," Cheryl commented. "You know you'll have to pay for that."

"Yeah, I know," I acknowledged as I moved towards the small enclosure where the others were turning in their stopwatches and clipboards.

"So are you doing anything tonight?" she asked hopefully.

"I'm married," I reminded her, upholding up my left hand.

"Not happily, obviously," she pointed out. "You've been here for a month with no sign of a wife."

"You go out with married men?"

"Not usually, but for you," she winked, "I'd make an exception."

I had to admit, in my earlier, unattached years, I would have jumped at the chance; Cheryl was stacked and, if the way her body was sending out signals was anything to go by, no prude either, but I couldn't stir even the remotest interest in her.

Making it to the front of the line, I turned away from her and offered my clipboard.

"Sorry, I lost the stopwatch," I said, pulling my wallet out of my back pocket.

"You lost the stopwatch?" the lady stared at me in disbelief, "Between here and the racetrack?"

"Must have fallen into a hole or something," I replied mildly. "I hope this makes up for any inconvenience I've caused," I continued apologetically as I handed her a couple of one hundred dollar bills. "Will that cover it, you think?"

"Um...yeah...yeah I'm sure that will cover it," she hastened to assure me. "If you'll just sign right here and make a note about losing it, and put the amount you paid, I'll initial it and we'll be done."

"Thanks," I smiled as I filled out my line and handed the paper back to her. "Have a good evening."

"You too," she replied dazedly.

Heading for my car, I sighed in resignation as Cheryl caught up to me once again.

"So how about tonight?" she asked breathlessly.

"Sorry, but I have plans," I rejected her as kindly as I could, "And I think you should stick to single men. If a married man will cheat on his wife, it's highly likely he will eventually cheat on his lover, too."

I left her there, mouth wide open, staring after me in disbelief.

Chapter 39

The Idiot Returns

It was after midnight by the time I made it home. I'd been gone for almost four months, but everything looked the same. Everything was the same, except for me.

I was ready, and I hoped Angelica could find it in her heart to forgive me.

I'd spent the past month in Austin, not as a lawyer, but as a volunteer at the Austin State School, and I'd learned a thing or two...or three or four...

My first week there had been nothing short of horrifying, especially the group of residents in wheelchairs with very little brain function.

Then I'd met Randy.

In my younger days, I would have made fun of Randy, tormenting him, a part of the cold, cruel world Angelica was afraid of, but with the thought of my own child, a son, possibly turning out like Randy, I looked at him with new eyes.

Instead of making fun of him, I observed him, and eventually began interacting with him. Actually, he left me no choice. Like Allison and Angelica, he'd never met a stranger, and he pulled me into his world whether I was ready or not.

I laughed a lot, but my amusement wasn't intended to be malicious, it was because he was so hilarious. His contentment with life was nothing short of astounding, and he spread joy everywhere he went.

How can he be so stinking happy? I asked myself time and time again, but had no answer.

He just...was.

I pondered on the unfairness of life a lot during the time I was there, but again came up with absolutely nothing. Life stunk for a lot of people, there was no getting around that fact, but there didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason behind it, purely the luck of the draw.

My whole life I'd been spoiled and pampered, having every advantage the world had to offer, and I'd squandered it...every opportunity I'd been given wasted.

And then, finally, I'd found the one person who could actually bring meaning into my life, and I'd thrown her out like yesterday's garbage.

I had no idea if Angelica would ever even speak to me again, but I knew I had to try. Randy had shown me that every life was worth living and although many, or maybe all, of the people I knew would probably disagree, I realized that happiness was not about what you had in life, but how you saw your life...your perspective.

Randy saw the good in life, the good in people, and yes, maybe it was because he didn't have the mental capacity to do otherwise, but what was so bad about that? He was happy and content, which was more than I could say for myself.

I suspected that the parents of a Downs Syndrome child suffered more than the child ever did. Maybe I was finally getting it, what Angelica had been trying to tell me, about her grief over the baby.

