Messages In This Digest (25 Messages)

2a.: Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 3, 4

Posted by: "Sera Angel" celtic.kiss@gmail.com sweet_celtic_kisses

Sat Aug 29, 2009 8:19 pm (PDT)

''New York City homicide detective John *Amsterdam* is cursed with
immortality because he stopped the murder of a Native Indian girl in 1642 by
stepping in front of a sword. Due to this act of kindness, the Indian girl
rescued *Amsterdam* from the stab wound by making him immortal, but warns
that it is a curse that will only be lifted when John meets his true love.

Now, *Amsterdam* is a homicide detective in the Big Apple where he shares
his secret with Omar, a blues club owner with a few secrets of his own. John
is partnered up with Eva Marquez and gets into a chase with a suspect. When
he suffers what appears to be a heart attack and is revived by ER doctor
Sara Dillane, he realizes that mortality may be closer then he thought.
''

<http://www.pando.com/link/pando_package?id=43035F638F57DA56EE7282F44F60F323C8D95001&key=D23491361E90D338B5BB02013B9A142A437FB0A88870CF5DF1CB2FA168AFE6A1>
New
Amsterdam
From: sera
Size: 701MB, 2 files
Expires: Sep. 5, 2009
(?<http://services.pando.com/soapservices/Link?type=explainexpire&id=017963EC85D3307F01>
)

*Want to download faster? Get Pando Pro<https://www.pando.com/myaccount/create>
*
------------------------------
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Messages in this topic (4)
2b.: Re: Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 3, 4

Posted by: "gail caminiti" striktmommy@yahoo.com striktmommy

Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:48 pm (PDT)

do me a favor, when you package the episodes, mark it not only New Amsterdam but put 1,2 then 3,4 because pando sees New Amsterdamn on both sends and looks at it like it was already sent lol...........dah pando!
Gail

________________________________
From: Sera Angel <celtic.kiss@gmail.com>
To: now_showing@yahoogroups.com
Sent: Saturday, August 29, 2009 11:18:52 PM
Subject: [now_showing] Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 3, 4

''New York City homicide detective John Amsterdam is cursed with immortality because he stopped the murder of a Native Indian girl in 1642 by stepping in front of a sword. Due to this act of kindness, the Indian girl rescued Amsterdam from the stab wound by making him immortal, but warns that it is a curse that will only be lifted when John meets his true love.

Now, Amsterdam is a homicide detective in the Big Apple where he shares his secret with Omar, a blues club owner with a few secrets of his own. John is partnered up with Eva Marquez and gets into a chase with a suspect. When he suffers what appears to be a heart attack and is revived by ER doctor Sara Dillane, he realizes that mortality may be closer then he thought.
''

New Amsterdam
From: sera
Size: 701MB, 2 files
Expires: Sep. 5, 2009 (?)

Want to download faster? Get Pando Pro
________________________________
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Messages in this topic (4)
2c.: Re: Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 3, 4

Posted by: "Sera Angel" celtic.kiss@gmail.com sweet_celtic_kisses

Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:55 pm (PDT)

do you mean in the package name? Because I did state it in the subject line

Sera

On Sat, Aug 29, 2009 at 9:48 PM, gail caminiti <striktmommy@yahoo.com>wrote:

>
>
> do me a favor, when you package the episodes, mark it not only New
> Amsterdam but put 1,2 then 3,4 because pando sees New Amsterdamn on both
> sends and looks at it like it was already sent lol...........dah pando!
>
> Gail
>
> ------------------------------
> *From:* Sera Angel <celtic.kiss@gmail.com>
> *To:* now_showing@yahoogroups.com
> *Sent:* Saturday, August 29, 2009 11:18:52 PM
> *Subject:* [now_showing] Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 3, 4
>
>
>
> ''New York City homicide detective John *Amsterdam* is cursed with
> immortality because he stopped the murder of a Native Indian girl in 1642 by
> stepping in front of a sword. Due to this act of kindness, the Indian girl
> rescued *Amsterdam* from the stab wound by making him immortal, but warns
> that it is a curse that will only be lifted when John meets his true love.
>
> Now, *Amsterdam* is a homicide detective in the Big Apple where he shares
> his secret with Omar, a blues club owner with a few secrets of his own. John
> is partnered up with Eva Marquez and gets into a chase with a suspect. When
> he suffers what appears to be a heart attack and is revived by ER doctor
> Sara Dillane, he realizes that mortality may be closer then he thought.
> ''
>
> <http://www.pando.com/link/pando_package?id=43035F638F57DA56EE7282F44F60F323C8D95001&key=D23491361E90D338B5BB02013B9A142A437FB0A88870CF5DF1CB2FA168AFE6A1> New
> Amsterdam
> From: sera
> Size: 701MB, 2 files
> Expires: Sep. 5, 2009 (?<http://services.pando.com/soapservices/Link?type=explainexpire&id=017963EC85D3307F01>
> )
>
>
>
> *Want to download faster? Get Pando Pro<https://www.pando.com/myaccount/create>
> *
> ------------------------------
> Pando <http://www.pando.com/> is free software that lets you email large
> files and folders, up to 1GB, with your existing email address. Add delivery@pando.
> com <delivery@pando.com> to your address book so that Pando emails from
> your friends don't land in spam.
>
>
>
>
>
>

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Messages in this topic (4)
2d.: Re: Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 3, 4

Posted by: "gail caminiti" striktmommy@yahoo.com striktmommy

Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:58 pm (PDT)

yes, I'm sorry, brain fart! the Package name. Pando looked at it and went, ok you're already downloading that lol..........
thanks sweetie!
hugs
Gail

________________________________
From: Sera Angel <celtic.kiss@gmail.com>
To: now_showing@yahoogroups.com
Sent: Sunday, August 30, 2009 12:55:33 AM
Subject: Re: [now_showing] Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 3, 4

do you mean in the package name? Because I did state it in the subject line

Sera

On Sat, Aug 29, 2009 at 9:48 PM, gail caminiti <striktmommy@ yahoo.com> wrote:

>
>
>do me a favor, when you package the episodes, mark it not only New Amsterdam but put 1,2 then 3,4 because pando sees New Amsterdamn on both sends and looks at it like it was already sent lol......... ..dah pando!
> Gail
>
>
>
>
>
________________________________
From: Sera Angel <celtic.kiss@ gmail.com>
>To: now_showing@ yahoogroups. com
>Sent: Saturday, August 29, 2009 11:18:52 PM
>Subject: [now_showing] Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 3, 4
>
>
>
>''New York City homicide detective John Amsterdam is cursed with immortality because he stopped the murder of a Native Indian girl in 1642 by stepping in front of a sword. Due to this act of kindness, the Indian girl rescued Amsterdam from the stab wound by making him immortal, but warns that it is a curse that will only be lifted when John meets his true love.
>
>Now, Amsterdam is a homicide detective in the Big Apple where he shares his secret with Omar, a blues club owner with a few secrets of his own. John is partnered up with Eva Marquez and gets into a chase with a suspect. When he suffers what appears to be a heart attack and is revived by ER doctor Sara Dillane, he realizes that mortality may be closer then he thought.
>''
>
> New Amsterdam
>From: sera
>Size: 701MB, 2 files
>Expires: Sep. 5, 2009 (?)
>
>
>
>Want to download faster? Get Pando Pro
________________________________
Pando is free software that lets you email large files and folders, up to 1GB, with your existing email address. Add delivery@pando. com to your address book so that Pando emails from your friends don't land in spam.
>
>
>
>
>
>

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3.: A/C alison angel - camel toe.wmv

Posted by: "kenny" pandokdj@gmail.com pandokdj

Sat Aug 29, 2009 8:22 pm (PDT)

** YOU'LL NEED PANDO TO OPEN THIS ATTACHMENT. **
** Get Pando free here: www.pando.com/downloadfree **

Want to download faster? Get Pando Pro: https://www.pando.com/myaccount/create

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4a.: Re: PA A Man Apart (2003) DVDRiP

Posted by: "ButterflyRoses4U@aol.com" ButterflyRoses4U@aol.com butterflyroses67

Sat Aug 29, 2009 8:37 pm (PDT)

Does anyone have anymore Vin Diesel movies they would be glad to share i
only have this one and the new Fast and Furious movies that's it, I really
like him a lot !!
Thank u in advance

In a message dated 8/29/2009 3:33:46 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time,
psexton312@comcast.net writes:

A Man Apart (2003) DVDRip

Sean Vetter and Demetrius Hicks are members of the DEA who are fighting an
ongoing drug war on the California/Mexico borderthey are most successful
at it because of their edge of growing up on the street and being thugs
converted to cops. The DEA busts one of the major players by the name of
"Memo" Lucero and imprison him in the United States but then a major player
named Diablo then takes over the business and now he is now the major player
targeted by Vetter and his team. But when Vetter's wife is killed in a
botched hit organized by Diablohe seeks revenge against those responsible and in
the process has to seek help from the imprisoned Lucero in order to catch
Diablo. But in the processVetter and Hicks have to fight their way up the
chain to get to Diablo but it's easier said than done when all Vetter can
focus on is revenge.

_http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0266465/_
(http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0266465/)

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&package=BED6187BC5F61F55DFA55112820C76629BB7C9DB&key=CC9D4A0B087F5B54DADD0F
55031D4A6CECE04C5AE453C604D4B0B36E75524DE5) .

(http://www.pando.com/link/pando_package?id=BED6187BC5F61F55DFA55112820C76629BB7C9DB&key=CC9D4A0B087F5B54DADD0F55031D4A6CECE04C5AE453C604D4B0B36E755
24DE5) A Man Apart (2003) DVDRiP
From: Team Angel ~ Cherokee ~
Size: 699MB, 2 files
Expires: Oct. 27, 2009 (_?_
(http://services.pando.com/soapservices/Link?type=explainexpire&id=D7BF8A36F91295C701) )

____________________________________

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large files and folders, up to 1GB, with your existing email address. Add
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(http://www.cure4lupus.org/information/history_of_lupus.htm)
(http://cure4lupus.org/awareness/world_lupus_day.htm)
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Educated_ (http://www.cure4lupus.org/lupus_information.htm)

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Always Remember:
~ Behind every word typed on your Screen ~
~ There is a Real Person tapping the Keys to make them Appear ~
~ This Person has a Heart and Genuine Emotions ~
~ Please Respect Them ~

(http://www.myyearbook.com/?mysession=cmVnaXN0cmF0aW9uX3Byb2ZpbGU=)
"Silent Gratitude Isn't Much Use To Anyone"

Please take the time to thank the great members of our
wonderful group for their hard work and shares ...

"I would like to thank each and every one of you for all you do!"

No virus found in this outgoing message.
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06:39:00

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5a.: Re: [Gail] question to Canadian members

Posted by: "gail caminiti" striktmommy@yahoo.com striktmommy

Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:03 pm (PDT)

I love this show.
When it starts, I can get them from a torrent site. I just didn't know when season 3 started as I am so looking forward to it........
also
in England---The Mistresses
Gail

________________________________
From: Char <chartags@alaska.net>
To: now_showing@yahoogroups.com
Sent: Saturday, August 29, 2009 9:41:31 PM
Subject: Re: [now_showing] Re: [Gail] question to Canadian members

Season 2

14.   2- 1        201     29 Sep 08   Stop Loss
15.   2- 2        202      6 Oct 08   Target of Opportunity
16.   2- 3        203     13 Oct 08   Floral Tribute
17.   2- 4        204     20 Oct 08   Nothing to Declare
18.   2- 5        205     27 Oct 08   Peak Oil
19.   2- 6        206      3 Nov 08   Prescriptive Measures
20.   2- 7        207     10 Nov 08   Articles of Faith
21.   2- 8        208     17 Nov 08   The Sweep
22.   2- 9        209     24 Nov 08   Good Intentions
23.   2-10        210      1 Dec 08   Double Dating
24.   2-11        211      8 Dec 08   Acceptable Risk
25.   2-12        212     15 Dec 08   Shifting Waters
26.   2-13        213     22 Dec 08   Deadly Force

----- Original Message -----
>From: mrs.C
>To: now_showing@ yahoogroups. com
>Sent: Saturday, August 29, 2009 12:17 PM
>Subject: [now_showing] Re: [Gail] question to Canadian members
>
>
>it says in the fall of 2009, I keep watching.... ..I know it will be on on Monday night 9PM
>I have trouble sending to the group, been in contact with Yahoo for over a week now but not any closer to solving the problem..... .
>Hugs and blessings, Christa
>
>"True patience is accepting a difficult situation
>without giving God a deadline to remove it!"
>
>----- Original Message -----
>>From: gail caminiti
>>To: now_showing@ yahoogroups. com
>>Sent: Saturday, August 29, 2009 12:21 PM
>>Subject: [now_showing] question to Canadian members
>>
>>
>>Can you tell me when the new season of the Border starts?
>> Gail
>>

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6.: Jim-New Amsterdan Episodes 5, 6

Posted by: "Sera Angel" celtic.kiss@gmail.com sweet_celtic_kisses

Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:22 pm (PDT)

You'll need Pando to open this attachment. Get Pando free
here<http://services.pando.com/soapservices/Link?type=install&id=25A3F00205E9029201&package=6255F0D6A1EBB38C9C4F4FD66A2259CACA2FA966&key=CC534ADA4F8D02321232AC01BD39BA7FE02D7CA5FB9DE4A4ACC7FE9B8AF6CCCE>.

<http://www.pando.com/link/pando_package?id=6255F0D6A1EBB38C9C4F4FD66A2259CACA2FA966&key=CC534ADA4F8D02321232AC01BD39BA7FE02D7CA5FB9DE4A4ACC7FE9B8AF6CCCE>
New
Amsterdam
From: sera
Size: 695MB, 2 files
Expires: Sep. 5, 2009
(?<http://services.pando.com/soapservices/Link?type=explainexpire&id=25A3F00205E9029201>
)

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7a.: She - Devil (1989)

Posted by: "XTRO" brose661984@yahoo.com brose661984

Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:31 pm (PDT)

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Ruth is a wife and mother who tries to please her husband, even though she is fat. But when her husband falls into an affair with a certain romance novelist, Ruth goes bezerk and demands revenge. First she embarresses her husband when his parents come over to dinner. Then when he leaves her for good, Ruth comes up with a list of everything that belongs to her husband then the revenge is to destroy all of it. Because, she's a She Devil!

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7b.: Re: She - Devil (1989)

Posted by: "niahflame@sbcglobal.net" niahflame@sbcglobal.net offsprng_girl

Sat Aug 29, 2009 10:38 pm (PDT)

Thanks for this movie! I LOVE this. I hope I still have Ashampoo so I can burn it.

Stacie

--- On Sun, 8/30/09, XTRO <brose661984@yahoo.com> wrote:

From: XTRO <brose661984@yahoo.com>
Subject: [now_showing] She - Devil (1989)
To: now_showing@yahoogroups.com
Date: Sunday, August 30, 2009, 12:31 AM

#yiv2052099478 GABLE{border:1px solid red;}
#yiv2052099478 GD{border:1px solid gray;}

You'll need Pando to open this attachment. Get Pando free here.

She - Devil (1989)

From:
XTRO

Size:

693MB, 2 files

Expires:
Sep. 13, 2009
(?)

Ruth is a wife and mother who tries to please her husband, even though she is fat. But when her husband falls into an affair with a certain romance novelist, Ruth goes bezerk and demands revenge. First she embarresses her husband when his parents come over to dinner. Then when he leaves her for good, Ruth comes up with a list of everything that belongs to her husband then the revenge is to destroy all of it. Because, she's a She Devil!

Want to download faster? Get Pando Pro

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8.: pando MO: Randy & The Mob 2007 DVDRip

Posted by: "*~Patti (PS)~*" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:45 pm (PDT)

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Randy & The Mob 2007 DVDRip.AVI
From: windyt
Size: 701MB
Expires: Oct. 28, 2009 (?)

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Do you know what Lupus is? Get Educated !!

Lupus information What is Lupus-get Educated

*HUGS* TOTAL! give Patti more *HUGS*

Patti's myspace Patti on Tagged Hi5 Patti
Lupus information myYearbook | Patti Patti's Xanga's

Always Remember:
~ Behind every word typed on your Screen ~
~ There is a Real Person tapping the Keys to make them Appear ~
~ This Person has a Heart and Genuine Emotions ~
~ Please Respect Them ~

"Silent Gratitude Isn't Much Use To Anyone"

Please take the time to thank the great members of our
wonderful group for their hard work and shares ...

"I would like to thank each and every one of you for all you do!"
----------

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9.: PA Legend of Atlantis

Posted by: "*~Patti (PS)~*" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:45 pm (PDT)

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Legend of Atlantis
From: Team Angel David â™¦ Please Share With Everyone
Size: 2.8GB, 5 files
Expires: Oct. 25, 2009 (?)

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ï»¿ ï»¿
ï»¿ ï»¿ ï»¿ ï»¿ ï»¿ ï»¿ ï»¿ ï»¿ ï»¿ ï»¿ ï»¿ ï»¿

http://aan.org/files/FolioWeekly_DumpLife.pdf
Do you know what Lupus is? Get Educated !!

Lupus information What is Lupus-get Educated

*HUGS* TOTAL! give Patti more *HUGS*

Patti's myspace Patti on Tagged Hi5 Patti
Lupus information myYearbook | Patti Patti's Xanga's

Always Remember:
~ Behind every word typed on your Screen ~
~ There is a Real Person tapping the Keys to make them Appear ~
~ This Person has a Heart and Genuine Emotions ~
~ Please Respect Them ~

"Silent Gratitude Isn't Much Use To Anyone"

Please take the time to thank the great members of our
wonderful group for their hard work and shares ...

"I would like to thank each and every one of you for all you do!"
----------

No virus found in this outgoing message.
Checked by AVG - www.avg.com
Version: 8.5.409 / Virus Database: 270.13.71/2333 - Release Date: 08/29/09 06:39:00

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10a.: Re: Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 1 and 2

Posted by: "gail caminiti" striktmommy@yahoo.com striktmommy

Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:46 pm (PDT)

is this an old tv show? sounds interesting !
Gail

________________________________
From: Sera Angel <celtic.kiss@gmail.com>
To: now_showing@yahoogroups.com
Sent: Saturday, August 29, 2009 11:13:52 PM
Subject: [now_showing] Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 1 and 2

''New York City homicide detective John Amsterdam is cursed with immortality because he stopped the murder of a Native Indian girl in 1642 by stepping in front of a sword. Due to this act of kindness, the Indian girl rescued Amsterdam from the stab wound by making him immortal, but warns that it is a curse that will only be lifted when John meets his true love.

Now, Amsterdam is a homicide detective in the Big Apple where he shares his secret with Omar, a blues club owner with a few secrets of his own. John is partnered up with Eva Marquez and gets into a chase with a suspect. When he suffers what appears to be a heart attack and is revived by ER doctor Sara Dillane, he realizes that mortality may be closer then he thought.
''

You'll need Pando to open this attachment. Get Pando free here.

New Amsterdam
From: sera
Size: 701MB, 2 files
Expires: Sep. 5, 2009 (?)

Want to download faster? Get Pando Pro
________________________________
Pando is free software that lets you email large files and folders, up to 1GB, with your existing email address. Add delivery@pando. com to your address book so that Pando emails from your friends don't land in spam.

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10b.: Re: Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 1 and 2

Posted by: "Sera Angel" celtic.kiss@gmail.com sweet_celtic_kisses

Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:57 pm (PDT)

yes, There were only eight episodes total though!
They never gave it a chance.

On Sat, Aug 29, 2009 at 9:45 PM, gail caminiti <striktmommy@yahoo.com>wrote:

>
>
> is this an old tv show? sounds interesting !
>
> Gail
>
> ------------------------------
> *From:* Sera Angel <celtic.kiss@gmail.com>
> *To:* now_showing@yahoogroups.com
> *Sent:* Saturday, August 29, 2009 11:13:52 PM
> *Subject:* [now_showing] Jim-New Amsterdam Episodes 1 and 2
>
>
>
> ''New York City homicide detective John *Amsterdam* is cursed with
> immortality because he stopped the murder of a Native Indian girl in 1642 by
> stepping in front of a sword. Due to this act of kindness, the Indian girl
> rescued *Amsterdam* from the stab wound by making him immortal, but warns
> that it is a curse that will only be lifted when John meets his true love.
>
> Now, *Amsterdam* is a homicide detective in the Big Apple where he shares
> his secret with Omar, a blues club owner with a few secrets of his own. John
> is partnered up with Eva Marquez and gets into a chase with a suspect. When
> he suffers what appears to be a heart attack and is revived by ER doctor
> Sara Dillane, he realizes that mortality may be closer then he thought.
> ''
>
> You'll need Pando to open this attachment. Get Pando free here<http://services.pando.com/soapservices/Link?type=install&id=F2713065EC44FAA801&package=9B248559183CDCCD356FDCC600E1227E1E2BD28B&key=51F5EB651F797ADF2230ECF66BA40B3C3092A41A4D08DE3C663DD88E432BC446>.
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> Amsterdam
> From: sera
> Size: 701MB, 2 files
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> )
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11.: ManagEmeNt...M0v RS & PA

Posted by: "*~Patti (PS)~*" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:50 pm (PDT)

Code:
http://rapidshare.com/files/269676031/management.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/269676176/management.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/269675874/management.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/269675782/management.part4.rar
Password: www.BayW.org

[www.BayW.org].Management.LiMiTED.DVDRip.XviD-DoNE.avi
From: It's Me Again
Size: 699MB
Expires: Oct. 20, 2009 (?)

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http://aan.org/files/FolioWeekly_DumpLife.pdf
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~ There is a Real Person tapping the Keys to make them Appear ~
~ This Person has a Heart and Genuine Emotions ~
~ Please Respect Them ~

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Please take the time to thank the great members of our
wonderful group for their hard work and shares ...

"I would like to thank each and every one of you for all you do!"
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12.: New Amsterdam 1 and 2

Posted by: "sera" celtic.kiss@gmail.com sweet_celtic_kisses

Sat Aug 29, 2009 10:00 pm (PDT)

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13.: RESEND TV - RS & PA: In Plain Sight - Season 2 [Episodes 1 - 13]

Posted by: "*~Patti (PS)~*" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Sat Aug 29, 2009 10:02 pm (PDT)

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In Plain Sight
Season 2: 2009

01 "Gilted Lily" April 19, 2009
Mary helps to protect three siblings after their mother, a previous member
witness, is found dead in her house. Liza Weil guest stars.
http://rapidshare.com/files/225320546/IPS02E01.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/225320549/IPS02E01.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/225320550/IPS02E01.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/225320554/IPS02E01.part4.rar

02 "In My Humbolt Opinion" April 26, 2009
A northern California marijuana mastermind cannot testify without using the
drug to neutralize his anxiety disorder, leading him to fake amnesia to get
out of his court date. Mary is observed by a psychiatrist to determine if
she is ready to return to active duty.
http://rapidshare.com/files/226950759/IPS02E02.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/226957763/IPS02E02.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/226957741/IPS02E02.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/226957758/IPS02E02.part4.rar

03 "A Stand-Up Triple" May 3, 2009
A mother who is reluctant to play by the rules and her three children enter
the program. When the eldest boy begins ditching school, Mary must deal with
his behavior and soon discovers what's really behind it. Jinx's court date
approaches, but she still believes she did nothing wrong. Brandi agrees to
attend an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting as Jinx and meets a new man. After
watching the video of her arrest, Jinx breaks down, and pleads guilty when
she arrives at court.
http://rapidshare.com/files/229431071/IPS02E03.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/229456704/IPS02E03.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/229461748/IPS02E03.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/229468855/IPS02E03.part4.rar

04 "Rubble With A Cause" May 10, 2009
When a witness is trapped in a collapsed building, Mary must keep him alive
while guarding him from his former partner, who may be targeting him from a
nearby building. On the ground, Stan and Marshall must fend off a determined
reporter who may expose the man's real identity, further endangering his
life. Brandi tries to make amends after admitting to Peter that she
pretended to be Jinx.
http://rapidshare.com/files/231883197/IPS02E04.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/231883201/IPS02E04.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/231883207/IPS02E04.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/231883204/IPS02E04.part4.rar

05 "Aguna Matatala" May 17, 2009
An Orthodox Jew enters the program, but his wife, who was shocked by his
illegal conduct, refuses witness protection and seeks a divorce. A rabbi,
who wants the resistant husband to sign divorce papers, annoys Mary with his
persistence. To resolve the situation Mary must find a way to make everyone
happy. Meanwhile, Jinx returns home from rehab and Brandi is asked out on a
date by Peter.
http://rapidshare.com/files/234648962/IPS02E05.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/234648968/IPS02E05.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/234648967/IPS02E05.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/234648970/IPS02E05.part4.rar

06 "One Night Stan" May 31, 2009
Stan's first witness from 1988 turns up buried in the desert, and his
suspicious reluctance to help the FBI leads to him becoming the chief
suspect. Mary and Marshall's investigation of the case uncovers a story of
his rookie mistakes, a cover-up and a love triangle.
http://rapidshare.com/files/239816989/IPS02E06.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/239816990/IPS02E06.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/239816994/IPS02E06.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/239816995/IPS02E06.part4.rar

07 "Duplicate Bridge" June 7, 2009
A witness of Marshall's, the architect of a bridge that collapsed, appears
to have committed suicide. However Marshall is convinced that he has faked
his suicide and has a plan to get justice against the man he testified
against - the boss of the bridge construction company. Marshall and Mary set
out to find him before he carries out his plan.
http://rapidshare.com/files/247868059/IPS02E07.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/247881114/IPS02E07.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/247881156/IPS02E07.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/247885852/IPS02E07.part4.rar

08 "A Frond in Need" June 14, 2009
When a series of murders seem to follow a new ex-con witness, including
stabbing Mary's friend, she and Marshall have to figure out if he's the
killer in time to save his next victim.
http://rapidshare.com/files/247893051/IPS02E08.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/247914283/IPS02E08.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/247919134/IPS02E08.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/247919191/IPS02E08.part4.rar

09 "Who's Bugging Mary?" June 21, 2009
When agent O'Connor arrests Brandi for drug trafficking and murder, Mary
races to find a way out for Brandi.
http://rapidshare.com/files/247924221/IPS02E09.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/247938206/IPS02E09.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/247941797/IPS02E09.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/247944218/IPS02E09.part4.rar

10 "Miles to Go" June 28, 2009
After briefing a new witness, whose testimony is contingent on visitation
rights with his son, Mary learns the son is missing and sets out to find him

http://rapidshare.com/files/250178038/IPS02E10.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/250178042/IPS02E10.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/250178037/IPS02E10.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/250178043/IPS02E10.part4.rar

11 "Jailbait" July 12, 2009
The barely legal daughter of Mary s witness, a Miami racketeer, is in a
dangerous romance; Raph s mother visits to prepare an engagement feast for
surprised Mary.
http://rapidshare.com/files/255763219/IPSS02E11.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/255763275/IPSS02E11.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/255763273/IPSS02E11.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/255763283/IPSS02E11.part4.rar

12 "Training Video" July 19, 2009
Mary serves as technical advisor for a new training video; Marshall arranges
to get one of Witsec s charter members, a former Philadelphia mobster, to
his son s funeral.
http://rapidshare.com/files/258183837/IPSS02E12.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/258192605/IPSS02E12.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/258198520/IPSS02E12.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/258202777/IPSS02E12.part4.rar

13 "Let's Get it Ahn" July 26, 2009
A world-class counterfeiter witness - whose girlfriend's infidelity moved
her to confess - is suspected in the murder of another "friend", where even
the clues seem forged, until Mary and Marshall realize they may be hiding a
witness from the government itself.
http://rapidshare.com/files/260636743/IPSS002E13.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/260636748/IPSS002E13.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/260636742/IPSS002E13.part3.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/260636745/IPSS002E13.part4.rar

No virus found in this incoming message.
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Version: 8.5.392 / Virus Database: 270.13.31/2265 - Release Date: 07/27/09
17:59:00

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Do you know what Lupus is? Get Educated !!

Lupus information What is Lupus-get Educated

*HUGS* TOTAL! give Patti more *HUGS*

Patti's myspace Patti on Tagged Hi5 Patti
Lupus information myYearbook | Patti Patti's Xanga's

Always Remember:
~ Behind every word typed on your Screen ~
~ There is a Real Person tapping the Keys to make them Appear ~
~ This Person has a Heart and Genuine Emotions ~
~ Please Respect Them ~

"Silent Gratitude Isn't Much Use To Anyone"

Please take the time to thank the great members of our
wonderful group for their hard work and shares ...

"I would like to thank each and every one of you for all you do!"

----------

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14a.: New Amsterdam 3,4,5,6,7,8

Posted by: "sera" celtic.kiss@gmail.com sweet_celtic_kisses

Sat Aug 29, 2009 10:03 pm (PDT)

** YOU'LL NEED PANDO TO OPEN THIS ATTACHMENT. **
** Get Pando free here: www.pando.com/downloadfree **

This is it, the last of the shows, there were only eight total

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14b.: Re: New Amsterdam 3,4,5,6,7,8

Posted by: "gail caminiti" striktmommy@yahoo.com striktmommy

Sat Aug 29, 2009 10:24 pm (PDT)

ty!
Gail

________________________________
From: sera <celtic.kiss@gmail.com>
To: now_showing@yahoogroups.com
Sent: Sunday, August 30, 2009 1:03:46 AM
Subject: [now_showing] New Amsterdam 3,4,5,6,7,8

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New Amsterdam 3,4,5,6,7,8
From: sera
Size: 2GB, 6 files
Expires: Sep. 13, 2009 (?)
This is it, the last of the shows, there were only eight total

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15.: ufc8-cd1.avi

Posted by: "*~Patti (PS)~*" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Sat Aug 29, 2009 10:06 pm (PDT)

You'll need Pando to open this attachment. Get Pando free here.

m-ufc8-cd1.avi
From: On Ur Knees Bitch
Size: 702MB
Expires: Sep. 28, 2009 (?)

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16.: UFC cd1

Posted by: "*~Patti (PS)~*" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Sat Aug 29, 2009 10:07 pm (PDT)

You'll need Pando to open this attachment. Get Pando free here.

m-ufc8-cd1.avi
From: On Ur Knees Bitch
Size: 702MB
Expires: Sep. 28, 2009 (?)

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17.: ufc8-cd2.avi

Posted by: "*~Patti (PS)~*" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Sat Aug 29, 2009 10:07 pm (PDT)

You'll need Pando to open this attachment. Get Pando free here.

m-ufc8-cd2.avi
From: On Ur Knees Bitch
Size: 691MB
Expires: Sep. 28, 2009 (?)

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18.: ISO Ashampoo Burning Studio 9

Posted by: "niahflame@sbcglobal.net" niahflame@sbcglobal.net offsprng_girl

Sat Aug 29, 2009 10:52 pm (PDT)

Prefriended or with a keygenn. Something that my Avast won't think is a virus. LOL.

Stacie

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19a.: Re: ISO......SANDRA BROWN E BOOKS

Posted by: "PepsidrinkerPam@aol.com" PepsidrinkerPam@aol.com peppsi4me

Sat Aug 29, 2009 11:13 pm (PDT)

here is all 3

----------

ÿþ

----------

Texas! Lucky

Sandra Brown

1

There was going to be trouble, and, hell, he
just wasn't in the mood for it.
Lucky Tyler, seated on a barstool, was
nursing his second whiskey and water.
Bothered again by the rough, masculine
laughter coming from one corner of the
tavern, he glanced irritably over his shoulder
to look in that direction.
'Might've known Little Alvin would sniff
her out,' the bartender said.
Lucky only grunted in response. Turning
back to his drink, he hunched his shoulders
and sank a little deeper into his slouching
position on the barstool. He reasoned that if
the broad hadn't wanted the attentions of
Little Alvin or any other guy, she wouldn't
have come into the lounge alone.
Describing the place as a lounge sure was
euphemistic, he thought. The place was a
bona fide honky-tonk. It didn't possess a
single feature that would elevate it to any
higher caliber of drinking hole than that.
It had first opened during the boom, fifty
or so years earlier. Before the bar had a
flashing neon star out front, before it had

indoor plumbing, the place had served
bootleg liquor to roughnecks, wildcatters, and
the ladies of the night who comforted them
when the wells turned up dry or who took
their money when they struck black gold.

The highway tavern hadn't had a name
then that anybody could remember, and it
didn't have one now. It was simply known to
locals as 'the place,' as in, 'Meet'chu at the
place after work for a drink.' Respectable men
frequented it alongside those who weren't
respectable.

But a respectable woman wouldn't be
caught dead inside. If a woman came to the
place, she was there for one reason and one
reason only. The instant a woman alone
darkened the door, hunting season commenced.
It was understood.

That's why Lucky wasn't too concerned
about the welfare of the woman being hassled
by Little Alvin and one of his least savory
companions, Jack Ed Patterson.

However, when another burst of laughter
erupted from the corner, Lucky swung his
gaze around again. Several things struck him
as odd. A long-neck beer stood on the
chipped Formica table in front of the woman,
along with a half-filled glass. A glass? She
must have requested it, because at the place
long necks weren't usually served with a glass

even to a woman. Strange that she had asked
for a glass.

She wasn't exactly dolled up either. Oh, she
was good-looking, all right, but her makeup
was conservative, and her clothing upscale
and chic. She wasn't your ordinary gal-about-town
on the prowl or even a housewife
looking for a distraction from the daily grind
or revenge on an inattentive husband. He
couldn't quite pigeonhole her, and that
intrigued him.

'How long's she been here?' he asked the
bartender.

'Got here 'bout a half hour 'fore you came
in. Know her?'

Lucky shook his head no.

'Then she sure as hell ain't from around
here.' The bartender guffawed, implying that
Lucky kept a more accurate account of the
local female population than the Census
Bureau. Which was the truth.

'Soon as she came in and ordered her beer,
she drew everybody's attention like flies to
honey. 'Course, the rest backed off when
Little Alvin showed more than a passing
interest.'

'Yeah, he's a real ladies' man, all right,'
Lucky said sardonically.

Little Alvin had been so-dubbed merely
because he was eighth of the eight offspring

born to the Cagneys. Standing 6' 5", he
weighed about 290, 30 pounds of it put on
since he had left the NFL several years
earlier.

He'd been playing first-string linebacker
for the Denver Broncos when he caused a
league controversy. One of his quarterback
sacks had left a rookie Dolphins player with
blurred vision, stuttering speech, and a
retirement pension.

The tackle had been so unnecessarily
rough, Little Alvin himself had suffered a
dislocated shoulder. The team management
had used his injury as its reason for not
picking up his contract at the end of that
season, but it was speculated that management
was glad of the excuse to get rid of him.

Upon his suspension, Little Alvin had
returned home to East Texas and picked up
where he'd left off years before as Milton
Point's meanest bully. He still considered
himself a superstud football hero.

Tonight neither his dubious charm nor his
fame were working on the woman he'd set his
sights on. Even from across the dim, smoky
lounge, Lucky could see that she was growing
more agitated by the minute.

The George Straight ballad blaring from
the jukebox prevented him from hearing the
words they exchanged, but when Little Alvin

laid a meaty hand on the woman's shoulder,
there was no mistaking how she felt about his
romantic overtures. She shrugged off his
hand and reached for her purse. She
attempted to slide out of the booth, but 290
pounds of Little Alvin Cagney, along with his
sidekick, Jack Ed Patterson, who had recently
done time in Huntsville State Prison for
assault with a deadly weapon, blocked her
escape.

Lucky sighed. He was going to have to do
something about this, and damned if he was
in the mood for it. It had been a hell of a
week. Business was rotten, and a loan
payment was only weeks away from coming
due. Susan was dropping hints about a
diamond ring for her left hand. The last thing
he needed was a run-in with a couple of
lowlifes like Little Alvin and Jack Ed.

But what if their quarry had been his kid
sister, Sage? He would like to think that some
decent guy would come to her aid. Of course,
Sage was smart enough not to get herself into
a sticky situation like this. But you couldn't
decline to protect a woman's virtue just
because she was dimwitted.

His daddy had drilled into him and Chase,
his older brother by a year and a half, that
when a lady said no to a pass, the answer was
no. Period. No questions asked. The woman

might not be very nice for leading a guy on
and then changing her mind at the last
minute, but the answer was still, unequivocally,
no. And his mother expected him to
treat every woman chivalrously, no matter
how trashy she was.

His ears still rang whenever he recalled the
lecture his mother had given him in the ninth
grade, when he brought home the delicious
gossip that Drucilla Hawkins had 'done it' at
the drive-in the previous Saturday night.
What had gone on in the backseat of her
boyfriend's blue Dodge was the talk of the
school.

Laurie Tyler wasn't interested in the juicy
details of Miss Hawkins's fall from grace.
She had sternly warned her younger son
that he had better not be overheard
defaming any girl's reputation, no matter
how reliable the source of the gossip was.
He'd been admonished to treat every
woman — and her reputation — with
respect and dignity. It had been such a
scalding lecture that he remembered it to
this day, nearly twenty years later, at the
ripe old age of thirty-two.

He muttered another foul curse beneath
his breath, and tossed back the remainder of
his drink. Some things you had to do whether
you wanted to or not. Defending a woman

from Little Alvin and Jack Ed was one of
those things.

One booted foot, then the other, unhooked
its heel from the chrome rung encircling the
legs of the barstool. Lucky swiveled around
on the maroon vinyl seat, worn slick and
smooth by too many rear ends to count.

'Careful, Lucky,' the bartender warned.
'They've been drinking all afternoon. You
know how mean Little Alvin gets when he's
drunk. Jack Ed's bound to have his knife
handy, too.'

'I'm not looking for trouble.'

'Maybe not, but if you cut in on Little
Alvin's action, you'll get trouble.'

Apparently everyone else in the place
smelled trouble, too, because the moment
Lucky left his stool at the bar, bells on the
pinball machines fell silent for the first time
in hours. The row of video games still
beeped and burped and flashed a
kaleidoscope of electronic colors, but those
playing them turned curiously, instantly
attuned to the sudden shift in the
atmosphere. It was like the expectant
stillness before a tornado struck.

Drinkers at the bar and those occupying
booths ceased conversations to follow Lucky's
swaggering progress across the room toward
the booth where the woman was demanding

that an amused Little Alvin get out of her
way.

'I'd like to leave now.'

Lucky wasn't fooled by the quiet calm in
her voice. Her eyes were shifting nervously
between the two men. Jack Ed was a fraction
of Little Alvin's size, but in his own way he
was intimidating. He had a ferret's eyes and
the sharp, pointed grin of a jackal. They
hadn't fallen for her phony defiance any more
than he had.

'How come you're in such a hurry, honey?'
Little Alvin cooed. He bent over her so far,
she recoiled into the corner of the booth.
'We're just startin' to have fun.'

Jack Ed giggled at his friend's clever way
with words. His laughter broke off when
Lucky spoke from behind him.

'I don't think the lady's having any fun
a-tall, Alvin.'

Little Alvin came around with all the grace,
agility and temperament of a bull whose tail
had just been given a hard yank. Lucky was
standing with one thumb tucked beneath his
waistband, the hand casually curled over his
tooled-leather belt, and the other braced
against the tarnished brass hat rack mounted
on the end of the neighboring booth. His feet
were crossed at the ankles. He was smiling
pleasantly. Only the cocky tilt of his dark

blond head and the coldness of his blue eyes
belied his friendly tone of voice.

'Bug off, Tyler. This is none of your
b'iness.'

'Oh, I think it is. Since a dumb slab of meat
like you doesn't seem to appeal to the lady,
she's still fair game, right?' Lucky looked
down at the woman and gave her the warm
smile and lazy wink that had coaxed a legion
of women out of their better judgment and
their clothing. 'Hi. How're you doin'?'

Little Alvin growled his disapproval and
took two hulking footsteps toward Lucky,
whom he championed in size by three inches
in height and a hundred pounds. He swung a
ham-size fist toward Lucky's head.

Lucky, for all his seeming nonchalance, was
braced and ready for the attack. He parried
quickly to his left, ducking the blow and
simultaneously catching Jack Ed under the
chin with his elbow. Everybody in the place
heard his lupine teeth smash together. Jack
Ed careened into the nearest pinball machine,
which set up a chorus of ringing bells.

Having temporarily dispatched Jack Ed,
Lucky pivoted in time to place his right eye
directly in the path of Alvin's ramming right
fist. Lucky had been kicked in the head by a
horse when he was twelve. The kick had
knocked him cold. It hadn't hurt nearly as

much as Alvin's punch.

His whole body shivered with the pain of
the impact. If he'd had time to indulge it, his
stomach would have rebelled by heaving up
two glasses of whiskey and water. As it was,
he knew he had to either get back into the
fight or die at the enraged hands of Little
Alvin Cagney.

Bar patrons were cheering him on, except
those who feared reprisal from Alvin.
Knowing all he had on his side were dexterity
and speed, he lowered his head and drove his
shoulder into Alvin's gut, knocking the larger
man off balance.

A sudden shout warned him of Jack Ed's
recovery. Spinning around, he barely had
time to suck in his midsection before Jack Ed
took a swipe at it with his infamous knife. He
kicked the extended knife out of Jack Ed's
hand, then gave him a quick chop in the
Adam's apple with the edge of his hand. The
ex-con toppled into a table; it crashed to the
floor. Jack Ed sprawled beside it unconscious,
lying in a puddle of spilled beer and broken
glass.

Lucky came around again to confront
Alvin. Looking like the provoked giant in a
Grimm's tale, the former linebacker was
crouched in an attack stance.

'Stop this!'

The woman was out of the booth. Hands
on hips, she was furiously addressing both of
them, though Lucky seemed the only one
aware of her. Little Alvin's eyes were red with
fury. His nostrils were receding and expanding
like twin bellows.
'Get out of the way or you'll get hurt!'
Lucky shouted to her.
'I want this to stop. You're behaving
like -- '
Little Alvin, giving her no more regard than
he would a pesky housefly, flicked his hand at
her, catching her lip and drawing blood. She
fell backward.
'You son of a bitch,' Lucky snarled. Any
brute who would strike a woman didn't
deserve a clean fight. Swinging up his booted foot, he viciously caught the
other man in the
crotch.
Instantly Little Alvin was stunned motionless,
seemingly held upright by the gasps
that rose from the onlookers. Then he
clutched the injured area and dropped to his
knees, rattling glassware throughout the
building. At last, eyes crossing, he went over
face first into the puddle of beer beside Jack
Ed.
Lucky gulped in several cleansing breaths
and tentatively dabbed at his swelling eye.
Stiffly he approached the woman, who was

attempting to stanch her bleeding lip with a
paper napkin.
'You all right?'
She flung her head up and glared at him
with vivid green eyes. Lucky, expecting tears,
admiration, and gushing gratitude, was
startled to see naked enmity on her face.
'Thanks a lot,' she said sarcastically. 'You
were a big help.'
'Wha -- '
'Lucky,' the bartender called to him, 'here
comes the sheriff.'
Lucky blew out a gust of breath as he
surveyed the damage the fight had caused.
Overturned tables and chairs made the place
look as if it had sustained storm damage.
Broken glass, spilled beer, and capsized
ashtrays had left a disgusting mess on the
floor where two battered bodies still lay.
And the ungrateful tart, whose honor he
had stupidly defended, was mad at him.
Some days, no matter how hard you tried,
nothing went right. Placing his hands on his
hips, his head dropping forward, he muttered,
'Hell.'