Quietly opening the door to the bedroom Angelica and I had shared, I moved swiftly to the bed to discover it was...empty. Glancing around, I desperately began searching for her things in order to reassure myself that she hadn't moved. Some of her possessions were still on the dresser, and opening the drawers, I was relieved to discover nothing had been removed.

Surely Wright would have called me if something had happened. I pulled out my cell phone and would have cursed fluently if I hadn't been standing in our bedroom surrounded by Angelica's things reminding me of her distaste for foul language.

I had forgotten to turn my phone back on after landing in Denver.

"Damn" slipped out as I noticed the voice mail waiting for me as soon as my phone was back on.

Fumbling nervously with the buttons, I finally managed to get the message to play back.

"Stover, I don't know where the hell...heck you are," I grinned in spite of myself at the feeling of camaraderie his 'slip' gave me. "Angelica is headed to the hospital in Denver, Samuel is driving her, and Allison and I are about to board a plane. Get your ass...butt in gear and meet us there. That is not a request."

The time stamp on the voice mail showed the call had come in less than an hour earlier. Angelica and Samuel wouldn't be at the hospital yet. I must have passed them on the road.

I tore out the door and, once again, almost crashed into the gates as they took what seemed like forever to open.

"Damn Wright and his paranoia," I yelled in frustration as I sat waiting to exit.

I thought I heard paint being scraped off the side of the rental I was driving, and knew I'd have to pay for it when I turned it back in, but I didn't care. After all, it was only money.

Speeding like the devil himself was after me, I caught up to Samuel just outside of Denver. I recognized the license plate—I'd playfully ordered a custom plate that read Angel1—but decided against trying to pull them over.

Angelica knew the way to the hospital, even if Samuel didn't, and he was a good enough driver that I trusted him to get her there safely. Although he was probably stressed to the max, he wasn't exceeding any speed limits. I chuckled as I pictured Angelica, a stickler for the rules, monitoring his every move, letting him have it if he so much as inched over the speed limit.

A type of calm had settled on me as soon as I realized I was right behind them, and the anxiety and impatience I'd been feeling since hearing the voice mail from Wright had dissipated. I was still somewhat nervous about what Angelica's reaction to me would be, but I knew she wouldn't deny me my rights as a father, and I was counting on that to get my foot back in the door.

One of the many things I had learned from my time with Randy was that I was capable of true affection. During the weeks I'd spent at the School, as well as helping with the Special Olympics, I had developed a fondness for Randy, an attachment of sorts, which was alien to my nature. If I could do that, surely I could summon up some sort of liking for my own child. At least I was determined to try.

I loved Angelica, of that I was completely certain, although it had taken me long enough to admit it. As much as I regretted my initial reaction of resentment towards the baby she was carrying, I realized that reaction was perfectly in line with my selfish nature and was something I would have to deal with if I ever hoped to win Angelica over again.

Just like Allison, Angelica's family was the most important thing in the world to her, and I wanted to be a part of it, but I knew there was no chance if I couldn't get myself under control.

Samuel pulled up into the emergency room parking lot, but I found a parking place on the road and whipped in quickly. Hopping out, I ran towards the SUV, reaching it just as Angelica's feet hit the ground. She was wearing a nightgown and robe I'd never seen before and her hair was flying everywhere, obviously already in bed when the contractions started.

As she turned to shut the door, I heard her moan and fall against the vehicle, her hands instinctively holding her enlarged abdomen.

I carefully put my arms around her, keeping her from totally collapsing on the ground.

"Go find a wheelchair," I ordered as Samuel appeared from around the front of the vehicle.

He nodded, his eyes wide with surprise, and sprinted off towards the emergency room doors.

"Richard..." Angelica gasped, "You came."

"You're having my baby," I teased gently. "Where else would I be?"