Sheriff Patrick Bush shook his head in dismay
as he observed Little Alvin and Jack Ed. Alvin
was rolling from side to side, groaning and
clutching his groin; Jack Ed remained
blessedly unconscious.
The sheriff maneuvered the matchstick
from one corner of his mouth to the other
and looked up at Lucky from beneath the
wide brim of his Stetson. 'Now, how come
you went and did that to these boys, huh?'
'Might've known I'd get blamed for it,'
Lucky grumbled as he plowed his fingers
through his thick hair, raking it off his
forehead.
The sheriff pointed toward Lucky's middle.
'You hurt?'
Only then did Lucky notice that his shirt
had been ripped and was hanging open. Jack
Ed's knife had left a thin red arc across his
stomach. 'It's okay.'
'Need an ambulance?'
'Hell, no.' He swabbed at the trickle of
blood with his tattered shirt.
'Start cleaning up this mess,' the sheriff
ordered his accompanying deputy. Turning to

Lucky, he asked, 'What happened?'
'They were coming on to her, and she
didn't like it.'
Bush looked at the woman, who had been
standing nearby, silently fuming. She had
tried to leave earlier, but had been instructed
to stay put until the sheriff got around to
asking her a few questions.
'You okay, ma'am?'The sheriff was looking
worriedly at her lip. It was slightly swollen,
but no longer bleeding. Despite the unnatural
fullness, it was pulled into a tight, narrow
grimace.
'I'm perfectly fine. I was perfectly fine
when Sir Galahad here took it upon himself
to interfere.'
'Sorry,' Lucky snapped, 'I thought I was
helping you out.'
'Helping? You call this helping?' She flung
her arms wide to encompass the damage
done to the place. 'All you did was create an
unnecessary ruckus.'
'That true, Lucky?' the sheriff asked.
Barely controlling his temper as he glared
down at the woman, Lucky said, 'Ask the
witnesses.'
The sheriff methodically polled the
bystanders. All murmured agreement to
Lucky's version of what had taken place. The
woman gave each one a disdainful glare. 'Am

I free to go now?' she asked the sheriff.

'How'd your lip get busted, ma'am?'

'The gorilla did it,' she said, nodding down
at Little Alvin and corroborating Lucky's
account of her injury.

'What was your business here?'

'You didn't ask what they were doing here,'
she argued, gesturing to the men surrounding
her.

'I know what they were doing here,' Bush
replied. 'Well?'

'I was having a beer,' she answered curtly.

'You didn't lead these men on, did you?
You know, wink, flirt, anything like that?'

She didn't deign to answer, and only stared
at him with open contempt for even
suggesting such a thing. In Pat Bush's
estimation she didn't look like a typical bar
pickup. During his twenty-year tenure as
sheriff he'd broken up enough barroom
brawls to recognize a troublemaking broad
when he saw one.

This one wasn't typical. Her clothing wasn't
provocative. Neither was her demeanor.
Rather than inviting male attention, she put
out vibes that said Do Not Touch and
seemed about as approachable as a lady
porcupine.

More out of curiosity than anything, he
asked, 'You from around here?'

'No, from out of town.'
'Where 'bouts?'
'I was just passing through Milton Point,'
she replied evasively, 'on my way to the
interstate highway.'
Sheriff Bush tipped his hat forward so he
could scratch the back of his head beneath it.
'Well, ma'am, the next time you're just
passing through, find another place to have a
beer, a place more suitable for ladies.'
Lucky made an unflattering snorting
sound, implying that he didn't believe she fit
the distinction.
'I'll take that into consideration, Sheriff.'
She gave Lucky another chilling glare. Then,
slipping the strap of her handbag over her
shoulder, she headed for the door.
'You don't want to press charges for the
busted lip?' Sheriff Bush called after her.
'I only want to get out of here.' Moving
purposefully toward the door, she went out
into the waning twilight without looking
back.
Every eye in the room followed her
departure. 'Ungrateful bitch,' Lucky muttered.
'What's that?' the sheriff asked, leaning
toward Lucky.
'Nothing. Look, I gotta split, too.' A glance
through the dusty window showed her getting

into a red compact car, one of those square,
lookalike foreign numbers.
'Hold your horses, Lucky,' Sheriff Bush
said sternly. 'I warned you last time that if
you got into any more fights -- '
'I didn't start this, Pat.'
Though Pat Bush was acting in an official
capacity, Lucky addressed him like the family
friend he was, one who'd bounced Lucky on
his knee when he was still in diapers. So while
Lucky respected Pat's uniform, he wasn't intimidated by it.
'Who've you going to believe? Me or
them?' he asked, gesturing down to the two
injured men.
The red car was pulling onto the two-lane
highway, its rear wheels sending up a cloud of
dust. Losing his patience, Lucky again
confronted Pat, who kept such a watchful eye
on the Tylers that very few of their escapades
got past him.
He had caught Chase and Lucky pilfering
apples from the A&P supermarket when they
were kids, and turning over portable toilets at
a drilling site one Halloween night, and
throwing up their first bottle of whiskey
beneath the bleachers at the football stadium.
While driving them home, he'd given them a
sound lecture on the evils of drinking
irresponsibly before turning them over to

their daddy for parental 'guidance.' He'd
been a pallbearer at Bud Tyler's funeral two
years before, and had cried as hard as any
bona fide member of the family.
'Am I under arrest or not?' Lucky asked
him now.
'Get on outta here,' the sheriff said gruffly.
'I'll wait here till these skunks come around.'
He nudged Little Alvin and Jack Ed with the
toe of his lizard boot. 'Do something smart
for a change, and stay outta their way for a
day or two.'
'Sure thing.'
'And you'd better let your mama take a
look at that cut.'
'It's fine.'
In a hurry, Lucky tossed a five-dollar bill
on the bar to cover the cost of his drinks and
dashed out the door. He had noted that the
red car had turned west onto the highway and
remembered the woman saying she was
headed for the interstate, which was several
miles away. He vaulted into his vintage model
Mustang convertible and took out after her in
hot pursuit.
Miss Prissy wasn't going to get away with
brushing him off like that. He'd risked his life
for her. Only good fortune and well-timed
quick-stepping had prevented him from
getting more than the tip of Jack Ed's knife.

His eye was swollen nearly shut now, and his
skull felt as if a drilling bit were going
through it. He would look like hell for days
on account of this ungrateful redheaded
chippy.
Redheaded? He thought back. Yeah, sorta
red. Dark reddish-brown. Auburn.
How was he going to explain his battered
face to his mother and Chase, who just this
morning had stressed to him the importance
of keeping their noses absolutely clean?
Tyler Drilling Company was faced with
bankruptcy unless they could persuade the
bank to let them pay only the interest on their
note and roll over the principal for another
six months at least. Lucky shouldn't be seen
around town sporting a black eye. Who
wanted to extend credit to a brawler?
'Since Daddy died,' Chase had said that
morning, 'everybody's been skeptical that you
and I can run Tyler Drilling as well as he did.'
'Hell, it's not our fault the price of crude
fell drastically and has stayed so damned low.'
It was an argument that didn't need
voicing. The faltering oil market and its
disastrous effect on the Texas economy
weren't of their making, but they were
suffering the consequences just the same. The
equipment Tyler Drilling leased out had been
so inactive over the last several months, they

had joked about storing it in mothballs.
The brothers were frantically trying to
come up with an idea for diversification that
would generate business and income. In the
meantime the bank was becoming less and
less tolerant of any outstanding loans. Though
most of the board members were lifelong
friends, they couldn't afford to be sympathetic
indefinitely when so many banks across
the nation, and particularly in Texas, were
failing.
'The best we can do,' Chase had said, 'is
show them our intent to pay when we can, try
to drum up business, and stay out of trouble.'
'That last remark is aimed at me, I guess.'
Chase had smiled good-naturedly at his
younger brother. 'Now that I'm settled down
with a loving wife, you're the tomcat of the
family. You're expected to sow a few wild
oats.'
'Well, those days might be coming to a
close,' Lucky had remarked unhappily.
His brother, shrewdly picking up on the veiled reference, asked, 'How is Susan?'
Being reminded of her now made Lucky
groan. Or maybe he groaned because, when
he turned the Mustang onto the entrance
ramp of the interstate highway and pushed it
through the forward gears, the cut across his
belly pulled apart again and started to ache.

'Damn that woman,' he cursed as he
floorboarded the convertible in order to close
the distance between him and the winking
taillights he was following.
He wasn't sure what he was going to do
when he actually caught her. Probably
nothing more than demand an apology for
the snooty way she'd treated him after he'd
risked life and limb to protect her from sexual
harassment.
However, thinking back on the contemptuous
way she'd looked him over, as if he were a
piece of bubble gum stuck to the bottom of
her shoe, he figured an apology wasn't going
to come easily. She didn't seem the simpering
type.
Women. They were his bane and his
delight. Couldn't live with them. Sure as hell
couldn't live without them. He had vowed to
abstain numerous times after particularly
harrowing love affairs, but he knew it was a
vow he'd never keep.
He loved women -- their clothes, their
paraphernalia, their scent. He liked their
giggles and their tears, and, even though it
often drove him to distraction, their persistent
attention to detail. He liked everything about
them that made them different from himself,
from their maddening habit of paying with
change in favor of breaking a bill to the way

their bodies were made. In Lucky's educated
opinion, about the best thing God ever
created was a woman's skin.

But out of bed they were a royal pain.

Take that young divorcee in Marshall, for
instance. She was a complainer, and could
whine until the sound of her voice was as
offensive as fingernails on a chalkboard. The
only time she wasn't griping about something
was when they were in bed. There, she
purred.

Another of his most recent liaisons had
been with a gold digger. If he didn't bring her
a gift each time he saw her, any kind of
trinket, she swelled up with affront. Only
hours of loving could coax her back into a
good mood. Then there was the clerk at the
drugstore. In bed she was clever and
innovative. Out of it, she wasn't as smart as
the nearest fence post.

Susan Young was just the opposite. She was
smart. Maybe too smart. He suspected that
she was withholding sexual favors not
because of any moral scruples, but because
she wanted him standing at the altar all
dressed up in a tuxedo and watching her as
she glided down the aisle of First Methodist
Church in a long white gown to the tempo of
the wedding march from Lohengrin.

After his discouraging meeting with Chase

that morning, Lucky had kept his lunch date
with Susan at the home she shared with her
parents. Her father, George, was CEO of the
bank that held Tyler Drilling's note. They
lived in an impressive home on one-and a-half
perfectly manicured acres in the center of
town. As soon as the maid had cleared away
the dishes, George had returned to the bank
and Mrs. Young had excused herself to go
upstairs, leaving Lucky alone with Susan.
He had pulled her into his arms and kissed
her. Smacking his lips when they pulled
apart, he sighed. 'Better than Clara's
strawberry shortcake,' he said, referring to the
sumptuous dessert the housekeeper had
served.
'Sometimes I think all you want from me is
kisses.'
His eyes moved over her, taking in her
affected pout and the small, impudent breasts
that jutted against her blouse. He covered one
with his hand. 'That's not all I want.'
Susan squirmed away from him. 'Lucky
Tyler, will you behave? My mama's upstairs,
and Clara's in the kitchen.'
'Then let's go someplace else,' he suggested
on a burst of inspiration. Their house was
formal and somber and unpleasantly
reminded him of a funeral home, which put a
damper on romance. In that environment it

was little wonder Susan was holding out. 'I've
got to drive over toward Henderson this
afternoon and see a man on business. Why
don't you come along?'
She declined with an adamant shake of her
head. 'You drive too fast. With the top down,
my hair gets blown all over the place.'
'Honey, with what I have in mind, it'll get
messed up anyway,' he drawled, pulling her
against him again. This time she participated
more actively in their kiss. By the time they
came up for air, Lucky was hot and ready.
Then Susan had ruined his arousal by
mentioning her father.
'Promise not to get mad if I tell you
something.' Experience had taught him that
those words usually prefaced something that
was going to make him mad, but he gave her
his promise anyway. She didn't meet his eyes
as she played with the buttons on his shirt.
'Daddy's worried about me spending so
much time with you.'
'Why's that? He seemed polite enough at
lunch.'
'He's always polite. But he's still not
thrilled about our going out lately.'
'Why not?'
'You do have a reputation, you know. A
reputation that nice girls like me aren't even
supposed to know about.'

'Oh yeah?' She wasn't so nice that she
balked when his hand ventured beneath her
full skirt and stroked the back of her thigh.
'He asked me what your intentions were,
and I had to tell him that I honestly don't
know.'
He was already bored with the topic of
George Young and entranced by the expanse
of smooth thigh he was caressing, but the
word 'intentions' set off alarms inside his
head. He withdrew his hand and took several
steps away from her. While she had his
undivided attention, she drove home her
point.
'Of course, Daddy never discusses his
banking business with me,' she said with a
calculated batting of eyelashes, 'but I get the
distinct impression that he's afraid to extend
a loan to a man who isn't settled down. You
know, married and all.'
Lucky hastily consulted his wristwatch.
'Gee, it's getting late. If I can't talk you into
going with me, I need to get on the road.
Don't want to miss that appointment.' He
headed for the door.
'Lucky?'
'Hmm?'
Moving to face him and looping her arms
around the back of his neck, she arched the
front of her body against his. She came up on

tiptoe and placed her lips near his ear,
whispering, 'Daddy would almost have to
extend your loan if you were family, wouldn't
he?'
He had given her a sick smile and beat a
quick retreat, after promising to join them for
dinner that evening at seven-thirty. He wasn't
ready to get married. Not to Susan. Not to
anybody. Not by a long shot.
He liked Susan well enough. He wanted to
get her into bed, but mainly because he
hadn't yet managed to. She was spoiled and
would be hell to live with. Besides, he
strongly suspected that she wouldn't be all
that great a lover. He believed that for her,
sex would be a form of currency, not
pleasure.
He liked his women willing, active, and
enjoying the tumble as much as he did.
Damned if he wanted a wife who swapped
him favor for favor, or one who withheld
bedroom privileges until she got her way.
No, he hoped Susan Young wasn't holding
her breath until he got down on bended knee
and asked for her hand in marriage. She
would turn blue in the face before that ever
happened.
And as soon as he could get to a phone, he
would need to call and cancel their dinner
date. She would be upset, but he sure as hell

couldn't show up at the Youngs' dinner table
with his face looking the way it did.
'Women,' he muttered with disgust as he
took the exit ramp behind the saucy red
compact.

Lucky pulled into the paved parking lot about
ninety seconds behind the woman. The
roadside complex comprised a U-shaped,
two-story motel, a restaurant boasting the
best chicken-fried steak in the state -- which
he seriously doubted -- a gas station with
dozens of pumps, and a combination liquor
and convenience store.
She had gone into the restaurant. Through
the plate-glass window Lucky watched a
waitress show her to a table. In a short while
she was brought what appeared to be a club
sandwich. How could she think of food? He
felt like hell. Eating was out of the question.
Easing himself out of his car and keeping
away from the window so she wouldn't see
him, he limped toward the convenience store.
'What happened to you, buddy? Get hit by
a Mack truck?'
'Something like that,' Lucky replied to the
cheerful clerk who rang up his purchases. He
bought a pint bottle of whiskey, a tin of
aspirin, and a raw steak. Because the gray
meat was turning green around the edges, it
had been marked down. It was unfit for

human consumption, but that wasn't what he
had in mind anyway.
'Does the other guy look better or worse?'
the curious clerk asked.
Lucky gave him a lopsided grin. 'He looks
okay, but he feels a hell of a lot worse.'
Returning to his car, he slumped in the
white leather seat behind the wheel,
uncapped the bottle, and washed down three
aspirins with his first swig of whiskey. He had
just unwrapped the smelly steak when he saw
the woman emerge from the restaurant.
Because he had been anticipating how good it
was going to feel to place the cool meat on his
throbbing eye, he was cursing beneath his
breath when he reached for the car door
handle, prepared to open it.
He paused, however, when she walked
down the sidewalk and entered the check-in
office of the motel. Within a few minutes she
came out with a room key.
Lucky waited until she had backed out and
driven her car around the corner before
following her. He rounded the building just in
time to see her entering a room on the
ground floor about midway along the west
wing of the motel.
Things were looking up, he thought with
satisfaction as he pulled his Mustang into a
parking slot. He preferred their confrontation

to be private. That was why he hadn't
followed her into the restaurant. Unwittingly
she was playing right into his hands.
Pocketing his car keys in his jeans, and
taking the steak, aspirin, and whiskey with
him, he sauntered toward the door she had
just closed behind her and knocked.
He could envision her pausing in whatever
she was doing and looking curiously at the
door before moving toward it cautiously. He
grinned into the peephole. 'You might just as
well open the door. I know you recognize me.'
The door was jerked open. She looked as
volatile as a rocket about to launch. 'What are
you doing here?'
'Well,' he drawled, 'I was following you,
and this is where you ended up, so here I am.'
'Why were you following me?'
'Because you've got something I want.'
At first taken aback, she then regarded him
closely. Her wariness was immensely satisfying.
She wasn't as tough as she wanted
everybody to think. Still, her voice was
haughty enough when she asked, 'And what
might that be?'
'An apology. Can I come in?'
Again his answer threw her off guard, so
she didn't initially react when he moved
toward the door. However, when his foot
stepped on the threshold, she braced a hand

against his chest. 'No! You cannot come in.
Do you think I'm crazy?'
'Could be. Why else would you come into
the place all by yourself?'
'What place?'
He glanced down at her hand splayed
across his sternum.
She hastily dropped it.
'The place. The bar where I courageously
defended your honor this afternoon.'
'My honor didn't need defending.'
'It would have if Little Alvin had got his
slimy paws on you.'
'That weaselly little man?'
'No, that's Jack Ed. Jack Ed Patterson.
Little Alvin is the one you called a gorilla.
See, they call him Little Alvin because -- '
'This is all very interesting, but I just want
to forget it. Rest assured that there wasn't a
snowball's chance in hell of them getting their
'slimy paws' on me. I had the situation under
control.'
'Is that right?' he asked, giving her a smile
that said he didn't believe her for a minute,
but he admired her spunk.
'That's right. Now, if you'll please
excuse -- '
'Uh-uh.' He flattened his hand against the
door she was about to shut in his face. 'I
don't have my apology yet.'

'All right,' she said irritably, shoving back a
handful of auburn hair he wouldn't mind
having a handful of himself. 'I apologize for
. . . for . . . '
'For not thanking me properly for rescuing
you.'
Gritting her teeth, she emphasized each
word. 'For not thanking you properly for
rescuing me.'
Propping his shoulder against the doorjamb,
he squinted at her. 'Wonder how come
I don't think you really mean that?'
'Oh, I do. I truly do. From the bottom of
my little ol' heart.' Resting her right hand on
the left side of her chest, she fluttered her
eyelashes as she made a pledge. 'If I ever get
hit on in a bar again, you'll be the first one I
call to defend me. I'll even recommend you
to my fragile, feminine friends. How's that for
gratitude?'
Ignoring her sarcasm, he raised his hand
and touched the corner of her mouth with the
tip of his index finger. 'Your lip is bleeding
again.'
Turning her back on him, she rushed into
the room and bent over the dresser top to
check her reflection in the mirror. 'It is not!'
When she turned back around, Lucky was
standing inside the closed door with his back
to it, grinning like a hungry alley cat who'd

just spotted a trapped mouse.
She drew herself up straight and said in an
overly calm voice, 'You don't want to do this.
I'm warning you that I'm capable of
defending myself. I'll raise such a hue and
cry, I'll bring this building down. I know how
to use physical force. I'll -- '
Lucky started laughing. 'What did you
think I had in mind, ravishing you? All I want
to do is hear a sincere apology from you, then
I'll be on my way. In the meantime I'm going
to borrow your bed for a minute.'
Setting the whiskey, aspirin, and packaged
steak on the nightstand, he hopped on one
foot while pulling off his boot, then got rid of
the other one the same way. He stretched out
on the bed and piled both pillows against the
headboard, sighing with relief as his head
sank into them.
'If you don't get out of here this instant,'
she shouted angrily, 'I'll call the management!
I'll call the police!'
'Will you quiet down, please? My head's
pounding. And whatever happened to all that
self-defense you were threatening me with?'
Removing the steak from its Styrofoam tray,
he laid it against his battered eye. 'If you'll
bring the glasses over, I'll share my whiskey
with you.'
'I don't want any of your whiskey!'

'Fine. But could you please bring me a
glass?'

'All right, if you won't leave, I will.'

She marched toward the door and yanked
it open. A jangling sound brought her head
around. Her car keys were dangling from the
end of Lucky's finger. 'Not yet, Miss . . . uh,
what's your name?'

'Go to hell!' she yelled, slamming the door
closed again.

'Hmm. Named after your mother or
father?'

'Give me my keys.' She thrust out her
hand.

'Not until you apologize. While I'm
waiting, how about that glass?' He nodded
toward the dresser where an ice bucket and
two glasses were wrapped in sterile paper.

'If you want a glass, you can get it
yourself.'

'Okay.' He sighed. But when he tried to sit
up, the skin across his stomach stretched and
the knife wound reopened. Wincing, he fell
back onto the pillows. When his hand came
away from reflexively touching the area, it was
stained with fresh blood.

She gave a soft cry and quickly moved to
the side of the bed. 'You really are hurt.'

'Did you think I was faking it?' Lucky was
smiling, but his lips were pale and taut. 'And

I rarely go around in a shirt that's been sliced
to ribbons.'

'I ... I didn't think . . . ' she foundered.
'Shouldn't you go to the hospital?'

'It'll be okay once it closes and stays
closed.'

Bending over him, she raised the hem of
his ripped shirt. The extent of the cut made
her gasp. It wasn't deep, but it arced from
beneath his left breast to the waistband of his
jeans on his right side. In places his tawny
body hair was clotted with dried blood. The
thin red line was seeping.

'This might get infected if it's not seen to.'
The resolution on her face barely had time to
register with him before she said, 'Better take
off your shirt.'

He hesitated, because in order to remove
his shirt, he'd have to set aside her keys. She
sensed the reason for his hesitation and said
with asperity, 'I wouldn't desert a man who is
broken and bleeding.'

Lucky dropped her keys on the nightstand,
undid his shirt buttons, and eased up far
enough to pull the fabric off his wide
shoulders. She assisted him, negligently
tossing the tattered garment to the floor and
focusing only on his wound. 'That wretched
little man,' she said, shuddering.

'Jack Ed? Yeah, he's a real scumbag. I'm

relieved to know your flirtation with him
wasn't anything serious.'
'I wasn't flirting, and you know it,' she said
crossly. Leaving the bed, she went into the
adjoining bathroom. A moment later she was
back with a washcloth soaked in warm water.
Nudging his hip with hers, she sat down on
the bed beside him and applied the cloth to
the cut. He sucked in a sharp breath.
'Does it hurt?' she asked in a gentle tone.
'Dumb question.'
'I'm sorry, but it really should be cleaned.
Lord only knows where that knife has been.'
'I wouldn't even want to hazard a guess.'
Before, he had been too angry at her to
concede what a looker she was. Now he did.
She wore her dark auburn hair shoulder
length and loose, and probably tried to
control its natural tendency to wave. Green
eyes were now surveying his wound sympathetically,
but he knew firsthand those eyes
could be as frigid as a brass doorknob in
January.
Her lean face had well-defined cheekbones,
but a mouth with a soft, full lower lip. As a
connoisseur, with vast experience of lips, he
recognized them right off as extremely
kissable. Her plush lower lip was a dead
giveaway that this was a woman with a
sensual nature.

That was probably something else she tried
to control. She certainly tried repressing it
with tailored clothing that didn't quite
conceal a noteworthy figure. Not voluptuous.
Not model-skinny either. Somewhere in
between. Slender but curved. Spectacular
legs. He couldn't wait to see her out of her
suit jacket, with nothing covering her breasts
except the silk blouse she was wearing
beneath the jacket.
First things first, however. He was assured
of success, but this woman was going to be an
exciting challenge, something rare that didn't
come along every day. Hell, he'd never had
anybody exactly like her. Rules of the game
might have to be adjusted as he went along.
'What's your name?'
She raised deep forest-green eyes to his.
'DD-Dovey.'
' 'DD-Dovey'?'
'That's right,' she snapped defensively.
'What's wrong with it?'
'Nothing. I just hadn't noticed you
stuttering before. Or has the sight of my bare
chest made you develop a speech impediment?'
He suddenly wanted her face nuzzling
in his chest hair. Badly.
'Hardly, Mr. -- ?'
'Lucky.'
'Mr. Lucky?'

'No, I'm Lucky.'
'Why is that?'
'I mean my name is Lucky. Lucky Tyler.'
'Oh. Well, I assure you the sight of your
bare chest leaves me cold, Mr. Tyler.'
He didn't believe her, and the smile that
tilted up one corner of his mouth said so.
'Call me Lucky.'
She reached for the bottle of whiskey on
the nightstand and raised it in salute. 'Well,
Lucky, your luck just ran out.'
'Huh?'
'Hold your breath.' Before he could draw a
sufficient one, she tipped the bottle and
drizzled the liquor over the cut.
He blasted the four walls with words unfit
to be spoken aloud, much less shouted. 'Oh
God, oh hell, oh -- '
'Your language isn't becoming to a
gentleman, Mr. Tyler.'
'I'm gonna murder you. Stop pouring that
stuff--Agh!'
'You're acting like a big baby.'
'What the hell are you trying to do, scald
me?'
'Kill the germs.'
'Damn! It's killing me. Do something.
Blow on it.'
'That only causes germs to spread.'
'Blow on it!'

She bent her head over his middle and
blew gently along the cut. Her breath fanned
his skin and cooled the stinging whiskey in
the open wound. Droplets of it had collected
in the satiny stripe of hair beneath his navel.
Rivulets trickled beneath the waistband of his
jeans. She blotted at them with her fingertips;
then, without thinking, licked the liquor off
her own skin. When she realized what she'd
done, she sprang upright. 'Better now?' she
asked huskily.
When Lucky's blue eyes connected with
hers, it was like completing an electric circuit.
The atmosphere crackled. Matching her
husky tone of voice, he said, 'Yeah, much
better. But warn me next time, okay?'
'I think that'll be enough to prevent any
infection.'
'I'd rather have risked infection. Although,'
he added in a low voice, 'having you blow on
me was worth it.'
Because that flustered her, she raised her
militant shield again. 'Your eye looks terrible.'
The steak was now lying on the pillow where
it had tumbled when she surprised him with
her whiskey disinfectant. She picked it up by
her thumb and index finger, holding it at
arm's length. 'This thing stinks to high
heaven.' Returning it to the Styrofoam tray,
she rewrapped it in its plastic covering and

tossed it into the trash can. 'Stay where you
are. I'll go get some ice.'
Taking the plastic bucket with her, she left
the room. Lucky liked the rear view of her
too. Nice calves, nice bottom. If he didn't feel
so bad .
But he did. During the fight, a rush of
adrenaline had prevented him from feeling
every punch. Now he was beginning to bruise
in places he didn't even remember getting
struck. His head was throbbing. He was
feeling woozy, too, probably from the
combination of the aspirin and that last shot
of whiskey.
So while the thought of thawing Dovey was
enthralling, he had to be content to fantasize.
He certainly wasn't in any physical condition
to take it further.
She returned with a bucket of ice, and
filled the center of another washcloth with a
scoop of small cubes. Knotting the corners
over it, she brought it back to the bed and
gently laid the makeshift ice pack on his eye.
'Thanks,' he mumbled sleepily, realizing
that he might be a little drunk as well as hurt.
Her hand felt so comforting and cool, the
way his mother's always had whenever he was
sick with fever. He captured Dovey's hand
with his and pressed it against his hot cheek.
She withdrew it and, in a schoolmarm's

voice, said, 'You can stay only until the
swelling goes down.'
A crude comeback sprang into his mind,
but he resisted saying it. She wouldn't
appreciate the bawdy comment right now.
Besides, a reference to another swollen
member of his body might be the very thing
that would cause her to kick him out.
'I don't think I'll be going anywhere a-tall
tonight,' he said. 'I feel like hell. This is all I
want to do. Lie here. Real still and quiet.'
'Good idea. You can have this room. I'll get
another one.'
'No!' he cried, dislodging his ice pack. 'I
mean, I can't take your room.'
'Don't worry about it. It's paid for. It's the
least I can do after what you did for me this
afternoon.'
'I'm not worried about finances,' he said
sharply. 'But at least now you're admitting
that I rescued you from Little Alvin and Jack
Ed.'
'Just so you could put in your bid for me?'
'Huh?'
'You 'rescued' me from them, but you're no
better. Your technique simply has more
polish.'
'You think . . . think . . . ' he stammered.
'You think I want to share this room so
-- Come on, lady. Do I look like I'm in any

condition to have sex?'
He followed her gaze down the length of
his body and realized that he did look as if he
could have sex. He was shirtless, bootless,
and sprawled in the center of a motel bed. His
recent vivid fantasies had created a bulge behind
his fly that he hoped she wouldn't notice.
Immediately he fell back against the pillows
with a great moan, not entirely faked, and
replaced the ice pack against his eye. Waving
his hand weakly, he said, 'Go on. Do
whatever you want. I'll be okay.'
He watched through slitted eyes as she
picked up her purse and headed for the door.
'All my injuries are probably external,' he
mumbled just as she placed her hand on the
doorknob.
She turned. 'You think you might have
internal injuries?'
'How the hell do I know? I'm no doctor.'
He placed a tentative hand on his side. 'I
thought I felt some swelling here, but it's
probably nothing. Don't let me hold you up
any longer.'
Putting aside her handbag, she returned to
the bed and gingerly sat down on the edge of
the mattress. It was difficult for Lucky to look
pained rather than give in to a complacent
smile. He expected her to murmur sympathetically.
Instead, she said nothing.

When he turned his good eye to her, she
was staring down at him skeptically. 'If you're
conning me -- '
'I told you to leave. Go on. Get another
room. If I need you, I can call you through
the motel operator.'
She pulled her full lower lip through her
teeth several times, which caused Lucky to
groan for an entirely different reason. 'Where
do you feel the swelling?'
She had missed her calling. She could have
been a great vaudevillian straight man. She
was feeding him cues to which he had terrific
punch lines. Again resisting the impulse to
say aloud what he was thinking, he took her
hand and guided it to his side.
'Around here somewhere. Feel anything
out of the ordinary?'
She probed the taut skin for several
moments, working her fingers up and down
his side from waist to armpit. 'No. I don't
think so.'
'That's a relief.' She withdrew her hand. 'I
just hope no ribs are broken,' he said hastily.
'Which side?'
'Same one.'
Her fingers walked up his ribs cautiously,
gradually feeling their way, until they reached
the hairmatted, curved muscle of his chest. It
might have been the feel of his chest or of his

r
hand back quickly. ;
'You're probably just stiff and sore, she
said.
You can say that again, Dovey. Good.
'But maybe I'd better not leave you alone,
she surprised him by saying.
'Oh gee, that's terrific'
'I wouldn't want your death by internal
bleeding on my conscience the rest of my
life.'
He frowned, saying drolly, 'I wouldn't be
crazy about that either.' Removing the
dripping ice pack from his eye, he handed it
to her 'I'm drowning from this thing.'
She took it away, and a few minutes later
brought him a replacement. 'Maybe by the
time this one soaks through, your eye won't hurt so bad.'
'Maybe. Could I please have a glass now? I
think I'm entitled to a drink.'
She poured each of them one. He tossed
his back. It made him cough, but the liquor
spread an anesthetizing heat through his
midsection that made his discomfort more

Dovey went into the bathroom to add
water to her cup, then dropped in a couple of
ice cubes and sipped the drink like a lady. He
remembered the glass she'd poured her beer

into. Classy broad, he concluded muzzily. Not
pretty in the soft, cushy, baby-doll sense, but
certainly striking. She would turn heads on
any sidewalk in the world.
Through a mist of pain and booze, he
watched her remove her jacket and drape it
over the back of a chair. Just as he'd thought
-- high, round breasts.
Oh yes, quite a looker was Dovey. But that
wasn't all. She looked like a woman who
knew her own mind and wasn't afraid to
speak it. Levelheaded.
So what the hell had she been doing in the
place?
He drifted off while puzzling through the
question.

The room was in total darkness when Lucky
awakened. He tentatively opened one eye,
after trying to open both reminded him that
his right one would be black-and-blue and
swollen shut for a day or two.
There was artificial light coming from the
parking lot through the crack between the
drape and the wall. It was still night, but he
didn't care enough about the time to try to
check his wristwatch.
His muscles were cramped from lying in
one position for so long. He stretched,
wincing and moaning slightly, and attempted
to turn onto his side. When he did, his knee
bumped into another.
He mumbled, 'Dovey?'
'Him?'
He often awakened in the middle of the
night with a woman in bed with him, so he
responded as he usually did, by curving his
arm across her and pulling her closer. Their
knees automatically straightened, bringing
their bodies together. Her hair brushed his
cheek, and he turned his face into it, inhaling
its honeysuckle scent and mindlessly kissing

the strands that fell across his lips.
That felt so good, so right, he pressed his
lips against her smooth forehead, then let
them trail over her brows to her eyelids. Her
lashes feathered his lips. He kissed her
cheekbone, her nose, then her mouth.
Reflexively she drew back. 'Lucky?' she
whispered.
'Yes, baby,' he whispered back before
seeking her mouth again.
Her lips separated slowly. His tongue
slipped between them. The inside of her
mouth was delicious, but unfamiliar. He
didn't remember ever kissing her. He
explored deeply, leisurely, thoroughly, before
biting gently on her lower lip -- that he
remembered craving to do -- and sucking it
into his mouth.
Making a small sound, she stirred against
him restlessly. Her hands landed softly on his
bare chest. As his tongue glided across her
lower lip, he felt her fingers combing through
his chest hair and her nails gently raking his
skin. It struck him as odd that all her
responses were so tinged with shyness. Then
her fingertips glazed his turgid nipple, and his
analysis ended. He had no thoughts beyond
the taste and feel of her.
Rolling partially atop her, he lowered his
hand to her breast, but became confused

when he encountered clothing. It was silk,
true, but what was she doing in bed with
clothes on? It suddenly occurred to him that
he was still wearing his jeans. No wonder he
was so uncomfortable.
Befuddled, he reached for the top button of
his fly. When it and the others were undone,
he eased himself free, sighing with relief. The
pressure had been almost painful.
Using his personal system of radar, his lips
found her neck in the darkness and began
dusting it with kisses as his hand moved to
her breast again. The barriers of buttons and
her brassiere clasp didn't deter him in the
slightest, and soon his hand was filled with
warm, malleable woman flesh.
Now we're back on track, he thought.
Everything was as it should be. Her breast
was full and soft as his hand gently reshaped
it. When he drew his thumb across the tip, it
responded as he expected, becoming tight
and hard. He sandwiched it between two of
his fingers, enjoying the small wanting sounds
that issued from her throat each time he
applied the merest pressure to her nipple.
Eventually he took it into his mouth. His
tongue circled and stroked and teased until
her hands were clutching at his shoulders and
his own body was burning like a furnace.
'Sweet, sweet,' he whispered as he moved

aside her garments and hungrily kissed her
other breast. 'So sweet.'
Hose. Pantyhose, he thought miserably
when his hand slipped beneath her skirt to
caress her knee. He despised the things, and
wished he had five minutes alone with the
sadist who had invented them.
Moments later, however, he was delighted
when his stroking hand discovered satiny
smooth skin above her stockings. Apparently
she was delighted, too, because at the touch
of his hand against her inner bare thighs, her
back arched off the bed and she released a
staggering sigh of pleasure . . . and mounting
need.
He tracked the lacy suspenders up to the V
of her thighs. Inside her panties there were
myriad textures to explore and fluid heat to
drown in -- he wanted badly to taste her. But
he didn't have the time. His body was
compelling him to hurry.
Had he ever had this woman before? No.
He couldn't have. Otherwise he wouldn't be
experiencing the contradictory urges to hurry
and to loiter. He resented the time it took to
fumble in his pocket for the foil-wrapped
prophylactic and slip it on. The same desire
that compelled him to position himself in the
cradle of her thighs was prompting him to
wait.

But he was already there, hard and hot and
pressing toward sweet deliverance. And she
was moist and soft and snug and sweet.
He heard himself say hoarsely, 'I'm sorry.
I'm sorry,' but he wasn't even sure why.
All he was sure of was that he could never
get enough of this woman. He gathered her
beneath him, stroked her expertly, then
buried himself deep within the sheath of her
body. He wanted to sustain the pleasure, but
it was so immense, he was helpless to stop the
climax that claimed him, shook him, drained
him.
It left him depleted. Totally spent, he laid
his head on her breasts, making kissing
motions against her nipples with his lips and
lightly grinding his stubble-rough cheek
against the soft mounds. Tenderly he palmed
the nest of damp curls at the top of her
thighs.
She touched his hair. Feeling the caress, he
smiled. Then he drifted off to sleep again,
wondering why, since it had been so damned
good, he'd never made love to her before.

No matter how much Lucky drank the night
before or how late he caroused, he always
woke up at daybreak. His father had had

chores for Chase and him to do before
school. The habit of waking up early had been
ingrained in him.
When he first became conscious, his head
felt like a bowling ball stuffed with cotton,
which might roll off his shoulders at any
moment. It was an effort just to open his one
functioning eye. Nevertheless, when he saw
through the slit that he was alone in the bed,
it came fully open. Stretching out his hand,
he touched the imprint her body had left.
Grunting and groaning from the whipping
he'd taken from Little Alvin, he sat up,
switched on the nightstand lamp, and
groggily surveyed the room. No suit jacket.
No keys. No purse. No sign that she'd ever
been there.
Maybe she'd just gone out for coffee.
He swung his feet to the floor, swearing
liberally as pain rocketed up through the soles
of his feet straight to the crown of his head.
Dizzily he stood up and hobbled toward the
window. With as dramatic a flourish as his
battered body would allow, he flung back the
drapes, startling a middle-aged couple walking
down the breezeway.
The woman uttered an astonished gasp and
hastily averted her eyes from Lucky's
semi-nudity. Her husband gave him a
reproving look before taking his offended

wife's elbow and ushering her toward their
camper parked at the curb.
Lucky automatically began rebuttoning his
jeans while staring hard at the empty space
where Dovey's red car had been parked the
evening before.
'Damn!'
She had made a clean getaway. Sneaked
out like a thief. That thought sent his hand
plunging into his jeans pockets for his money
clip. He found it intact.
She had been here, hadn't she? She wasn't
just a figment of his imagination? No, of
course not. He couldn't have imagined eyes
that unusual shade of green. If he had
dreamed her, it had been one hell of a dream.
One he wished he could have every night and
never wake up from.
He limped into the bathroom and switched
on the unkind, unflattering fluorescent light.
The image the mirror over the basin threw
back at him belonged in a monster movie.
Not only was his hair a mess and his lower
jaw dark with stubble, but, as predicted, his
eye was black-and-blue and swollen almost
shut. There was a bruise as big as a baseball
on his shoulder, probably where he had
gouged Little Alvin's middle. The cut across
his belly had closed, but was still a bright red
line.

Then something incongruent caught his
eye, something reflecting the blue-white glare
of the fluorescent tube. He pulled a long,
dark red strand of hair off his chest. It had
become ensnared in his chest hair. Spurred
on by that discovery, he returned to the
bedroom and checked the wastepaper basket.
He found what he was looking for.
Sinking down onto the bed, he held his
aching head between both hands. She'd been
real, all right. He hadn't imagined her. Nor
had their lovemaking been a dream, except in
the metaphorical sense.
Unsure whether that made him feel better
or worse, he returned to the bathroom and
showered. As soon as he was dressed, he left
the room and got into his Mustang. He'd
been negligent to leave it uncovered and
unlocked all night, but thankfully it hadn't
been vandalized. He drove it around the
building to the office and went in to speak to
the motel clerk -- not the same one who had
been there the evening before.
'Mornin'.' His smile was almost as big as
his ears. 'Have some coffee.'
'Good morning. Thanks.' Lucky poured
himself a cup from the pot brewing on a hot
plate. 'My name's Lucky Tyler. I spent last
night in room one ten. The room was
registered to a young woman.'

'Yeah?' The clerk propped his elbows on
the counter and leaned forward eagerly.
'Yeah. Would you please check your register
for her name?'
'You don't know it?'
'Dovey something.'
'Must've been some night. She do that to
you?' He nodded toward Lucky's black eye
and torn shirt.
'What's her name?' Lucky's tone of voice
prohibited further speculation or comment.
The clerk wisely checked his files. 'Smith,
Mary.'
'Mary?'
'Mary.'
'Mary Smith?'
'That's right.'
'Address?'
'Two hundred three Main Street.'
'City?'
'Dallas.'
'Dallas?'
'Dallas.'
'Two hundred three Main Street, Dallas,
Texas?'
'That's what it says.'
Lucky was familiar enough with the city to
know that the two-hundred block of Main
Street was downtown in the heart of the
commercial district. He suspected Ms. Smith

of duplicity. And Smith! Mary Smith, for
crying out loud. Not even very original.
Where had 'Dovey' come from?
'Did she give a phone number?'
'Nope.'
'Car tag?'
'Nope.'
'Which credit card did she use?'
'Says here she paid with cash.'
Lucky swore. 'Driver's license number?'
'Nope.'
'Great.'
'Sounds to me like the lady was covering
her tracks.'
'Sounds that way to me too,' Lucky
mumbled, his mind on where and how he
might pick up her trail. 'When a guest pays
with cash, isn't it procedure to get some form
of identification?'
'It's procedure, but, you know,' the clerk
said, shrugging, 'we don't always do it. I
mean, people traveling together get the hots,
check in for a quickie, things like that. Most
times they don't even stay overnight.'
Knowing the clerk was right, Lucky
combed back his hair with his fingers. He'd
washed it with bar soap, and it was drying in
a helter-skelter fashion. 'What times does the
other guy come on duty? The one who works
this desk on the evening shift.'

'Four.'
Lucky tossed his empty disposable coffee
cup into the wastepaper basket and ambled
toward the door. 'Thanks.'
'You bet. Come again,' the clerk called
cheerfully.
Lucky shot him a withering look before he
went out into the bright, new East Texas
sunlight that was just breaking over the tips of
the tall pine trees and spearing through his
eyeballs straight into the back of his skull.
He slipped on the sunglasses he'd left on
his dashboard the day before and pointed the
Mustang toward home. He would start
tracing her at the place later this afternoon.
Not only did she owe him an apology, but
now he was due an explanation as well. In the
meantime he couldn't devote the whole day
to tracking her. Even though there wasn't
much work to do, he and Chase felt better
about business if they looked and acted busy.
The drive home would normally have taken
an hour, but Lucky was anxious for more
coffee and some breakfast, since he hadn't
eaten the evening before. He floorboarded the
Mustang, and in a little over thirty-five
minutes was turning off the farm-to-market
road into the lane leading to his family's
home.
The narrow blacktop road was lined with

pecan trees. In summer, when they were in
full leaf, their branches formed a thick green
canopy over the road that sunlight could
barely penetrate. The only time he didn't
appreciate the trees was in the fall, when his
mother sent him out to pick up the crop of
nuts that covered the ground. Still, the effort
became worth it when the pecans showed up
in homemade fudge and pies.
They raised only enough cattle to keep
them in fresh beef, and stabled a few riding
horses. Sage had spoiled them and turned
them into pets, and they offered little
challenge to hellbent riders like Chase and
Lucky. As he sped past, Lucky honked at the
small herd grazing on the thick grass that
grew on the acreage surrounding the house.
The two-story structure was built of
painted white brick, and had black shutters
on the windows opening onto the deep front
porch. His father had built the house when he
and Chase were youngsters, but Lucky never
remembered living anywhere else. When Sage
came along, quite unexpectedly, another
three rooms had been added on to the back
side to accommodate the Tylers' growing
family.
It was a handsome house, and homey.
Lucky knew the day would come when he
would marry and move out as his brother had

two years earlier, but he dreaded thinking
about it. This was home. His fondest
memories were directly connected to this
house.
He knew every nook and cranny of it. He
knew which stairs creaked when someone
stepped on them. His initials were carved on
every peach tree in the orchard. He'd smoked
so much of the grapevine that grew along the
fence, it was a wonder there was any of it left.
He could almost recall each individual
Christmas, and one particular Easter stood
out in his memory because he and Chase had
replaced the hard-boiled eggs his mother had
dyed for Sage's Easter basket with raw ones,
and had got a spanking for ruining her day.
'Oh hell.'
This morning he was none to happy to see
Chase's car parked in the curved drive in
front of the house. It was early for him to be
out. Lucky had hoped to give the swelling
around his eye a few hours to go down before
confronting his older brother.
Resigned to the inevitable interrogation,
followed by a lecture about maturity, image,
and responsibility, he parked his Mustang
and loped up the front steps.
Entering the wide, airy foyer, he followed
the smell of fresh coffee toward the kitchen
situated in the southeast corner of the house.