I helped her into the wheelchair Samuel had commandeered, and wheeled her through the automatic glass double doors. Thankfully, she'd had the presence of mind to phone ahead, and there was a doctor waiting for us when we reached the desk.

"How far apart are the contractions?" he asked me briskly.

Confused, I looked down at Angelica who was in the middle of another round of pain.

"Less than two minutes," Samuel offered helpfully. "I'm glad you're back," he whispered in my ear.

"So am I," I murmured in return.

"We'll take her," a nurse gently nudged me out of the way, grasping the handles on the wheelchair.

"But..." I protested, having just found Angelica again, I didn't want to let her out of my sight.

"Come with me, Mr. Stover," a kind voice said from behind me. "You're wife will be fine, and we need to get you ready,"

"Ready?" I asked in confusion as I watched them wheel Angelica away.

"Did you bring a camera or camcorder?" the same voice asked as she led me in a different direction.

"Uh...no," I answered dazedly.

"Well I'm sure the birth of your baby is not something you'll forget," she reassured me as we entered the elevator.

As the doors closed and I ascended inexorably upward, I realized with dawning fear and dread that she was right...and I was terrified.

~ * * ~

"And we have a boy," the doctor pronounced jauntily.

I closed my eyes in relief, resting my head against Angelica's, feeling like I'd run a marathon.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and straightened up just in time to see a bundle being thrust into my hands.

"What...wait...I don't...I can't..." I stuttered as one of the nurses, seeing the panic written all over my face, took pity on me and helped me position my arms so I could take the full weight of the swathed figure.

"Come with me," the nurse beckoned. "You can show him to the people in the waiting area."

After casting one more desperate glance back at Angelica, who was grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary, I followed the nurse to a windowed area where the first person I saw—wearing the exact same expression as Angelica—was Allison. Behind her, Wright's eyes had a wickedly amused glint in them and my lips twisted wryly.

Samuel and Elizabeth had their noses pressed to the glass looking very much like children at a candy store window instead of the mature teenagers they were, and Elizabeth was obviously giving Sophia a play by play of the action.

Allison's eyes were wide as she stared at the baby and I didn't understand the questioning look in her eyes as they met mine. Seeing the puzzled expression on my face, she pointed down at the baby. Startled, I realized I hadn't even glanced at my unfortunate offspring, I'd been too busy figuring out how to hold the damn thing as well as watching where I was going so I wouldn't trip and drop him. Angelica would beat me to within an inch of my life.

Slowly directing my gaze downward, I was shocked. I jerked my head up and met Allison's eyes once more, lifting my shoulders in bewilderment.

"Dad, we need to take the baby now," seeing the look on my face she hastened to add, "but you can come with us. We just need to weigh, measure, and score him."

She took the bundle from my arms, and mechanically I followed her to the scale.

The words were flowing all around me, but I wasn't grasping anything.

His eyes...I kept thinking...his eyes...what's wrong with his eyes?

"Okay, we're done here and you'll be happy to know that he scored a 9 out of 10 on the APGAR," the nurse smiled brightly. "I'm sure Mom would like to hold him now."

I nodded absently, still not quite understanding, as I once again automatically moved to wherever I was told.

"There he is, Mom," the nurse gently laid the baby in Angelica's arms. "He's beautiful."

Angelica took the baby, her eyes shining, and then noticed me standing a few feet away.

"Oh Richard," she breathed. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"His eyes," I muttered inaudibly. "There's something wrong with his eyes."

"Richard, are you okay?" Angelica asked in alarm.

"His eyes," I repeated loudly, "there's something wrong with his eyes."

"There's nothing wrong with his eyes."

"But they don't look like Randy's."

"Who's Randy?" she asked in confusion. "And why would our baby have his eyes?"

"Randy has Downs Syndrome and he," I pointed towards the baby "doesn't have the same eyes."

"Richard," Angelica said laughing delightedly, "oh Richard, didn't the nurses tell you, our baby doesn't have Downs. He's fine. He's going to be just fine."