At this time of day the sun bathed the pale
walls with butter-colored light.
'Lucky, is that you?' his mother called
through the rooms.
'None other. What's for breakfast?'
He entered the kitchen and was surprised
to see Tanya, Chase's wife, sitting with him at
the kitchen table. Small and blond, she
perfectly complemented his tall, dark brother.
Lucky liked Tanya immensely, and often
teased her by saying that if she ever got smart
and left his brother, he had first dibs on her.
That would never happen. She was devoted
to Chase, which was one of the main reasons
Lucky liked her so much.
When he walked in, she gave him one of
her sweet smiles, which turned into openmouthed
gaping when he removed his
sunglasses. His smile disfigured his face even
more.
Laurie Tyler, attractive even in middle age,
flattened her hand against her breasts and fell
back a step when she saw Little Alvin
Cagney's handiwork on her son's face.
'Good Lord, Lucky, we heard you'd been
in another fight, but I didn't expect anything
this bad. Did that Cagney brute do that to
you?'
'Yeah, but you ought to see him,' he
quipped as he headed for the coffee maker

and poured himself a cup.
'Where the hell have you been?'
Lucky blew on his coffee and looked at his
brother through the rising steam. 'Are you in
another lousy mood today? It's not even time
for me to be at work yet, and already you're
on my case.'
'Lucky, something's happened,' Laurie
said, laying a hand on his arm. Her eyes were
a similar shade of blue, and almost as bright
and youthful as her son's. Now, however, they
were clouded with concern.
'Happened?'
Just then Sage came barreling through the
back door. Here lately, Lucky was startled
every time he saw his kid sister. She wasn't a
kid any longer. Only a few weeks earlier
they'd attended her graduation from the local
junior college. Next fall she would be
studying at the University of Texas in Austin.
She no longer looked like an adolescent. She
was a woman. And it seemed she'd become
one overnight.
'I was in the stable and saw his car pull in,'
she said breathlessly as though she'd been
running. 'Have you told him yet?'
'Told me what? What the hell is going on?'
'We had a fire last night,' Chase said
grimly.
'A fire?'

'In the main garage.' Chase left his chair
and went to the coffee maker to pour himself
a refill.
'Jeez.' Lucky suddenly felt nauseous. 'I'm
sorry I wasn't available. How bad was it?
Nobody was hurt, I hope.'
'No, nobody was hurt, but the building
burned to the ground. Everything in it was
destroyed.'
Lucky dropped into a chair and dragged
his fingers through his hair again. What Chase
had told him was inconceivable, but the grim
faces surrounding him confirmed that it was
the truth. 'How'd it start? What time did all
this happen? Did they get it put out?'
'The first alarm came in about two-thirty.
They fought the blaze till around four. It's
out now. Hell of a mess though.'
Chase returned to his chair across from his
brother. Once he was seated, Tanya rested her
hand on his thigh in a silent, wifely gesture of
sympathy and support.
'Thank God we've kept up our insurance
premiums,' Lucky remarked. 'As hard as it's
been to rake together the cash for -- ' He
broke off when he intercepted the exchanged
looks that went around the kitchen. 'There's
more?'
Chase sighed and regretfully nodded his
head. Laurie approached Lucky's chair as

though she might, at a moment's notice, have
to render maternal consolation. Tanya stared
down at her hands.
Sage was the one who finally spoke up.
'There's a whole lot more. Who's going to tell
him?'
'Be quiet, Sage.'
'But, Mother, he's got to find out sooner or
later.'
'Sage!'
'You're suspected of setting it, Lucky.'

Lucky's gaze swung toward his brother. 'Did
she say 'setting it'? The fire was set?'
'It was arson. No question.'
'And somebody thinks I set it?' Lucky
snorted incredulously. 'Why in hell would I
do that?'
'For the insurance money.'
Lucky's disbelieving gaze moved around
the room, lighting briefly on all four faces,
which were watching him closely to gauge his
reaction. 'What is this, April Fool's Day? This
is a joke, right?'
'I wish to hell it was.'
Chase leaned forward and folded his hands
around his coffee mug as though he wanted
to strangle it. His light gray eyes shone
fervently in his strong face. He was as
handsome as his younger brother, but in a
different way. While Lucky had the reckless
nonchalance of a cowboy of a century ago,
Chase had a compelling intensity about
him.
'I couldn't believe Pat would even suggest
such a thing,' he said.
'Pat! Sheriff Pat Bush? Our friend?' Lucky

exclaimed. 'I saw him yesterday evening at
the place.'
'And that was the last anybody saw of you.'
'We heard all about your fight with Little
Alvin and that scummy Patterson character,'
Sage said. 'People said you were fighting over
a woman.'
'Exaggeration. They were moving in on her.
She didn't welcome their advances. All I did
was step in.' He gave them a condensed
version of the altercation. 'You would have
done the same thing, Chase.'
'I don't know,' he remarked dubiously. 'It
would take some kind of woman to get me in
a tussle with those two.'
Lucky sidestepped the reference to Dovey.
'Jack Ed got me with his knife.That's how my
shirt got ripped.'
'He came at you with a knife!'
'Don't worry, Mother, it was nothing. Just
a scratch. See?' He raised his bloodstained
shirt, but the sight of the long, arcing cut
across his middle didn't relieve Laurie.
'Did you have it seen to?'
'In a manner of speaking,' he grumbled,
remembering how badly it had stung when
Dovey poured whiskey along the length of the
cut.
'Who was the woman you fought over?'
Sage asked. Her brothers' escapades with

women had always been a source of
fascination to her. 'What happened to her?'
'Sage, I don't think that's significant,' her
mother said sharply. 'Don't you have
something else to do?'
'Nothing this interesting.'
Lucky was unmindful of their conversation.
He was watching his brother and gleaning
from Chase's somber expression that the
situation wasn't only interesting, but critical.
'Pat can't possibly believe that I started a
fire, especially in one of our own garages,'
Lucky said, shaking his head to deny the
preposterous allegation.
'No, but he warned me that the feds
might.'
'The feds? What the hell have the feds got
to do with it?'
'Interstate commerce. Over fifty thousand
dollars' worth of damage,' Chase said, citing
the criteria. 'A fire at Tyler Drilling qualifies
for an investigation by the Bureau of Alcohol,
Tobacco and Firearms. Pat stuck his neck out
by warning me what to expect. It doesn't look
good, Lucky. We're in hock at the bank. Since
Grandad Tyler started the company, business
has never been as bad as it is now. Each piece
of equipment is insured to the hilt.' He
shrugged. 'To their way of thinking, it smells
to high heaven.'

'But to anybody who knows us, it's crazy.'
'I hope so.'
'Why me?'
'Because you're the family hothead,' Sage
supplied, much to the consternation of
everyone else present.
'So far,' Chase said after directing a stern
frown toward his sister, 'we can't account for
your whereabouts after you left the place last
night, Lucky.'
'And that automatically makes me a
suspect for arson?' he cried.
'It's ridiculous, but that's what we're up
against. We've got no problem if we provide
ironclad alibis. The first thing they asked me
is where I was last night. I was home in bed
with Tanya. She confirmed that.'
'Do you think they believed me?' she asked.
Chase smiled at her. 'You couldn't lie
convincingly if you had to.' He dropped a
light kiss on the tip of her nose. Then, giving
his brother his attention again, he said, 'You
didn't spend the night at home. They're going
to ask where you were all night.'
Lucky cleared his throat, sat up straighter,
and cast a guilty glance toward his mother.
Sensing his discomfort, she resorted to her
standard cure-all 'Would you like something
to eat?'
'Please, ma'am.' His mother could make

him feel humble and ashamed when no one
else could. She turned toward the stove and
began preparing him a meal of eggs and
bacon.
'Naturally the first person we called this
morning was Susan Young,' Sage informed
him, dropping into a vacant chair at the table.
'Oh terrific,' Lucky mumbled.
'She was mighty p.o.'d when -- '
'Sage,' Laurie said warningly.
'I didn't say it. I just used the initials.'
'It still sounds so unladylike.'
Rolling her eyes, Sage turned back to her
brother. 'Susan wasn't too thrilled to find out
you'd stood her up at dinner to go
tomcatting.'
Lucky muttered a curse, careful to prevent
his mother from hearing it over the sizzling
sound of frying bacon. 'I forgot to call her.'
'Well,' Sage said importantly, twirling a
tawny strand of hair around her finger, 'you'd
better be thinking up a sympathetic story,
because she is steamed.' Pinching her light
brown eyes into narrow slits, she made a
sound like steam escaping the tight lid of a
kettle.
'We have much more to worry about than
Susan's jealousy,' Chase said.
'Besides,' Laurie added, carrying a plate of
food to the table, 'Lucky's affairs are no

concern of yours, young lady.'
Lucky attacked the plate of food. After a
moment he realized that the sound of his fork
scraping across his plate was the only noise in
the kitchen. He raised his head to find them
all staring at him expectantly.
'What?' he asked, lifting his shoulders in a
slight shrug.
'What?' Chase repeated more loudly.
'We're waiting for you to tell us where you
were, so that if the badge-toting guys in the
dark suits and opaque sunglasses come
asking, we'll have something to tell them.'
Lucky glanced back down into his plate.
The food no longer looked appetizing. 'I, uh,
spent the night with a lady.'
Sage snorted as derisively as Lucky had
when Pat Bush had called Dovey that. 'A
lady. Right.'
'What lady?' Chase asked.
'Does it matter?'
'Ordinarily not. This time it does.'
Lucky gnawed on his lower lip. 'Y'all don't
know her.'
'Is she from out of town?'
'Yeah. She was the, uh, the one Little Alvin
was hitting on.'
'You picked up a stranger at the place and
spent the night with her?'
'Well, who are you to get so righteous,

Chase?' Lucky shouted, suddenly angry.
'Before Tanya came along, you weren't above
doing the same damned thing.'
'But not on the night one of our buildings
was torched!' his brother shouted right back.
Tanya intervened. 'Chase, Lucky didn't
know what was going to happen last night.'
'Thanks, Tanya,' Lucky said with an injured
air.
'Oh, Lucky, that's such a foolhardy thing to
do these days.'
'I'm not stupid, Mother. I took the necessary precautions.'
Sage grinned, her eyes twinkling wickedly.
'Aren't you the good Boy Scout. Do they give
merit badges for taking 'the necessary
precautions'?'
'Shut up, brat,' Lucky growled.
Thanks to Tanya, Chase had reined in his
temper. Sparks often flew between the two
brothers, but the grudges lasted no longer
than the temper flare-ups. 'Okay, all you need
to do to clear yourself is get the woman to
vouch for you.'
Lucky scratched his stubble-covered jaw.
'That might be tricky.'
'Why? When she tells the authorities that
you spent all night with her, they can
eliminate you as a suspect and start tracking
down the real arsonist.'

Chase, believing their dilemma had been
resolved, started to stand. Lucky pointed him
back into his chair. 'There's a slight problem
with that, Chase.'
Slowly Chase lowered himself back into his
seat. 'What problem? How slight?'
'I, uh, don't know her name.'

'You don't know her name?'
'No, sir.'
This day would go down in Lucky's private
annals as one of the worst in his life. His head
still felt as though it had a flock of industrious
woodpeckers living in it. His vision was
blurry in the eye that had connected with
Little Alvin's fist. Every muscle in his body
was screaming at the abuse it had taken. He
was suspected of setting a destructive fire to
his place of business. Everybody, including
members of his own family, was treating him
like a leper because he'd spent the night with
a woman he couldn't identify.
And he had thought yesterday was bad.
According to their expressions, neither the
sheriff and his deputies nor the federal
investigators believed him any more than his
family had that morning.
One of the investigators turned to Pat

Bush. 'You didn't get her name at the scene
of the fight?'
Pat harrumphed. 'No. It occurred to me
later that I had failed to, but there didn't
seem any need for it at the time. She wasn't
interested in pressing charges.'
A skeptical 'hmm' was the agent's only
response. He turned to Lucky again. 'Didn't
you think to ask her her name?'
'Sure. She told me it was Dovey, but -- '
'Would you spell that please?' The request
was made by another agent taking notes in a
spiral notebook.
'Spell what?'
'Dovey.'
Lucky blew out a breath of exasperation
and looked toward Pat Bush for assistance.
The sheriffs terse nod merely indicated that
Lucky should go along with the ridiculous
request. Lucky succinctly spelled the name.
'At least I think that's right. She registered at
the motel as Mary Smith of Dallas.' He
snapped his fingers and raised his head
hopefully. 'Listen, the clerk there will
remember me.'
'He does. We already checked.'
Earlier Lucky had provided the investigators
with the name of the motel on the
interstate, located about midway between
Milton Point and Dallas. 'Then why the hell

are you still busy with me? If I've been
cleared, why aren't you out looking for the
guy who burned our building?'
'The clerk could only testily to seeing you
this morning,' the senior agent informed him.
'He didn't see you going into the room last
evening. And even if he had, he couldn't
vouch for your staying there all night without
leaving.'
Lucky glanced at his brother, who was
leaning against a battered army-green metal
filing cabinet in Sheriff Bush's office. Lucky
shook his head as though to say that this was
a lost cause, and he was tired of playing cops
and robbers by their rules.
Meeting the agent's cold stare, he arrogantly
asked, 'Do you have any physical
evidence connecting me with this crime?'
The agent shifted from one wing-tipped
shoe to the other. 'The exact cause of the fire
hasn't yet been ascertained.'
'Do you have anything linking me with that
fire?' Lucky repeated.
Backed against a wall, the agent replied,
'No.'
'Then I'm leaving.' Lucky came out of his
straight chair and headed for the door.
'You'll be under surveillance, so don't even
try to leave town.'
`Go to hell,' Chase told the agent on his

TO

way out, following his brother. 'Lucky, wait
up!' he called as he emerged from the
courthouse a few seconds later. Lucky was
already at the curb in front of the official
building with his hand on the door handle of
his car. He waited for Chase to catch up with
him.
'Can you believe this crap?' he asked,
angrily jutting his chin toward the first-floor
office where the interrogation had taken
place.
'It's crap, but they're serious.'
'You're telling me,' Lucky muttered. 'The
hair on the back of my neck is standing on
end. I had enough of jail the night we got
arrested for knocking down old man Bledsoe's
fence. It was an accident! How the hell were
we supposed to know his thoroughbred mare
was in that pasture? Or that she was in season?'
Chase peered up at his brother from
beneath his heavy brows, and, together, they
started laughing. 'He went nuts when that
jackass raced in there and mounted her.
Remember how he was jumping up and down
and yelling? Never laughed so hard in my
life.'
'We stopped laughing the next morning
when Daddy came to pick us up. As I recall,
he didn't say a single word all the way home.'
'The drive from town to home never

seemed so long,' Chase agreed. 'We had all
that time to fret about what our punishment
was going to be. But you know,' he said with a
mischievous wink, 'that mare's offspring was
the ugliest damn mule I've ever seen.'
They laughed together for several
moments, remembering. Eventually, however,
Lucky sighed as he slid his hands into
the rear pockets of his jeans and leaned
against the fender of his car.
'We've had our brushes with the law, but
never anything like this, Chase. They haven't
got a damn thing on me, so why am I so
scared?'
'Because being accused of a felony like
arson is scary. You'd be a fool if you weren't.'
'In deference to the ladies in our family, I
hope it doesn't become necessary, but a
DNA-matching test would prove that I had
sex in that motel room.'
Chase winced.
'Right, it makes me squeamish too,' Lucky
said bitterly. 'But even though lab tests would
prove that I was there, they wouldn't prove
that she was, or that I didn't leave at some
point during the night, drive back here, set
the fire, then return by daylight and make
certain the clerk remembered me.'
'The only one who can establish your alibi
is the woman.' There was an implied question

mark at the end of Chase's statement.
Lucky looked chagrined. 'It wasn't as
sordid as it sounds.'
'Sounds pretty sordid, little brother.'
'Yeah, I know,' he admitted on a sigh.
'Look, I chased her down because she
hightailed it out of the place without even
thanking me for saving her from those two
slimeballs. Made me mad as hell. I caught up
with her at that motel and talked myself into
her room.
'By that time, I was feeling the effects of
Little Alvin's punches. A few shots of whiskey
had made me woozy. I lay down on the bed. I
think she got to feeling sorry for me then,
'cause she cleaned the knife wound and got
an ice pack for my eye. I fell asleep.'
'I thought you had sex.'
Again Lucky looked at something besides
his brother's inquisitive face. 'Sometime
during the night I woke up,' he said quietly.
'She has this really incredible dark red hair.
And her skin is so creamy, translucent, you
know.' Suddenly he yanked himself out of the
self-imposed trance and frowned at his own
susceptibility. 'She was classy, Chase.'
'Then what was she doing causing a stir at
the place?'
'Damned if I know. But she wasn't your
ordinary barfly, willing to grant sexual favors

in exchange for a few drinks. Not a party girl.
If anything, she was uptight and . . . and
. . . bossy. The kind of woman I usually avoid
like the plague.'
'You'd have done well to avoid this one.'
Lucky was reluctant to agree. For some
reason he hadn't yet had time to analyze, he
wasn't sorry about the night before. Nor did
he think it would be his only encounter with
Dovey, or Mary, or whatever her name was.
The consequences of their night together
had got him into more trouble than he'd ever
been in. That was saying a lot. But
inexplicably he didn't regret it. At least not as
much as the situation warranted.
'So what's your plan?'
Chase's question pulled him out of his
reverie. 'To find her.'
'How, if you don't even know her name?'
'I'll start at the place and work forward
from there.'
'Well, good luck.'
'Thanks.'
'If you need me, you know where to find
me.'
`I'll be glad to help you and the boys with
the cleanup,' Lucky offered.
'We can't start until they've finished their
investigation. God knows how long that'll
take, because they're sifting everything

through a fine-tooth comb, looking for
evidence. All you could do is what I'm doing,
and that's standing around twiddling my
thumbs.
'No, your time will be better spent clearing
yourself. The insurance company isn't going
to pay us one red cent until we've been
exonerated.' Chase squinted into the sunlight.
'Any ideas who might've done this?'
'My first guess would be Little Alvin and
Jack Ed.'
'Revenge?' Chase chuckled. 'From what
I've heard, you made Little Alvin sorry he
was a man.'
'He deserved it.'
'Pat thought he might be a suspect, too, but
he's got a whole tribe of Cagneys swearing
that Little Alvin was playing cards with his
brothers all night.'
'With an ice pack on his crotch?'
Again Chase laughed. 'Remind me never to
get you really mad at me.' His expression
turned serious again. 'Which I'm likely to do
by saying this.'
'What?'
'It might be a good idea to go see Susan
Young. Her daddy's already called me twice
today demanding to know what's going on.'
Lucky swore. 'You're right. I'd better get
over there and smooth her ruffled feathers.

We need to stay in good with the bank now
more than ever. Besides, I truly did do Susan
dirty by standing her up last night.'
'And making it public knowledge that you
spent the night with another woman.' Chase
eyed him speculatively. 'She must've been
some redhead.'
Refusing to be baited, Lucky settled into
the driver's seat of his convertible and turned
on the motor. 'In ten or twenty years we'll be
laughing about this the way we did about
Bledsoe's mule out of his thoroughbred
mare.'