Everything felt like it was closing in on me, the walls, the ceiling, the nurses who were all watching me with odd expressions, the blood, the sweat, the screaming...all the screaming, Angelica squeezing the life out of my hand, having a baby thrust into my arms, and the funny feeling in my head.

And then there was nothing.

From a distance, I faintly heard Angelica's voice.

"Richard...Richard...is he okay?"

I couldn't respond. My head hurt and I could feel fingers probing.

"Ouch!" I pushed a hand away.

"Oh thank goodness," Angelica breathed a sigh of relief.

"What happened," I asked groggily.

"You passed out and hit your head on the floor pretty hard," a doctor informed me making no attempt to mask his grin. "Don't worry, it's happened before. When was the last time you ate?"

"Um...lunch or maybe breakfast, I think...I don't remember," I said tenderly rubbing my head as I sat up.

"Well no wonder," a nurse mused. "Don't worry, we'll grab you something out of the vending machine. You'll feel better in no time."

"Just don't tell Wright," I grimaced as I stood up. "Or else I'll never live it down."

Chapter 40

Logan Richard Stover

"Come on, Angelica," I pleaded, "don't curse the baby before he's even a day old."

"Too late," she returned smugly, "it's already done."

"Poor kid," I shook my head. "It's bad enough he's blood related to me, you had to go and ruin any chance he had of turning out well by sticking him with my name, too."

"I like the name," Allison piped up. "Everyone will call him Logan and besides no one pays attention to a middle name."

"Let's just hope he has a stouter constitution than his father," Wright commented mildly.

"Who told?" I glared at him.

"They swore me to secrecy," he shrugged.

"Time to burp," Angelica cooed to the subject of our discussion. "Richard...?"

"You know I'll probably end up dropping him on his head," I sighed as I carefully took the baby from her.

"Just do it the way I showed you and you'll be fine," Angelica smiled at me.

"Here, put something on my shoulder, I didn't bring another change of clothes," I said irritably.

"You are such a grouch, Richard," Elizabeth said as she entered the room. "We've missed you."

"Yeah right," I grumbled but was actually pleased at her words.

Elizabeth never said much, so I was glad to know she wasn't holding a grudge against me for leaving her mother alone for so long.

"Hey, look at you," Samuel crowed as he followed Elizabeth into the room, "big shot lawyer, burping a baby."

"Don't you have school or something?" I asked crossly.

"Actually, Mom said we could skip today," Samuel grinned.

"But you do have to go home and get some sleep," Angelica reminded him. "Are you going to be able to stay awake long enough to drive home?"

"Actually, Angelica, Jake and I are going with them, so Jake can do the driving," Allison mentioned casually. "We're planning to stay for a while in order to figure out the house situation."

"Want your bedroom back, do you?" I asked drily.

"We won't need the master bedroom," Allison glanced at Jake hesitantly before continuing. "There's another bedroom in the house, one that you don't know about, well I guess you do now that I've mentioned it, but..."

"More paranoid security measures no doubt," I said caustically as I handed the baby back to Angelica.

"Anyway," Allison glanced between Wright and me, resting her glare on my head, "we won't be putting anyone out, and we do have things to discuss so..."

"That sounds great," Angelica said, also scowling at me. "Richard and I will be home tomorrow, and we can all sit down like adults..."

All eyes swiveled to me.

"What?" I asked innocently. "Okay, fine, I will if he will," I jerked my thumb at Wright.

"...and discuss things in a mature fashion," she finished, puckering her brow in my direction.

"Hope springs eternal," Wright noted humorously. "And before the peanut gallery comes up with a witty retort, I believe it's time for the rest of us to depart."

"Where's Sophia?" I asked, suddenly noticing she was missing.

"She fell asleep on one of the couches in the waiting room and we can't wake her," Samuel laughed. "She drove everyone else out with her snoring."