She padded into her kitchen and opened the
refrigerator. As expected, it was empty. One
of the hazards of living alone was a bare
cupboard. It was less of a hassle to do without
food than to prepare meals for one.
The thought of going grocery shopping on
her return to Dallas early that morning
hadn't been very appealing. Instead, she'd
driven straight to her condo and, after taking
a long, hot bath to relieve her soreness, had
gone to bed.
There she had stayed most of the day,
telling herself she needed the rest after her
ordeal. Actually she had dreaded the moment

of accountability to her conscience for what
she had allowed to happen the night before.
There was about half a cup of skim milk in
the bottom of the carton. Sniffing it first to
make sure it hadn't soured, she poured it over
a bowl of Rice Krispies. They were so old,
they barely had any snap, crackle, or pop left
in them, but they would line her empty
stomach.
She went into the living room, curled into a
corner of her sofa, and reached for the TV's
remote control. It was too late for the soaps
and too early for the evening news. She was
left with reruns of syndicated sitcoms.
In one, the male lead had dark blond hair
and a mischievous, I'm-up-to-no-good grin.
She quickly switched to another channel,
unwilling to have anything remind her of the
stranger she had spent the night with
. . . been intimate with . . . made love with.
The thought of it made her hand shake so
badly she had to set the bowl of soggy cereal
on the coffee table or risk spilling it. She
covered her face with her cupped palms.
'Dear Lord,' she moaned. What in the world
had caused her to behave so irresponsibly?
Sure, she could list a million excuses,
starting with her emotional state yesterday
and ending with the gifted way that man had
kissed her when he drew her out of her dark

loneliness and despair into his strong, warm
arms.
'Don't think about it,' she admonished
herself, picking up the transmitter again and
vigorously punching through the channel
selector.
She had derided women who were
susceptible to handsome faces, brawny
physiques, and glib come-ons. She had
thought she was smarter than that. She was
far too intelligent, discerning, and discriminatory
to fall for a pelt of gold-tipped chest hair
and heavily lashed sky-blue eyes. His charm
had melted her morals and feminist resolve.
Lucky Tyler had succeeded in touching her
where no other man ever had -- her heart,
her body.
Mortification made her whimper. To stifle
the sound, she pressed her fingertips against
her lips, then explored them tentatively,
feeling the whisker burns. She had discovered
those sweetly chafed places on her breasts,
too, during her bath. They had brought back
tantalizing sensations that swirled through her
midsection.
When she had tried to sleep, squeezing her
eyes tightly shut, she recalled the tugging
motions his mouth had made on her nipples.
Her lower body contracted with a pleasurable
ache whenever she remembered that first,

sweet piercing of her flesh, then the strength
and depth of his penetration.
Now she crossed her arms over her lower
body and bent at the waist in the hopes of
eradicating both the mental and physical
recollections. They made her hot. They made
her want. They made her ashamed.
Lust for a total stranger? In a cheap roadside
motel? What a stupid thing to have done!
How reckless! How wrong! How unlike her!
But she hadn't exactly been herself
yesterday, had she? Before one could pass
judgment on her, one would have to
understand the state of mind she'd been in
twenty-four hours ago. One would have had
to experience the same cruel rejection,
traverse the same bleak corridors, feel the
lingering sense of suffocation even after
escaping those corridors.
One would have to experience the sense of
futility and defeat she had felt upon learning
that sometimes even making supreme sacrifices
wasn't enough. Having reached the
devastating realization that someone's love, or
even gratitude, couldn't be won, she'd been
at her lowest.
Enter Lucky Tyler -- as gorgeous as an
angel and as delightful as one of the devil's
favored children. He'd been funny and sexy
and needful.

Perhaps that had been his main attraction.
He had needed her, fundamentally and
simply, a man needing a woman. She had
desperately needed to be needed. She had
responded to his need as much as she had to
the transporting caresses of his hands and
mouth.
'Oh sure. Right,' she muttered to herself
impatiently. Rationalizations came a dime a
dozen, and none was going to be sufficient
justification. It had been a foolhardy thing to
do, but she had done it. Now she had to
come to terms with it.
Thank heaven she had had the foresight to
use a phony name and pay in cash when she
checked into the motel. He couldn't trace
her. Could he? Had she overlooked something?
In her haste to leave that morning had
she left behind a clue that would lead him to
her if he had a mind to find her?
No, she was almost sure she hadn't. As far
as Mr. Lucky Tyler was concerned, she was
totally anonymous. Only she would ever know
about last night, and she would forget it.
'Starting now,' she averred as she left the
sofa. Giving the belt of her robe a swift tug,
she moved into the spare bedroom that
served as her office at home. She switched on
the desk lamp and her word processor, slid on
a pair of reading glasses, and sat down in

front of the terminal.
Work had always been her salvation. Other
people relied on alcohol, drugs, sports, sex, to
forget their troubles and make life livable. For
her -- except for last night -- nothing worked
like work itself. Besides, she had a deadline.
Once she got a clear screen on her
computer, she referred to her notes and
began typing. Her fingers flew over the
keyboard. She wrote well into the night, as
though the devil were after her . . . and
rapidly closing in.

Susan Young descended the stairs slowly,
looking wounded, her mouth sulky. From her
appearance, Lucky guessed that she had been
crying most of the day, or at least wanted him
to think so. Her eyes were watery and red.
The tip of her nose had been rubbed raw by
tissues. Her complexion was splotchy.
In lieu of hello she said, 'Mama advised me
not to speak to you.' She halted on the third
stair from the bottom.
Seeing a potential way out of this
unwelcome encounter, Lucky asked solicitously,
'Would another time be better?'
'No, it would not!' she replied tartly. 'We've
got a lot to talk about, Mr. Tyler.'
Drat, he thought.
She descended the last three steps and
swept past him into the formal living room. It
smelled sickeningly of furniture polish.
Afternoon sunlight was shining through the
windows, dappling the pale blue carpet with
patterns of light and shadow. It was a
gorgeous day. Lucky wished he were outside
enjoying it. He wished he were anywhere but
where he was -- in the Youngs' formidable

living room being subjected to Susan's hurt,
chastising glare.
'Well?' she demanded imperiously the
moment she had closed the double doors.
'What can I say? I did something terribly
stupid, and got caught.'
His demeanor was self-deprecating. He'd
learned early on that the only way to handle a
woman scorned was to assume all the blame
and be as honest as was prudent. There had
been those occasions, however, when honesty
had been suspended because either castration
or his life were at stake. He didn't think
Susan's wrath had reached that level of
danger . . . yet.
Looking properly contrite, he said, 'Can
you forgive me for standing you up last night,
Susan?'
'Of course I can forgive you for that,
although it was a tacky thing to do.'
'It certainly was. I owe your parents an
apology for it, too.'
'We held up dinner for an hour and a half
waiting on you. We didn't eat until nine.'
That would have been about the time
Dovey was blowing on his knife wound,
cooling his flesh, and inflaming his passions
with her soft breath. Damn, it had felt
delicious, stirring his body hair, fanning his
skin.

'I have no excuse for what I did.'

The apologetic words were beginning to
stick in his craw. If not for her father's
position at the bank, he'd tell this spoiled brat
that he wasn't accountable to her for whom
he slept with, and that would be the last she'd
see of him.

He was anxious to begin his search for
Dovey, and was only going through the
motions of stroking Susan because it was
politic to do so. He hadn't needed Chase to
spell that out to him. However, he rued the
day he'd asked Susan for that first date
several months ago. He wanted to lash out,
reminding her that he'd made her no
promises, certainly had made no commitments,
and that whoever he slept with,
whether it be one woman or a dozen, was no
business of hers. Only a reminder of the loan
payment coming due forced him to squelch
his mounting temper.

Hoping that she wouldn't catch the
hopefulness in his voice, he said, 'You'd be
better off refusing to see me again.'

She gazed thoughtfully at the floor for a
moment, then raised her shimmering eyes to
his. 'I've got a more forgiving spirit than that.'

Damn! Women loved to be forgiving. It
vested them with enormous power over the
forgiven. They thrived on the poor sucker's

guilt like carrion birds on a carcass, picking it
clean.
'I can forgive you for skipping dinner with
us,' she said. 'I can even overlook your
engaging in a barroom brawl, because I know
you have a volatile nature. I'll admit that's
part of the attraction you hold over me.
'What I'm finding very difficult to forgive
. . . ' Here, her lower lip began to quiver
and her voice became tremulous. 'You've
humiliated me in front of the whole town.
They say you couldn't be located when the
fire broke out last night because you were
with a whore.'
'She wasn't a whore.' The application of
that word to Dovey made him so angry that
he was startled by the intensity of his
emotion.
'Then who was she?'
'A stranger. I never saw her before last
night, but she wasn't a whore.' Susan was
watching him shrewdly. He softened his tone.
'Look, Susan, I didn't set out to sleep with
anybody last night. It just sorta happened.'
That was the truth. He hadn't wormed his
way into Dovey's motel room with the
intention of making love to her. He'd only
wanted to provoke her as badly as he'd been
provoked, get his apology, and then leave.
It wasn't entirely his fault that it hadn't

quite worked out that way. He'd been
half-asleep when he reached for her. She'd
been fragrant and warm and soft and
compliant. Her damp lips had been mobile
beneath his, her body responsive. He couldn't
be blamed for how naturally his body had
responded to the sexy stimuli. Of course, it
had been conditioned to respond.
' . . . understand. You left here yesterday
aroused. Right?'
He blinked to clear his vision, and tried to
grasp what Susan had been saying. 'Uh,
right.'
She approached him, gazing up at him
through spiky, wet lashes. Her mouth looked
vulnerable. But for all her tears and sniveling,
Lucky knew she was about as helpless as a
barracuda.
'So you took your lust for me and spent it
on a willing woman,' she whispered, laying
her hands on his chest. 'I guess I should be
flattered, though I'm still very hurt. The
thought of you in bed with another woman
makes me just want to die.'
She looked closer to killing than dying. Her
eyes, no longer bright with tears, were alight
with malice. 'But I can understand how when
a man gets so aroused, he's got to do
something about it or explode.'
She came up on tiptoes and brushed a kiss

across his lips. 'I know the feeling, Lucky.
Don't you think I want you, too? Don't you
know that the only reason I'm saving myself
is so our wedding night will be special? Don't
you know how badly I want to make love to
you right now?'
True, he had been mildly aroused when he
left Susan after lunch the day before, but he
had got hotter than that watching certain
commercials on TV. His arousal then had
been like a mild head cold when compared to
the feverish delirium he'd experienced when
he'd entered Dovey's giving body.
'Look, Susan,' he said irritably, 'all this talk
about weddings -- '
She laid her fingers against his lips. 'Shh. I
know we can't make an announcement until
you get out of the mess you're in. Poor baby.'
She reached up with the intention of running
her fingers through his hair. He snapped his
head back and caught her hand before she
could touch him.
'Announcement?'
'The announcement of our engagement,
silly,' she said, playfully tapping his chest.
'And just so we can get this misunderstanding
about the fire settled quickly, and to prove
how much I love you, I'll say that you spent
last night with me.'
'What?'

'It's all over town that you woke up alone
this morning and can't produce your alibi. So
I'll say that I was with you. Mama and Daddy
will have a fit, of course, but they'll accept
our sleeping together as inevitable if I have an
engagement ring on my finger. They'll be so
happy we're finally making it official, they'll
overlook our one night of sin.'

She was either downright conniving or
entertaining delusions. Either way, she was
dangerous and had to be handled with kid
gloves.

'What makes you think anyone will believe
you if you come forward now and say I was
with you last night?'

'I'll say that, at first, you wouldn't let me be
your alibi because of what it would mean to
my reputation. I insisted until you capitulated.'

'Looks like you've got it figured from every
angle.'

'Ever since I heard you couldn't produce
that woman, it's all I've thought about. I'll
say I sneaked out after Mama and Daddy
had gone to bed. Actually I did go out last
night.'

'What for?'

'I was so upset, I drove around looking for
you, searching for your car at all the places
you usually go. When I didn't find you, I

came home. My parents never knew I went
out. I could say that we met and spent the
night together, passionately making love.' She
gave him an impish grin. 'Which isn't a bad
idea.'
'That's not how you felt about it yesterday,'
he reminded her.
'A girl can change her mind.'
She was as easy to see through as the
Waterford vase on the mantel. She had
turned him down yesterday, so he had slaked
his lust with someone else. That was
untenable to a conceited woman like Susan,
especially when everybody in town knew
about it. She had devised a way to save face
and, at the same time, lasso him for good.
Even though her lie would clear him, it was
self-serving.
'You'd be willing to lie to save my hide?
You'd do that for me?'
'And for me,' she admitted. 'I want you,
Lucky Tyler. And I mean to have you, no
matter what it takes.'
Whether I want you or not, he thought.
'I'll call Sheriff Bush right now,' she said
suddenly, turning toward the phone.
Lucky's arm shot out. He caught her hand.
'I can't let you do it, Susan.'
Her bright smile dimmed. 'Why not?'
'You could get in a lot of trouble by lying to

federal investigators. I can't let you do that
for me.'
'I want to.'
'And I appreciate it,' he said with what he
hoped sounded like sincerity. He could see,
however, that she wasn't convinced. 'Let me
think about it. You know, Susan, perjury is a
serious offense. I need to think it through
before letting you do it.'
Her smile returned, but there was a definite
edge to her voice when she said, 'Don't mull
it over too long. I'm not sure how long my
offer will stand.'
What a conniving little bitch, he thought.
Forcing himself to smile, he said, 'You're
something, you know that? When I first met
you, I had no idea there was so much
complexity beneath the surface.'
'Whatever I want I go after. It's as simple
as that.'
God help the man she got her hooks into.
Lucky silently vowed then and there that it
wasn't going to be him. 'Well, I've got a lot of
thinking to do, Susan, so I'd better be going.'
'Must you?' she whined.
'I must.'
'Take this with you.' She looped her arms
around his neck, pulled his head down, and
ground a wet, suggestive kiss upon his mouth.
When she eventually pulled back, she

whispered, 'Maybe that'll make you think
twice before going to another woman.'

Lucky endured the kiss because he
recognized the difference between feminine
wiles and real treachery. Susan Young
exercised the latter. She would resort even to
blackmail to get him to marry her.
As he went down her front walk, having
made good a temporary escape, he wiped the
remains of her kiss off his lips with the back
of his hand.
It hadn't repelled him. It certainly hadn't
stirred his ardor. It had left him feeling totally
indifferent to it, something that hadn't
happened since he first discovered kissing
under the tutelage of the preacher's daughter
behind the choir loft of the First Baptist
Church during vacation Bible school.
Between that first titillating mouth-to-mouth
experimentation and Susan's ardent
kiss, what had happened to immunize him
against the effects?
A taste of Dovey, that's what.

The bartender groaned when he looked up
and saw Lucky straddling one of the
barstools. 'I'd just as soon you take your
business somewhere else tonight, Lucky, and

give the place a rest.'
'Shut up and draw me a beer. I'm not
looking for trouble.'
'As I recall,' the bartender drawled, 'that's
what you said yesterday.' He slid the beer in
front of his customer.
Lucky sipped. 'I'm in a jam.'
'So I hear. It's all over town that you need
an alibi for last night.'
'Jeez, the grapevine around here is faster
and more accurate than a fax machine.'
The bartender's face split into a wide grin.
'If you don't like the gossip, you shouldn't
keep such a -- what do they call it? -- a high
profile. Plain folks are fascinated by the
activities of local celebrities.'
Lucky cursed and took another sip of his
drink. 'You remember anything about that
woman?'
'Not as much as you do, I'd bet,' he
chortled. His sappy grin faded beneath
Lucky's warning glare. 'Uh, well, let's see,
natural redhead, wasn't she? And I don't
mean anything lewd about that,' he added
hastily.
'Dark auburn hair, yeah.'
' 'Bout so tall.' He marked a spot near his
shoulder, holding his hand parallel to the
ground.
'I don't need a physical description,' Lucky

said impatiently. 'Do you remember anything
significant about her?'
'Significant?'
'Did you see her pull into the parking lot?'
The bartender searched his memory. 'I
think so. Came from the south, I believe.'
'The south.' Lucky assimilated that. 'If you
saw which direction she came from, you
must've noticed her car.'
'Sure did.'
'What kind was it?'
'Red,' he announced proudly, glad to be of
service.
'I know it was red,' Lucky growled. 'But
what kind?'
'Foreign, I think.'
'Make?' The bartender shook his head.
'Model?' Again Lucky received a negative
answer.

'Great,' he muttered, his highball glass at
his lips.
'Well, you followed her, Lucky. If you
didn't notice, how could you expect me to?'
'Don't worry about it. I just thought you
might've. You know I don't recognize the
make and model of any car manufactured
after 1970. Like you, I just remember hers
being compact and red. Maybe under
hypnosis I could remember the license
number, but I've been racking my brain all

day, and can't come up with a single digit or
letter of it.'

'Uh-oh.'

'What?' Lucky swiveled around on the
stool, following the direction of the bartender's
worried gaze. Coming through the door
were Little Alvin and Jack Ed. They paused
momentarily when they spotted Lucky. An
expectant hush fell over the bar. Then the duo
ambled toward a corner booth and sat down.

'Two beers each. Right now,' Little Alvin
bellowed to the bartender.

He uncapped four long necks and set them
on a cork-lined tray. 'I'll take it,' Lucky
offered congenially, sliding off his stool.

'Now, look, Lucky, I just got this place — '

'No trouble. Swear.' Lucky gave the man
his most winning grin. Carrying the tray, he
moved across the gritty hardwood floor
toward the corner booth. Little Alvin and
Jack Ed followed his progress with hooded
eyes.

When he reached their booth, he set the
tray on the table. 'Drink up, boys.'

Jack Ed sneered and suggested that Lucky
do something to himself that was anatomically
impossible.

Ignoring him, Lucky addressed Alvin.
'Glad to see you can walk upright today.'

Little Alvin glowered at him menacingly.

'You'll get yours, you cocky bastard.'
'Alvin, Alvin,' Lucky said, shaking his head
sorrowfully, 'is that any way to talk to me
after I've brought a peace offering?' He
nodded down at the beer Alvin had almost
guzzled in one swallow. 'I put your drinks on
my tab. Felt like it was the least I could do
after our misunderstanding yesterday.'
'You can't smooth-talk your way past me.
Beat it.'
The features of Lucky's face pulled taut.
'Listen you -- '
'Lucky!'
Chase's voice cut through the smoky, dense
atmosphere. From the corner of his eye
Lucky saw his brother weaving through the
tables to join him at the end of Little Alvin's
booth.
'Don't start anything else, for godsake,'
Chase warned him in a terse whisper.
'Well, if it ain't the rodeo star,' Jack Ed said
snidely, 'come to save his little brother from
another beatin'.'
'That's not the way I heard it, Patterson.'
Chase had been a bull rider in his youth.
He'd won a considerable amount of prize
money, and had made quite a name for
himself on the rodeo circuit. But the danger
associated with the sport had always worried
his parents. They were greatly relieved when

he became engaged to Tanya and retired from
it with all his faculties and all his body parts
still intact.
Chase didn't let Jack Ed provoke him. His
unexpected appearance had had a calming
effect on Lucky, who said now, 'I just wanted
to ask them some questions.'
'I wouldn't mind asking them a few
myself,' Chase said.
Feeling expansive, Little Alvin propped his
arms, which were as big around as pythons,
along the back cushion of the booth. 'About
what?'
'About the fire last night in our garage,'
Chase said.
'About the woman who was in here
yesterday,' Lucky replied tightly.
Alvin responded to Lucky's question.
'Heard she ran out on you,' he said with a
malicious grin. 'Too bad. Always suspected
that your success with the fairer sex was
overrated.' Jack Ed thought that was hilarious.
His giggle was almost as high-pitched as
a woman's.
'I don't believe for a minute you were
playing cards with your brothers all night,'
Chase said.
'Did she ever give you her name?' Lucky
asked, miraculously quelling the overwhelming
impulse to wipe the gloating grin off

Alvin's beefy face.
'You balled her and you don't even know
her name?'
Lucky lunged toward the larger man.
Chase grabbed him by the shoulders and
pulled him back. 'Let's get out of here.'
'You son -- '
'Let's go!' Chase dragged his younger
brother backward across the lounge, with
Lucky struggling every step of the way. His
bootheels thumped along the floor as he dug
them in, trying to get traction.
'Too bad you lost the one woman who
could keep you out of jail, Tyler,' Little Alvin
taunted.
Lucky gnashed his teeth and let out a feral
sound, straining to get loose from Chase.
Chase, however, held tight. 'Dammit, I'll
knock you out cold myself if you don't settle
down. What the hell's the matter with you?'
Once they had made it through the door,
Chase slammed Lucky against the exterior
wall of the building. Lucky threw off his
brother's restraining hands. 'You have to ask
what the matter is?' he shouted. 'They were
right. I might go to jail.'
'So what does that have to do with what
went on in there?' Chase hitched his chin
toward the tavern.
'I was looking for information about her.'

'Why?'
'Why?'
'Yeah, why?' Chase settled his hands on his
hips and confronted his short-tempered
brother. 'You've been acting just plain weird
all day. I think locating this woman means
more to you than providing yourself with an
alibi.'
'You're crazy.'
'Don't call me crazy. I'm not the one
picking fights with Little Alvin two days
straight over the same broad.'
Lucky was ready with a vehement denial
that she was a 'broad' when he caught
himself. The protest would confirm Chase's
suspicions. Belligerently he said, 'Just leave
me the hell alone and let me deal with this
my way, okay?'
'Not okay. You're my brother. The Tylers
stick together. If you're in trouble, we're all in
trouble. And since you can't seem to stay out
of it, you're stuck with me as your protector.'
They looked away from each other, each
trying to get hold of his temper. Lucky was
the first to come around. 'Oh hell, Chase, you
know I'm glad you intervened. At least in
hindsight I am. I couldn't afford to get my
other eye pulverized.'
Chase grinned and slapped him between
the shoulder blades. 'Follow me to our house.

Mother's been so upset all day, Tanya offered
to cook dinner for everybody.'
'Her famous pot roast?' Lucky asked
hopefully.
'That's right.'
'Hmm,' he sighed, smacking his lips. 'Tell
me -- brother to brother -- is she as good in
the bedroom as she is in the kitchen?'
'You'll die wondering.' He shoved Lucky in
the direction of his car. 'And we'll both die at
her hands if we spoil her dinner by being
late.'
Lucky was tailing Chase's car into town
when it occurred to him that his return to the
place had gained him nothing. He was no
closer to locating Dovey than he'd been when
he first woke up that morning, finding her
side of their shared bed empty.