"Don't worry," Allison reassured her sister, "we won't leave her. See you at the house."

"Look for a sharp stick on the way to the parking lot, Allison," I suggested helpfully.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously, pausing at the door while Wright politely waited for her to precede him from the room.

"Just in case your hubby gets sleepy, a good sharp jab in the ribs ought to do the trick."

"One of these days I'm going to turn Jake loose on you, Richard, so be warned," Allison replied gravely.

"Would you do that to your sister?" I asked guilelessly.

"I'm beginning to think I'd be doing her a favor," Allison returned sourly.

"Ouch!" Wright said in amusement as he followed her from the room.

"You really should stop antagonizing the man," Angelica shook her head at me.

"I know, I just can't seem to help it," I admitted ruefully. "There's something about him that makes me want to rattle his cage."

"Well, I think it's safe to say you have," she said sternly then burst out laughing. "Seriously though, he and Allison have been very good to me over the past few months."

"And I haven't," I acknowledged soberly.

"Can I ask where you've been?"

"I spent the first couple of months getting my license to practice law in Colorado."

"You did?" she asked eyes wide.

"And then I spent the last month in Austin..."

"But Allison didn't say anything..."

"She didn't know."

"What were you doing in Austin, or do I want to know?"

"I volunteered at the State School there and helped out with some Special Olympic events."

"Special Olympics...? You mean...?"

"I met a lot of people with Downs Syndrome."

"Randy...?"

"He was my favorite."

"You had a favorite?" she asked with tears in her eyes.

"I got kind of fond of him."

"Why would you do that? Spend time with 'mutants'?"

"Can we forget I said that? I was just being stupid and idiotic and ignorant..."

"Won't get any argument from me," she replied smiling affectionately.

"Gee thanks."

"So why did you volunteer at the State School?"

"I don't know, I guess I wanted to see if I could stand to be around somebody with Downs."

"And...?"

"And they're people, too."

"Is that why you came back? Because you realized that you could handle it?"

"I came back because I discovered something totally earth-shaking, earth-shattering, and life changing," I paused taking a deep breath. "I love you and no matter what bad things may happen to us, I want there to always be an 'us'. I can take anything as long as we're together."

"You love me?" she asked incredulously.

"What's not to love?" I asked flippantly.

"Richard..."

I sat down on the bed next to her, and carefully took her and the baby in my arms.

"I love you...and I plan to spend the rest of our lives proving it to you."

"I love you, too, and I'm glad you came back when you did because I will always know in my heart that you were willing to accept our baby with or without Downs...and that means everything to me."

"Don't think this changes anything," I warned. "I'm still me, with the same past and all the same flaws."

"But you have changed...a lot...since we first met," she said earnestly.

"Maybe," I replied skeptically.

"Would you agree to go to church with me...?" she queried tentatively.

"Angelica..."

"Just think about it, okay?"

"I'm afraid I'm too far gone for that to do me any good."

"No...you're not! Don't say that! It's never too late. I mean look at Jake, he thought he was past saving, but Allison convinced him that he wasn't and now he's going to church and..."

"Wright is going to church," I said in amazement.

"Please don't give up on your self," she begged. "I believe in second chances and I want you to have a chance to be in heaven. I love you too much to think of you suffering for all eternity."

"Maybe that's what I deserve."

"Richard..." I heard the fear in her voice and it finally got through to me, Angelica had no doubt that heaven and hell existed and was afraid for me. I couldn't put her through that kind of pain.

"I'll try, but I can't promise any more than that."

"Thank you," she whispered pressing her lips against mine. "I love you."

"That's my only redeeming quality."

Chapter 41

I Can be Serious...Sometimes

"Here, Wright, have a cigar," I clapped him heartily on the back. "I'm a father."

"Thanks," he replied twisting his lips up into what I assumed to be his version of a smile as he stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

"Hey, they're meant to be smoked, not saved," I objected good-naturedly.