'Know what Susan Young is spreading all over
town?'
In response to his sister's question, Lucky
grunted with lack of interest from behind his
morning newspaper.
'That y'all are getting married.' Sage
popped a fat, juicy strawberry into her mouth
and chewed with sybaritic enthusiasm. 'I've
gotta tell you that if you marry the snotty
bitch, I'm disowning this family for good.'
'Promises, promises.' Lucky lowered the
newspaper to take a sip of breakfast coffee.
'You've been threatening to disown the family
ever since Chase and I hid your first bra in
the freezer. So far, we've had no such luck.'
He retreated from her glare by burying his
head in the newspaper again.
Sage slathered cream cheese onto a slice of
low-calorie whole-wheat toast. 'Well, are
you?' she mumbled around the first creamy
bite.
'Am I what?'
'Marrying Susan Young.'
Lucky laid aside the newspaper. 'Get
serious. While you're at it, get your older

brother some more coffee.'
'Haven't you ever heard of women's lib?'
she asked crossly.
'Sure, I've heard of it.'
Picking up his mug, he wagged it back and
forth while smiling at her guilelessly. With a
theatrical sigh she fetched the carafe from the
coffee maker and refilled his mug.
'Thanks, brat.'
'You're welcome.' She slid back into her
chair. 'All kidding aside, Lucky, if Susan
Young has got it in her head that you're her
prospective groom, you'd better be shopping
for a diamond ring. When she doesn't get her
way, she causes trouble.'
'What more can she do? I'm already in
trouble up to my gills.'
A week had passed since his fight with
Little Alvin. It had been the longest week of
Lucky's life. The area around his right eye
had run the gamut of rainbow colors, and was
still a sick, jaundiced yellow. The red line
across his abdomen had faded to pink.
Together with Sheriffs Department deputies
and insurance investigators, federal
agents continued to sift through the debris
left by the fire. Due to the unfavorable
publicity, Tyler Drilling's client list had
dropped drastically. The note payment
was coming due in less than a month, and

what little revenue had been trickling in
had stopped altogether. Bankruptcy seemed
unavoidable. There wasn't even a glimmer of
light on the dark horizon.
'One good thing,' Chase had optimistically
remarked the evening before, 'they haven't
turned up any hard evidence against you.
Without something that places you on the
scene at the time of the fire, they haven't got
a case. It's all circumstantial.'
'That's a plus from the legal standpoint,'
Lucky had said. 'But until the insurance
company is satisfied that we were victims and
not perpetrators, they aren't going to honor
our claim. So, while I won't go to jail, we're
still in hock.'
They desperately needed verification of
Lucky's whereabouts that night in order to
eliminate him as an arson suspect. They
desperately needed Dovey.
Thus far, however, his attempts to track her
had led him nowhere except in circles. Daily
he polled the patrons of the place, asking
everyone who had witnessed the incident
with Little Alvin and Jack Ed if he
remembered anything about the elusive
woman or her car. All the men remembered
that she was a good-looking redhead. Beyond
that, he had come up empty-handed.
A return trip to the motel to speak with the

night clerk hadn't been productive either. The
man remembered her, all right, but she had
registered as Mary Smith, paid for one night
with cash, and that was all he knew. The
convenience-store clerk who had sold him the
whiskey, steak, and aspirin had never seen
him with Dovey.
'She couldn't have just vanished off the
face of the earth!' Lucky had exclaimed to his
family after his discouraging interview with
the motel clerk. 'She's somewhere, walking
around, breathing, going about her business,
eating, sleeping, having no idea of the havoc
she's created in my life.'
'Maybe not,' Tanya had suggested.
He had stopped pacing and looked toward
his sister-in-law. 'What do you mean?'
'Maybe she's read about the fire in the
newspaper and realizes she's your alibi, but
hasn't come forward because she doesn't
want to become involved.'
'That's a possibility,' Chase had said.
Because it irked Lucky to think so, he
dismissed that worry. 'It's only been in the
local papers, and she said she wasn't from
around here when Pat asked her. I think she
was telling the truth when she gave Dallas as
her address. She looked like a city girl.'
But for the next several days he had logged
a lot of miles on his Mustang, driving to

neighboring communities and tracking down
all the Mary Smiths on the lists of registered
voters. He found several. One was eighty-two;
one was middle-aged, blind, and living with
her elderly parents; one was a coed. All were
dead ends.

He considered combing Dallas, seeking out
every Mary Smith, but he knew it would be a
time-consuming chore and, in the end, an
exercise in futility. Tongue-in-cheek, and very
cleverly, she had used that fictitious name.
Why? She hadn't known then that he would
eventually be looking for her to serve as his
alibi in a criminal investigation.

'Lucky, are you listening to me?'

Sage's impatient inquiry brought him back
to the present. 'Hmm? What? You were saying
something about Susan?'

'I was saying that she's a spiteful bitch.'

'How do you know so much about her?
She was several classes ahead of you.'

'But her legend lived on even after I got to
high school.'

'Legend?'

'Her meanness was legendary.'

'Example?'

'She was so envious when one of her
classmates was named Homecoming queen
instead of her that she circulated the rumor
that the girl had herpes.'

Lucky gave a spontaneous burst of
laughter.
'It's not funny!' Sage exclaimed. 'The
gossip ruined that girl's reputation and made
the remainder of her days at high school pure
hell. That's not all.'
Propping her arm on the edge of the table,
she leaned toward him. 'Susan was named
first alternate on the girls' varsity basketball
team. The next morning, when the newly
named team was suiting up for practice, a
bank of lockers fell over on top of one of the
girls and broke her arm. Susan was standing
on the other side of the lockers.'
'And it's believed that she pushed it over?'
'That's right.'
'Sage, that's crazy. It's silly high school
backbiting and nothing more.'
She shook her head adamantly. 'I don't
think so. Some of my friends who have stayed
in town and know Susan through clubs and
such say she's a viper. If she wants to be the
president of this or that, she'll do anything to
get elected.' Her eyes narrowed. 'Now she's
set her sights on you. She wants to be Mrs.
Lucky Tyler.'
'I wonder why?' he asked, honestly puzzled
by Susan's fixation on him. They'd gone out
steadily for the last few months, had shared a
few laughs, smooched a little, but he'd never

even breathed the word 'marriage.'
'That's easy,' Sage replied to his rhetorically
phrased question. 'No other woman has
had the distinction of marrying you. Those
who keep notches on their bedposts prize the
one you make. You're the local stud. It would
be a feather in Susan's cap to break you.'
'Local stud, huh?' he drawled, leaning far
back in his chair.
'Will you stop with the conceit,' Sage said
with annoyance. 'A man with gray chest hairs
has nothing to be conceited about.'
'Gray!' he exclaimed. He bent his head
down to investigate the wedge of chest
showing through his parted robe. 'Those are
blond.'
'Susan's determination to have you,
coupled with this nonsense about the fire,
worries me.'
'Those lighter hairs are blond, Sage.'
'Will you forget the hairs! I was only
kidding, for heaven's sake.'
His sister's concern touched him, but he
couldn't take her warnings about Susan
seriously. Granted, the woman was a
schemer. She was unquestionably selfish, and
could have taught the green-eyed monster a
thing or two about jealousy. But he hadn't
exactly been born yesterday. Susan would
have to practice some mighty refined

chicanery to outsmart him.
Reaching across the table, he patted the top
of Sage's unruly blond head. 'Don't worry,
brat. I wrote the book on how to take care of
women.'
'You don't -- '
Her protest was cut short when a knock
sounded on the back door. 'That'll be
Mother,' she said, leaving her chair to open
the door. 'Oh, Pat!' she said with surprise.
'We were expecting Mother back from an
early trip to the produce stand down the
highway.'
'Mornin', Sage, Lucky.' Pat stepped into
the kitchen and removed his Stetson. 'Got an
extra cup of coffee?'
'Sure.'
He thanked Sage for the cup of black
coffee she poured him, blew on it, removed
the matchstick from his mouth and sipped it,
then stared into it for several silent moments.
The coffee was a tactical delay.
If Pat had come in an official capacity to
impart bad news, Lucky figured he would
make it as easy on him as possible. 'Why
don't you tell us why you came out this
morning, Pat?'
The family friend lowered himself into a
chair across the table from Lucky. After
glancing uncomfortably around the kitchen,

he finally looked directly at the younger man.
'Have you bought anything at Talbert's
Hardware Store recently?'
'Talbert's Hardware?' he repeated with
puzzlement. 'Oh wait, yeah. I bought some
railroad flares a few weeks back.'
Pat Bush blew out a gust of air. 'Where
were you storing them?'
'In the -- ' Lucky refocused sharply on the
sheriff. 'In the garage that burned.'
'They, uh, they've determined that the fire
was caused by gasoline touched off by
railroad flares. Nothing fancy. Simplest thing
in the world.'
Sage sank into the chair beside her brother
and laid her hand on his shoulder. He plowed
his fingers through his hair and held it back
by settling his forehead in his palm. It was
unnecessary for Pat to explain the significance
of that find.
'I shouldn't be telling you this, Lucky,' Pat
said. 'I'm here as a friend, not a law officer.
Just thought I ought to warn you. They're
preparing a case against you. Looks like now
they might have enough probable cause to
arrest you.'
When the sheriff stood to go, Lucky roused
himself. 'Thanks, Pat. I know you're going
out on a limb to tell me.'
'When your daddy was dying, I promised

him I'd look after Laurie and you kids. That
pledge is more important to me than the oath
I took when they pinned this badge on me.'
He moved toward the door. 'Sage,' he said,
replacing his hat before stepping outside and
pulling the door closed.
'Lucky,' she said miserably, 'what are you
going to do?'
'Damned if I know.'
In a fit of temper he hissed a vile word and
banged his fist on the table. The blow rattled
every piece of glass in the kitchen, even
though it was somewhat cushioned by the
newspaper he'd left lying open on the table.
His jaw grinding with aggravation, he
stared down at the newsprint sightlessly,
periodically spiking his enraged silence with a
curse.
Suddenly his whole body tensed. He
grabbed up the newspaper and held it close
to his face. 'I'll be damned,' he whispered in
awe. He laughed shortly. Then he laughed
loudly.
In one motion he dropped the newspaper
and stood up, sending his chair over
backward and crashing to the floor. He left
the kitchen at a run. By the time Sage caught
up with him, he was taking the stairs two at a
time.
'Lucky, what in the world . . . ?'

He disappeared at the top of the landing.
She ran up the stairs after him and flung
open the door to his bedroom. He was hiking
a pair of jeans up over his hips.
'What's the matter? What are you doing?
Where are you going?'
He pushed her aside on his way out of the
room, wearing only his jeans, carrying a shirt
and his boots with him.
She charged down the stairs after him. 'Lucky, slow down! Tell me. What's going
on?'
He was already vaulting into his open
convertible when she bounded across the
front porch after him. 'Tell everybody I'll be
back by nightfall!' he shouted over the roar of
the Mustang's revving engine. 'By then I'll be
able to clear this whole thing up.'

'Here's that reference material you wanted
from the morgue.' The gofer dumped a
mountain of files on her desk.
Holding the last bite of her lunch sandwich
between her teeth, she frowned at the extent
of the research material and mumbled,
'Thanks for nothing.'
'Anything else?'
She bit into the sandwich, chewed,

swallowed, then blotted her mouth with a
paper napkin. 'Coffee. From a fresh pot,
please,' she called after the young man as he
dashed off. He was a college student who
interned at the newspaper three afternoons a
week. He hadn't been there long enough to
become jaded. He was still starstruck and
eager to please.
Her position as editorial columnist entitled
her to a glass cubicle of an office, but the
constant noise and hustle from the sprawling
city room filtered into it. To anyone
unaccustomed to newspaper offices, the
incessant noise and motion would have been
distracting. She didn't even notice.
That's why she wasn't attuned to the
change in the climate that occurred when a
man stepped off the elevator and asked for
her.
His appearance had an immediate effect
on the women in the room. It wasn't only
that he was tall, slim-hipped, blond,
blue-eyed, and handsome. It was the
purposeful way he crossed the city room, as
though it were a battlefield on which he'd
just won the day and was about to collect
the spoils of war. Even the most feminist
among them secretly fantasized about being
part of those spoils.
He also attracted the curiosity of the men,

who, to a man, were glad they didn't have to
tangle with him. It wasn't that he was of such
an intimidating size, though his shoulders
were broad and his chest wide. No, it was the
expression on his face that was quelling. His
jaw was set with inflexible resolve. His eyes
were steady and unblinking; they could have
been focused on a target caught in the
crosshairs of a rifle sight.
He paused momentarily at the door of the
small glass enclosure and stared in at the
woman, who was bent over an open file on
her desk, absorbed by its contents. A stillness
had fallen over the city room. Computer
keyboards stood silent. Ringing phones went
unanswered.
The woman in the glass office seemed the
only one unmindful of his presence as she
absently dragged a pencil through her loose
dark auburn hair. Without glancing up from
her reading matter, she waved her hand to
signal him inside.
'Just set it there on the desk,' she said. 'It
needs to cool off anyway.'
He moved forward to stand at the edge of
her littered desk. She was aware of him, but it
was several moments before she realized that
he wasn't the college student in the Argyle
socks there to deliver a cup of fresh coffee.
Raising her head, she gazed up at him

through the wide lenses of her eyeglasses.
She dropped the pencil. Her lips parted.
She uttered a small gasp.
'My God.'
'Not quite.' he said. 'Lucky Tyler.'

She swallowed visibly, but said nothing.
'While we're on the subject of names,'
Lucky said, 'what's yours? Dovey? Or Mary
Smith? Or is it Devon Haines?' He slapped a
newspaper, open to her column, onto her
desk.
Her eyes lowered to the page, then swung
back up to him. 'Ordinarily they don't print
my picture with my byline. I didn't know they
were going to do it with this article, or I
would have asked them not to.' Her voice was
little more than a hoarse croak.
'I'm glad they did. I've been looking for
you ever since you skipped out on me. For
the second time.'
The initial shock of seeing him was wearing
off; she was gradually regaining her composure.
She assumed the haughty demeanor
that set Lucky's teeth on edge. He recognized
the expression she had worn while telling him
off for interfering with her struggle with Little
Alvin.
'If I had wanted you to know my name, I
would have given it to you.' She threw her
shoulders back, shaking her hair off them.

'Obviously I preferred to remain anonymous,
Mr. Tyler, so if you would be so kind -- '
' 'Kind' be damned,' he interrupted. 'If you
want to talk here and let all the spectators in
on it, fine.' With a jerking motion of his head
he indicated the city room behind him. 'Or
would you rather talk in private? Either way is
okay with me . . . Dovey.'
He deliberately slurred the last word,
letting her know the extent of his anger, and
that, if necessary, he had no qualms about
discussing in front of an audience what had
transpired in the motel room. Obviously she
did. Her face paled.
'I suppose I could spare you a moment.'
'Smart choice.'
He took her arm the minute she rounded
the desk and escorted her through the city
room, where the onlookers made no pretense
of subtlety. Speculative conversation resumed
the instant Lucky and Devon cleared the
doorway.
'Here are the elevators.' She feebly pointed
them out when he marched past them
without even slowing down.
Propelling her toward the heavy fire door
marked stairs, he took hold of the knob and
pushed it open. 'This'll do.' He guided her
through the doorway and followed closely
behind.

She spun around to confront him. 'I don't
know what you're doing here, or what you
expect to gain by -- '
'You'll know in good time. First things
first.'
He shoved his fingers up through her hair
and cupped her head. Tipping it back, he
captured her surprised lips in a fiery kiss.
Inexorably moving forward, he backed
her into the wall without decreasing the
pressure of his lips on hers. She strangled
on her protests and ground the heels of her
hands against his shoulders, trying to push
him off.
'Stop!' she managed to rasp out when he
came up for air.
Lucky, however, had a week's worth of
pent-up frustration to expend, a week's worth
of lust to slake, and he couldn't have been
budged by a Sherman tank.
'I'm not finished yet.'
He sealed their mouths together again,
employing the technique he'd begun developing
with the preacher's daughter and over the
years had mastered to an enviable expertise.
The pads of his fingertips pressed into her
scalp, while his thumbs met beneath her chin
to stroke the smoothest expanse of skin he'd
ever felt except for the insides of her thighs.
She never had a chance.

Her protests grew fainter, until they no
longer qualified as gargled threats, but
sounded more like whimpers of arousal. She
stopped resisting the thrusts of his tongue as
it hungrily plumbed her mouth again and
again.
His first taste of her in more than a week
reawakened an appetite that had been
whetted but far from satisfied. He angled his
body closer to hers, sent his tongue deeper
into her mouth, and tilted his hips forward,
nudging the cleft of her thighs, wanting,
wanting, wanting . . .
Suddenly coming to his senses, he raised
his head and smiled down at her. Gently he
flicked his tongue against the corner of her
lips, savoring the flavor of her kiss, and
whispered, 'You're the one, all right. I'd know
you anywhere.'
'What are you doing?'
'Trying to figure out a convenient way into
your blouse.' He frowned at the back buttons.
'Later.'
She raised a hand to her lips and touched
them gingerly. 'You shouldn't have kissed me
like that, Mr. Tyler.'
'My mother tells me I've always been guilty
of doing things I shouldn't do. My conscience
doesn't have a very loud speaking voice.
Sometimes I don't hear it.' He smiled

engagingly and ducked his head for another
kiss.
Devon staved him off. 'Please don't.'
'Why not?'
'Because I don't want you to.'
'Liar.'
'How dare -- '
'You want it as much as I do.'
Her eyes flashed like summer lightning, the
kind of hot white lightning that brings no
rain. She slipped around him and made a
beeline for the door leading back into the
corridor. Before she could pull it open, he
reached beyond her shoulder and flattened
his hand against it.
She executed a stiff military about-face. 'I
don't know what you hoped to gain by
finding me, Mr. Tyler, but you're in for a
disappointment. What happened last week
was a fluke.'
'You'll have to be more specific. Are you
talking about the barroom brawl or our night
together?'
'Our . . . our night together,' she repeated,
all but choking on the words. 'I want to forget
it ever happened.'
'Sorry. No can do, Dovey.'
'Stop calling me Dovey! Now that you
know it isn't my real name, it sounds
ridiculous.'

'Right. I can't believe I ever took you for a
woman named something as whimsical as
Dovey.'
'If you persist in bothering me, I'll have to
call -- '
'Security? Great, call them. I'm sure they'd
love to hear all about my business with you.'
The ruse worked. He watched as she
obviously considered several options and
hastily discarded them all. Finally, crossing
her arms over her middle, she looked up at
him and demanded, 'Well, what do you
want?'
'If you're still in doubt, hug me real tight.'
Her eyes skittered down the front of his
body, then hastily came back up to meet his.
'Besides the obvious,' she said ungraciously,
'what do you want?'
'To talk to you. But not here. Is there
someplace we can go?'
'There's a sandwich shop across the street.'
'Good. I haven't eaten lunch. Lead the
way.'

'What'll you have?' Lucky asked, consulting
her from across the diner's turquoise tile
table.
'Nothing.'

To the waitress, he said, 'One cheeseburger,
cooked medium.' He glanced down at
Devon, looked pointedly at her mouth, and
added, 'Cut the onions. French fries,
chocolate shake.' Politely addressing Devon
again, he asked, 'Sure you don't want
something?'
'I'm sure.'
Handing the menus back to the waitress,
he said, 'Bring us two coffees, too.'
'You don't take no for an answer, do you?'
Devon asked, after the waitress had withdrawn.
'Rarely from a woman,' he admitted.
'I thought as much.'
'What makes you think so?'
'You're the overbearing, macho type.'
To her irritation, he smiled. 'That's me.
Caveman Tyler.'
Lucky was having the time of his life just
looking at her. She was wearing a loose, soft
blouse that buttoned down the back. It was
primly styled and had full long sleeves,
cuffed at her wrists. Beneath the sheer ivory
fabric, he could see the outline of quality
lingerie. She was wearing the blouse with a
plain straight black skirt. For all its
practicality and austerity, the outfit was as
sexy as hell.
'I suppose sharing a motel bedroom with a

stranger is nothing new to you,' she
remarked.
'It's happened.'
'Not to me.'
The waitress arrived with their coffees.
Lucky watched Devon mindlessly raise hers
to her lips and sip at it before she
remembered that she had originally declined
it. Coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup and
into the saucer when she set it down
emphatically.
'Now that we're alone, will you please tell
me what we have to talk about?'
'What were you doing in the place?' he
asked.
'That dive where we happened to meet?'
'Right.'
'Did you read my story in this morning's
paper?'
He cocked his head to one side, unsure
what relevance her question had to his. 'No. I
didn't get past the picture of you.'
'If you had read it, you would have realized
I was in that tavern doing research.'
He settled his cheek in the palm of his
hand, propped his elbow on the table, and
regarded her calmly as he silently invited her
to elaborate. She took a deep breath.
'My column this week was on the rights still denied women, despite the strides
we've

taken in the past two decades toward
achieving equality.'
'You went into the place and bought a
drink. What right were you denied?'
'My right to be left alone.'
He grunted noncommittally.
She continued, 'A woman still can't go into
a bar alone without every man in there
assuming that she's on the make, to pick up a
man or be picked up. The thesis of my article
was that there are still bastions of our society
that women have yet to infiltrate, much less
conquer.
'What took place in the bar proved my
point. I did nothing to encourage the
attention of those two rednecks. I sat quietly
in my booth, drinking my beer, until they
came over and started hassling me. It
wasn't . . . ' She paused and glared at him.
'What are you laughing at?'
'I was just thinking that if you were missing
a few teeth, and had acne and thick ankles,
you probably could have drunk your beer in
peace.'
The waitress arrived with his food. Once
she had set the platters in front of him,
Devon picked up her argument.
'In other words, a woman who isn't
particularly attractive is safe from male
attention.'