"Sorry to disappoint," he responded drily, "but I don't smoke."

"I've cut down to one a month myself, but this is a special occasion," I reminded him. "Okay then, how about a Scotch? I have some in the house."

He shook his head "No thanks."

"Shot of whiskey? Bourbon...? Anything...?" I asked in exasperation as he continued with the head shaking.

"Sorry to disappoint again, but I don't drink."

"Do you cuss?" I asked sarcastically knowing full well he did, or at least used to.

"Not since Allison," he returned wryly. "Not much, anyway."

"I can relate to that," I muttered. "Do you have any vices?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that information," he replied gravely "unless of course you insist, but then I'm afraid, at the risk of sounding like a corny line from a movie, I'd have to kill you."

"Which you've been threatening to do ever since we met," I pointed out sardonically.

"Well, you've never actually done more than kiss Allison, and that was with her permission, so I've decided to be magnanimous and allow you to live," he bowed his head towards me as if bestowing a great honor. "You're also a rather handy lawyer to have around."

"Yeah, I could see you needing a criminal defense attorney," I replied only half-joking.

"They're not crimes if they're sanctioned," he reminded me ironically.

"You know I've been meaning to talk to you about that," I said soberly.

"I can't talk about my past with the agency, you know that."

"No, not about that except in a general way," I quickly disabused him. "My question to you is how Allison can be so sure that you're...salvageable? I mean you've obviously broken at least one major commandment multiple times...but she's still determined to 'save' you."

He was silent for a moment then asked, "Do you believe there's a God; one all-powerful Being who created the world, an omniscient and omnipotent force in control of everything?"

"Sounds creepy to me," I shrugged, "but...maybe. In my opinion there's no hard evidence to support either side."

"Allison lives on faith, she doesn't need hard evidence. She firmly believes that one day she'll see her dead family again, and who am I to say she won't."

"Doesn't that bother you; the thought that if there is a heaven, you and Wilson would have to share Allison?"

"From what I've read in the Bible, it doesn't work that way. Marriage is an earthly thing."

"Well that sucks," I grimaced. "I want to be married to Angelica."

"I don't pretend to understand it all," Wright admitted, "but the more I learn, the better it sounds. What I would suggest you do is find a Bible and read it from cover to cover, although you could probably skip all the 'begets'," at my questioning look he replied, "you'll see what I mean." He continued, "Then decide whether it's something you want to believe in. Oh, and another thing to think about...would you rather be like your first wife...living for the moment, unconcerned about where you'll spend eternity, hoping there isn't a hell or just ignoring the fact that there might be, or would you rather follow Angelica's lead and be one of the good people who firmly believe in the afterlife and want to go to heaven?"

"I've never thought of it that way."

"Allison is the most incredible person I've ever met, and I have to believe there's a reward for people like her, something special waiting for her after she leaves this world, otherwise what does it matter? The thought that this is it...that there's nothing else after we leave this world...is not logical and to be honest, rather depressing. I'd like to believe that our essence...our spirit... has somewhere to go after this and one other thing I know, I'd rather spend eternity with her and people like her than with the 'bad guys' I've been fighting my whole life. I hope to see my parents and little brother one day, and Allison has given me hope that it could happen."

"Hmm...eternity in heaven with Angelica or in hell with Nat...let me see...tough decision," I grinned.

"Yeah, I can see how that would be."

"You believe in second chances?"

"I do," he nodded gravely. "I've been given a brand new start, and I don't plan to blow it."

"How do you know that...I mean...how can you be one hundred percent sure?"

"Read, study, and then we'll talk."

"I'll do that," I replied thoughtfully. "Guess we're more alike than either of us care to admit."

"Yeah...spread that around and I will kill you."

"Might ruin your 'second chance'," I reminded him wickedly.

"Justifiable homicide," his eyes glinted in anticipation, "and it will appear entirely accidental."

"I believe you," I assured him hastily. "My lips are sealed."

"That'll be the day."

Epilogue

Saving the Sinner

"Wright, are you sure about this?" I asked skeptically eyeing the water of the swimming pool through the window.

"You read it," he shrugged, "you tell me."

"Yeah...well...knowing you and your connections, I wouldn't be surprised if you snuck me your own version of the Bible just to make me feel ridiculous," I replied sarcastically.

"That sounds like something you would do," he pointed out drily, "not me."

"Oh, right," a mirthless chuckle escaped my lips, "I get us mixed up sometimes."

"Hmm...easily confused, are you?"

"Lately...yeah," I conceded heavily. "Everything I've ever known or thought I knew and believed in is gone, and this is all strange to me. I guess I just still don't get it."

"Which part?"

"All of it, but especially how the death of some guy is supposed to save us all."

"Have time for a story?" he asked abruptly.

I glanced at the small group of people gathered around the pool, and murmured humorously, "I doubt they'll be able to start without us."

"Suppose you're right about that," he acknowledged wryly. "When I was young, Mom and Dad used to take us to church. I knew all of the Bible stories, but my parents were killed before I was old enough to believe any of it myself much less understand what it was all about. Reading them again, but as an adult this time, I was able to put Jesus' life and death in perspective, and it reminded me of a story about a Marine."

"Figures," I muttered.

"Do you want to hear this or not?" he asked in irritation.

"Surprisingly enough, I do," I admitted reluctantly.

"I'll give you the shortened version, the exact details are unimportant."

He moved away from the window and made himself comfortable on the couch. I followed and took the armchair next to him.

"There was a small squad of Marines stationed in a remote village in a South American country whose orders were to secure the area as well as protect the villagers, and the people there were very happy to see them at first, but eventually the enemy found out that the Marines were there. They began harassing the villagers, sneaking in at night and taking their children or killing the adults in their beds. The Marines called for back-up and dug in their heels, forgoing sleep so they could watch every possible entrance into the village and they managed to keep out the intruders, but the villagers were getting nervous. Not truly believing that there was help on the way no matter what type of proof the Marines offered, the villagers secretly made a deal with the enemy to give up the Marines to ensure their own safety. The Marines tried to convince them to wait, but the villagers wouldn't listen. In the end, even though the Marines had weapons and could have saved their own lives, it would have been at the expense of the villagers' lives and they weren't willing to do that, so they handed over their weapons and surrendered to the villagers who in turn gave them over to the enemies."

"That was stupid," I frowned. "That left the villagers totally unprotected."

"Perhaps," he shrugged "but the Marines were following orders and realized that their tactical surrender would buy the villagers some time, allowing the troops to get there, save them, and secure the area before the enemy could turn their attention back to the village."

"What happened to the Marines?"

"They were tortured and killed."

"Nice," I replied sardonically, "and the villagers?"

"The troops arrived in time to secure the area and protect them from the enemy's attack."

"Didn't the troops know what those idiotic villagers had done?"

"Yes, they did."

"And they saved them anyway?" I asked in disbelief. "I would have left them there to be slaughtered or enslaved or whatever..."

"Thankfully, not everyone is like you," Wright noted drily.

"I could see you being all self-sacrificing and noble like those Marines, but I freely admit it, I wouldn't be."

"What if it were a choice between your life and the lives of your wife and child?"

I stopped, pondering the significance of his question.

"I would sacrifice myself for them," I conceded slowly, "but not for a bunch of ingrates I didn't know and couldn't care less about. I'd be way too interested in saving my own skin for that."

"But that's just it," he pointed out "you're skin has already been saved. We're the villagers, Jesus the Marines, and God the troops."

"I see why the Bible appeals to you," I said in sudden understanding. "You see it all in military terms."

"Not always, just in that particular analogy," he contradicted. "It's something I can relate to, but a similar story could be told about anyone willing to give themselves up to save others. The point of the story isn't that I used Marines to represent Jesus, it's the fact that He was willing to give Himself up to save others...people He didn't know...people who had turned on Him...handing Him over to be tortured and killed."

"So this baptism thing..." I waved my hand vaguely in the direction of the pool and the group of people patiently waiting for us.

"It's symbolic," Wright explained earnestly. "When you stop to consider all that Jesus did...first He spent most of His life teaching people amidst ridicule and trickery and deceit, and then He, the only sinless man who ever lived, which is amazing all on its own, allowed Himself to be sacrificed by, as you so aptly put it, a bunch of ingrates. After that, He was raised from the dead, actually came back to life, dealing with skepticism and doubt, unselfishly more concerned with us than His own skin, and, it wasn't until much later that He was finally able to rejoin God in heaven. When you consider all of that, is it really too much to ask for us to acknowledge what He did for us with a simple act of obedience and acceptance?"

"Didn't you feel...?"

"Silly...? Ridiculous...? Embarrassed...?" Wright supplied with surprising insight.

"Yeah...all of those things," I grimaced.

"No, not at all," he replied honestly. "Have you ever thought about how many symbolic gestures we make in our lives that in and of themselves might be considered all of those things, and yet we don't feel that way while we are in the middle of them because it's about the heart and our commitment to what we're doing?"

"Like what?"

"Did you feel ridiculous when you graduated from high school...college...law school and participated in the ceremony with all of its symbolic gestures? Wasn't it silly to be handed an empty diploma holder or to move the tassel on your cap from one side to the other or to toss it up in the air with everyone else's? One of my proudest moments was the day I was able to pin the Eagle Globe and Anchor on my cover and could call myself a Marine. And what about the ring you put on Angelica's finger? Isn't that just a symbol, a way of expressing how you feel about her, your commitment to her? None of that felt lame or stupid or even the slightest bit ridiculous because they each represented something important and that's what baptism does...it is your acknowledgement that you recognize the importance of what the Bible commands us to do and that you're committing yourself to following its teachings, that you are willing to do as Jesus did, die to yourself and be raised from the dead, in other words dead to your old life and become a new creature in Christ. I like to picture it as leaving all of my sins in the water to be sucked down the drain while I was wiped clean, a new slate, able to start over."

"You think Mitch...I mean Drew..." I corrected myself, still unable to think of him as two different people "will need to empty his pool afterwards to protect the general populace?"

"I think heavy chlorination might take care of it," Wright replied humorously.

"I hope so."

"Are you really committed to this new life?" Wright's intense gaze seemed to penetrate my very being, searching deep into my soul. "If you're not, I'm sure everyone will understand if we postpone."

"There are still so many questions unanswered."

"There always will be," he conceded, "as long as we're here on this earth. The Bible doesn't hand us all the answers on a silver platter, but I believe there are more answers in there than we perhaps realize. Mostly, though, we just have to live by faith...which I admit is hard for me and I struggle with it daily. God doesn't expect perfection from us, for which I am grateful, but he does expect us to do everything we can to shoot for it. That's all any of us can do. We're all sinners."

I allowed his searching eyes to meet mine as I tested myself just as he was testing me, to see if I was ready. I felt a calmness overtake me as I realized that I was ready...I believed—how could anyone live with Angelica any amount of time and not believe—and I wanted to go to heaven...be counted as one of the good people.

I'd had enough of the seamy side of life to know that there was nothing there for me...no hope of true happiness...and certainly no hope of eternal life.

There had to be something afterwards...I needed to believe that...and I needed to believe that I could be a part of it even though I didn't deserve it...could never deserve it.

But I wanted it! I wanted it for me and for Angelica and my son, Logan and all of the people I cared about; even Wright. Whoa...I was changing.

Facing Wright squarely, eyes unwaveringly meeting his I nodded, "I'm ready. Let's do this."

The End

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