'You look mad,' he said, all innocence. 'I
thought I was being complimentary.'
'How much more sexist could you be than
to judge a woman's worth -- or a man's for
that matter -- strictly on the basis of looks?'
She brushed locks of her thick, lustrous
hair off her shoulders. If she wanted him to
judge her on the merits of her mind, Lucky
thought, she should stop practicing feminine
witchcraft like tossing around that mass of
dark red hair and looking so damned
seductive.
'Sorry, Devon, it's just not in my genes to
think of you as anything but a beautiful,
exciting woman.'
'Is that spelled g-e-n-e-s or jeans?'
Casually he shook salt and pepper over the
patty of the cheeseburger, then placed the top
bun on it -- all without ever taking his eyes
off her. 'Both. Better not ask which one
makes the most convincing argument.' He bit
into the cheeseburger and derived satisfaction
not only from its taste, but from her obvious
discomfiture.
'Tell me, then,' she said, making a stab at
being composed, 'if I had been missing teeth,
et cetera, would you still have come to my
rescue?'
He reached for the catsup. 'Damn right. I
would have. But,' he said, aiming his finger

toward the ceiling to emphasize that he was
about to make the most important point of
his argument, 'I probably wouldn't have
followed you afterward. I wouldn't have
stretched out on your bed.' He lowered his
voice and leaned across the table, bringing
them nose to nose. 'I wouldn't have wanted
you to go on blowing on my belly forever, and
I wouldn't have woken up later wanting to
blow on yours.'
For a moment she was too stunned to
move. Then she grabbed her purse and
scooted toward the opening of the booth.
Lucky raised his booted foot beneath the
table and propped it on the opposite bench,
blocking her escape.
'Hey, you asked, remember? I was just
being honest, Devon.'
'Spare me your honesty from now on. I
want to leave. Now.'
'Uh-uh. We've still got a lot to talk about.'
In no apparent hurry, he took another bite of
his cheeseburger and dunked a French fry
into the blob of catsup he'd poured into his
plate. 'Why'd you get mad when I intervened?'
'Because I wanted to handle the situation
myself. Part of my research was to see how a
woman could get out of a situation like that if
forced into one. You took away my opportunity
of seeing it through.'

'I took away your opportunity of getting to
know Little Alvin and Jack Ed better.'
'Possibly,' she admitted with chagrin. 'They
were a bit more than I bargained for. I had
expected wolf whistles, perhaps a pass or two.
I hadn't expected to be manhandled.
'And I'll tell you beforehand,' she went on,
'that you're mentioned in the article, too. Not
by name, of course. You're referred to as a
man with the White Knight syndrome.'
'What's that?'
'He makes it his personal crusade to rescue
damsels in distress.'
'Hey, I like that.' He sucked on the straw in
his milk shake. 'Why'd you use the phony
name to check into the motel?'
Apparently she hadn't intended him to take
the White Knight reference as a compliment.
Dropping her forehead into her hand, she
began massaging her temples. 'I don't know.
Whim. Sometimes people recognize my name
and want to take issue with one article or
another. I didn't feel up to conversation that
evening.'
He polished off the milk shake and pushed
aside the glass, along with his empty plate.
The waitress passed with a carafe of fresh
coffee and refilled their cups before taking his
dishes away.
'You never thought it would matter what

name you used,' Lucky said softly.
She raised her head. 'No. I never thought it
would matter. I never expected to see you
again.'
'That's because you don't know me very
well.'
His simple statement caused a worried
frown to appear between her brows. 'What do
you want? Why have you come here looking
for me?'
'You know what I want, Devon.' His eyes
slowly moved from the top of her head, over
her face and throat, to her breasts. When his
eyes reconnected with hers, he said, 'I want
another night in bed with you. This time we'll
both be naked. I'll be looking at you with two
clear eyes. And I won't waste any time
sleeping.'
'That's impossible.' Her voice was so husky
it was barely audible. 'I'm telling you now, so
you'll know and won't waste my time or
yours. It is impossible. If that's all you came
for -- '
'It isn't.'
'Then what? Hush money? Do you plan to
blackmail me now that you know my name
means something in this city?'
He ground his teeth in an effort to control
his temper. 'Don't ever say anything like that
to me again, Devon. My name means

something in my own town. The Tylers don't
need anything or anybody badly enough to
resort to blackmail.'
'I'm sorry I offended you and your family
name.'
She said it as if she meant it, as if it was out
of character for her to deliver such a low blow
unless she was terribly upset. Lucky believed
she was. Her original anxiety over seeing him
had returned. It showed on her lovely features
and in the depth of her green eyes.
'Just please tell me what you want, so I can
go back to work and you can leave.'
'You weren't just another pickup, Devon.'
'Am I supposed to be flattered by that?'
'I'd like for you to be.'
She shook her head. 'I can't accommodate
you. Being a one-night stand made me feel
cheap.'
'You were more than a one-night stand. My
night with you is very significant to my
future.'
'Oh please,' she groaned. 'Don't add insult
to injury by feeding me juvenile lines like
that.'
'You are my alibi.'

'Alibi? Like in a crime?'
'Exactly like in a crime.'
Devon shook her head. 'I don't understand.'
Lucky told her about the fire. 'Several
pieces of large machinery were destroyed. The
damage is estimated at close to seven figures.
At this point Tyler Drilling is stuck with the
loss.'
As always, whenever he thought about it,
he became frustrated. 'It's crazy. If the local
authorities were handling the investigation
alone, we, my family and I, would never have
fallen under suspicion. But with the feds in
on it ...
'See, apparently a lot of oilmen who are in
financial straits are taking desperate measures.
I'm sure fraud is rampant. So, the
insurance companies are on the alert. Of
course their suspicions are unfounded in this
case, but we've got to prove them wrong. My
brother can verify his whereabouts that night.
I can't. Not without you.'
She regarded him closely for several
moments before averting her head to gaze

through the window at the traffic moving
along the congested downtown boulevard.
'So you want me to go on record as your
alibi. You couldn't have been in Milton Point
setting fire to the garage because you were in
bed with me all night.'
'That sums it up.'
She swung her gaze back to him. 'I can't do
it.'
Before he could react, she slid from the
booth and headed for the door of the diner.
'Hey, what the -- ' Standing, he worked his
hand into the pocket of his jeans and tossed a
ten-dollar bill onto the table. 'Thanks!' he
shouted to the waitress as he bolted through
the door in pursuit of Devon Haines.
He caught up with her at the intersection
where she was jaywalking. 'What the hell do
you mean you can't?' He took hold of her
upper arm and halted her in the middle of the
street. Horns began blaring around them. A
beer truck swerved to avoid a collision.
Lucky ushered her to the curb. Once they
had reached the sidewalk, he drew her out of
the flow of pedestrian traffic and repeated his
question. 'This time I really can't take no for
an answer, Devon.'
'You'll have to. I can't vouch for your
whereabouts that night.'
'The hell you can't,' he ground out. Pulling

her against him, he lowered his head to within
whispering distance of hers. 'You know I was
lying beside you all night. I fell asleep before
you did. You were gone by the time I woke up
the following morning. And if you've
forgotten what happened in between, I'll be
happy to refresh your memory.'
She nervously dampened her lips with her
tongue. CI don't need to be reminded, thank
you.'
'At least you're not denying it happened.'
'No, it happened, but I wish it hadn't. I'm
not proud of it. I'm certainly not going to
confess it to the world.' She wrested her arm
free. 'I'm sorry you're in trouble. Truly I am.
But that fire has nothing to do with me.'
'Maybe not, but you're the only thing
standing between jail and me.'
'Oh, I doubt that. A man like you always
lands on his feet. I'm sure that before you're
formally charged, you'll see a way out.' She
began backing away from him. 'In any event I
won't be able to help you.'
She turned and entered the newspaper
building through the revolving bronze doors.
Lucky charged after her. By the time he was
disgorged into the lobby by the rapidly
turning doors, she was about to step onto the
elevator. He raced for it.
Two uniformed guards lunged for him,

catching him by the arms from behind. 'Hey,
buddy, you bothering Ms. Haines?' Apparently
they'd been asked to intercept him.
'This won't help, Devon!' Lucky shouted to
the closing elevator doors. She refused to
meet his eyes as she punched the button for
her floor.
He struggled with the security guards. 'Let
go of me. I'm leaving, I'm leaving.' They
didn't take his word for it, but pushed him
through the revolving doors.
'If you come back, we'll call the police!'
one shouted after him.
Lucky yelled back an obscenity, then stood
glaring at the front of the building while
pedestrians eddied around him. 'Now what?'
he muttered. What the hell did she mean by 'I
can't'?

Using the transmitter, Devon lowered the
automatic garage door, then let herself into
the condo through the connecting kitchen
door. Once inside, she ran through the dim,
silent rooms until she reached the living
room, where she watched the street through
the shutters until she was satisfied that Lucky
Tyler hadn't followed her home. She
wouldn't put it past him to try something like

that. She'd driven home with one eye on the
road and the other on her rearview mirror.
The shock of seeing him standing at the
edge of her desk this afternoon had affected
her more than she wanted to admit. Usually
adept at masking her feelings, she feared she
hadn't been successful in hiding her reaction
to his unexpected appearance. Several of her
cohorts had noticed how rattled she was and
had teased her about it when she returned to
her office.
'Who's the hunk?'
'Nobody.'
'Nobody?'
'Just a man I know.'
'Someone out of your murky past, Devon?'
You could say it had been murky, she
thought now. But the 'past' had been as
recent as last week. None of her coworkers
would guess that.
Finally convinced he hadn't followed her
home, she walked toward the back of her
house, where the master suite was located.
Shedding her skirt and blouse, she gazed
longingly through the patio door toward the
swimming pool. A swim would cool her off.
She'd felt feverish ever since she'd looked up
expecting to see the gofer's affable face, and
instead had met Lucky Tyler's smoldering
blue stare. Several strenuous laps would relax

her. She was as jittery as a kitten, wondering
when he would pop up next.
He would. She knew he would.
She stepped into a pair of skimpy swim
trunks. After taking a towel from the lucite
rack in the bathroom, she slid open the patio
door and stepped out into her secluded
backyard, almost completely taken up by the
pool itself.
There was very little lawn to maintain, only
the shrubbery that grew along the cedar
privacy fence which let her indulge in
semi-nude swimming. On the deck she had a
gas grill and numerous potted plants.
Because her days were spent mostly indoors,
she enjoyed spending the evenings on her
deck, tending the plants, even reading
research material for her articles. Swimming
laps in the pool was also an excellent form of
exercise, and about the only one she liked.
Dropping the towel onto a chaise, she
dived into the deep end of the pool. The
cooling waters closed over her. Serenely she
glided along the bottom, swimming from one
end to the other in one breath. Only her head cleared the surface in the shallow
end, then,
taking another deep breath, she executed a
surface dive and went under again.
By the time she had swum several laps, her
lungs, heart, and limbs felt exercised and

were aching pleasurably from the exertion.
Peeling her sodden hair back with both
hands, she started up the steps in the shallow
end. She walked across the deck, head down.
Not until she almost stepped on his boots
did she notice him. Then her head snapped
up.
Lucky was sprawled in the patio chair
beside the chaise. He was half reclining on his
spine, his hands folded over his belt buckle,
his long legs stretched far out in front of him,
ankles crossed. Her towel was draped over
one of his thighs. Beneath a shelf of tawny
brows, his eyes were riveted on her bare
breasts.
Rousing himself, he lifted his gaze to hers.
'Towel?' he asked, extending it to her.
She snatched it from him and wound it
around her bare torso. 'What are you doing
here? How did you get in?' She distinctly
remembered checking to make sure all the
doors were locked and bolted.
'I climbed over the fence. How high is that
damn thing anyway? I landed hard. Think I
threw my knee out. Old football injury.'
His insouciance infuriated her. He acted as
though jumping her eight-foot privacy fence
was something he did every day at dusk. 'You
followed me home,' she accused him.
'How else would I find out where you live?

Since you sicced the guards on me, nobody at
the newspaper was going to give me your
address. You aren't listed in the telephone
directory. I checked.
'See, Devon, the first time I checked the
directory, I was looking for Mary Smith.
There're dozens of those. But I thought I'd
give Devon Haines a try. Sure enough, you
aren't there.' He ran a glance down her. 'Is it
heated?'
In the lavender glow of twilight, his eyes
shone like twin blue lanterns. They were
unsettling. In fact, she hadn't had a coherent
thought since he had showed up at her office.
The possible effects his reappearance could
have on her life filled her with dread. What a
fool she had been to lull herself into believing
that she could come away unscathed from her
earth-shattering experience with him.
Realizing that he was waiting for an answer to a question she couldn't remember,
she
said, 'Pardon?'
'The pool. Is it heated?'
'Why?'
'Because you've got goose bumps as big as
mosquito bites, and your lips are turning
blue.'
She pulled the towel tighter around her.
'The air is chilly.'
'Then we'd better go inside.'

'I'm going inside. You're leaving.'
'I want a drink, and from the looks of it,
you could use one.'
He casually slid open the patio door. 'After
you,' he said courteously, stepping aside.
Because she was chilled to the bone and
because she wanted to put on more clothes as
quickly as possible, she swept past him and reentered her bedroom.
'Where's the kitchen?'
'I asked you to leave, Mr. Tyler.'
'You don't want a drink?' He dropped into
the upholstered easy chair in the corner and
crossed an ankle over the opposite knee.
'Okay. We'll dispense with the drinks and
start our discussion here and now.'
It was hard to maintain her dignity, much
less her belligerent insistence that he leave,
when her teeth were chattering and her hair
was dripping icy rivulets of water onto her
shoulders and chest. His eyes kept straying to
her breasts. Devon was keenly aware that her
rigid nipples were making impressions against
the thick terry cloth.
'It's a small house,' she said scornfully. 'I'm
sure you can find the kitchen on your own.'
Smiling, he rolled out of the chair.
Standing only inches from her, he cupped his
hand around her shoulder and used his
thumb to whisk drops of water off the slope

of her breast. In a low, stirring voice he said,
'I like you wet.'
To demonstrate her immunity to him, she
slammed the door in his wake. He would
never know that because of his touch her
knees were about to liquefy. She dropped the
towel, peeled off the swim trunks, and
vigorously toweled herself. She dressed in a
two-piece velour lounger, because it was
quick, convenient, and warm. It also covered
her from neck to ankle. Not wanting to take
the time to dry her hair, she fashioned a
turban out of a towel.
The lamps in the living room had been
turned on, and Lucky was surveying her
compact-disc library. When he heard her
come in, he turned his head.
Their gazes locked. Seconds ticked off
ponderously while they continued to stare at
each other as if mesmerized.
Devon could remember things about him,
small things that only a lover would know, yet
he was a complete stranger to her. Suddenly,
and with a degree of desperation that shocked
her, she realized she was greedy for
information. She wanted to know every trivial
detail of Lucky Tyler's life.
All she really knew about him was that he
adhered to a code of chivalry that had almost
disappeared in contemporary America, that

he had a keen sense of humor and a pair of
startling blue eyes, and that his touch could
set her on fire. She couldn't easily dismiss
from her mind what had passed between
them on their night together . . . even though
she had no choice but to try and forget it.
His expression told her that he was also
finding it impossible to forget.
At last he said, 'All I could find was beer.'
He was drinking his from the bottle, but on
the faux marble block she used as a coffee
table, he'd set a cold beer and a glass. She
acknowledged her drink with a thank you, but
made no move toward it. 'Don't you want it?'
'What I want, Mr. Tyler, is to know why
you think you can so grossly invade my
privacy.' She complimented herself on sounding
imperious and cool.
'Is that what I've done?'
'What else would you call it? You've
harassed me at my office, and trespassed on
my private property.'
'So why haven't you called the police?'
He was also a cocky bastard, she decided.
He knew why she hadn't called the police.
His knowing smile grated on her. Forgetting
to be cool, she raised her voice. 'Why did you
follow me home?'
'Because I'm not finished with you.'
'Well, that's just too damn bad, Mr. Tyler,

because I was finished with you the
minute -- '
'You left my bed?'
She fell silent.
He took advantage of her speechlessness.
'Is that why you stayed with me that night?
Were you that hard up for a man? Would any
man have done?'
'No, no, and no!'
He responded as though she had said yes.
'Then, in the morning, once I'd done stud
duty for you, you figured it was all right to
sneak out.'
'You're wrong,' she said, stubbornly shaking
her head. 'I won't even honor that with a
denial.'
He set his beer on a shelf in the bookcase
and, in two strides, came even with her. His
hands bracketed her shoulders, lifting her
slightly up and forward. 'What else am I
supposed to think, huh? Why'd you hightail it
out of that motel room?'
'Because I was disgusted.'
He was taken aback by her answer. No
woman had ever said that to him. 'Disgusted?
With me?'
'With myself,' she lashed out. 'With the
situation. I didn't want to hash through it
again. If you make a habit of sleeping with
women you don't know, I'm sure you can

understand morning-after awkwardness.'
Gnawing on his inner cheek, he assimilated
what she'd said and apparently agreed with
her. Then, taking another tack, he asked,
'Why did you pull that disappearing act this
afternoon?'
'Because we had nothing more to talk
about.'
'Wrong.'
'Right.'
'Are you going to ask me to spend the
night tonight?'
'No!' she said, aghast.
'Then we've got something more to talk
about.'
"I think that's what's really bothering you,"
she said heatedly. 'You're certain that every
woman you meet is panting to go to bed with
you. Well, take a good look at the exception,
Mr. Tyler. You're only hounding me because I
walked out on you and not the other way
around. Your ego has been stung.'
'Maybe,' he admitted grudgingly. 'Partially.'
'Nurse it someplace else, with someone
else. I don't want to see you again. Haven't 1
made that plain enough?'
'Oh yeah. You've made it plain. But you
haven't convinced me, Devon. You haven't
even convinced yourself.'
He drew her forward with such force that

the towel slipped from her head and her hair
tumbled out of it. His mouth was damp and
demanding as it settled against her lips.
Far from resenting his aggressiveness, she
responded to it, reveling in his potency and
his blatant hunger for her. Instead of pulling
away, as her mind dictated that she should,
she treated herself to the heat and urgency of
his kisses.
His hands slid beneath her top to splay
open across her back and hold her closer to
him. She loved his touch on her skin and
longed to take the same kind of liberties with
him. He was tough, all sinew and muscle. Her
curves molded pliantly to his manliness. She
loved the rasp of his stubble against her face,
the taste of his mouth, the scent of his skin.
She was starved for his masculinity.
When he raised the hem of her top, she felt
the cold, exciting bite of his metal belt buckle
against her bare midriff. Then his hands
moved over her breasts -- reshaping,
stroking, teasing, then gratifying by drawing
his thumbs across her nipples.
'Devon,' he murmured roughly when he
felt their beading reaction through the silk
cup of her bra. 'Why are you making this so
hard?'
She yanked herself away from him, backing
up as though he represented something

terrifying, which he did. Oddly enough, he
was smiling.
CI didn't mean that in a crude or lewd way.
I meant 'hard' as in difficult.'
'I know what you meant,' she said
breathlessly, unable to find her full voice. 'It's
not only difficult, it's impossible. I told you
that earlier. Now, please go, and don't bother
me again.'
'You're bothered all right.'
She followed his gaze down to her swollen
breasts, defined so well against the soft cloth
of her pullover. She would be lying to herself
as well as to him to deny that she desired
him. On a near-sob she said, 'Please go.'
'Devon, forget how and where we met.
Think only about how it was when we woke
up in bed together and turned to each other.'
She closed her hands over her ears. 'I
can't.'
'Why?' He forced her hands back down to
her sides. 'Why, when it was so damn good,
won't you let yourself remember?'
'I don't owe you any explanations.'
'The hell you don't,' he said, his voice low
and fierce. 'The kiss you just gave me makes a
lie out of everything you're saying. You're
hungry for me. As hungry as I am for you. I
believe that entitles me to an explanation.'
His incisive arguments, combined with his

sex appeal, were weakening her resolve.
Pulling her hands free of his and lashing out
defensively, she cried, 'I can't see you
anymore. Ever. Now, please go away.'
Lucky switched tactics. Hooking his
thumbs in his belt loops, he assumed a
slouching stance, his body thrown slightly
off-center. Arrogantly he tilted his head to
one side.
'Okay, for the sake of argument, let's say
that the kisses we've shared didn't leave us
both damned near senseless. Let's say that
your blood's not running hot and thick right
now. Let's forget all that and focus our
attention on my problem -- besides the one I
have with you, that is. Let's discuss how badly
I need you for my alibi.'
She was shaking her head long before he
finished, first in denial of her physical
reactions to him, then to the idea of her
testifying to the authorities on his behalf.
'No one can know that I spent the night
with you,' she said adamantly. 'No one. Is that
understood? I certainly can't make it a matter
of public record.' Her previous chill, temporarily
dispelled by their embrace, returned.
She ran her hands up and down her arms as
though to restore circulation.
'You can't just shrug off this arson rap as a
frivolous misfortune of mine.'

'I'm not. I'm terribly sorry that you're in
trouble.'
'More than just trouble, Devon. These
federal guys are damned serious.'
'What kind of case have they got against
you?'
'Flimsy and circumstantial,' he admitted. 'I
would never get convicted, but I don't expect
we could raise bail. I do not cotton to the
idea of going to jail for any length of time,
especially for something I didn't do. I don't
even like the idea of being charged with a
felony. My family, our business, would be
irreparably damaged by something like that.'
Gently he took her by the shoulders again.
'Devon, be reasonable about this. You've got
to help me.'
'No I don't. You can't force me.'
'I shouldn't have to. Why won't you just
come forward like any decent person would?'
'I can't!'
'Tell me why.'
'I can't!'
'Why}'
'Because I'm married!'

'She's married.'
Lucky's two glum words echoed as
dismally as a death knell. Seated at the bar in
Tanya and Chase's small apartment kitchen,
he stared forlornly into the cup of coffee his
sister-in-law had brewed for him.
He had arrived at their apartment complex
before dawn. Ignoring the early hour, he'd
knocked on their door and got them out of
bed, his unkempt hair and stubble of beard
chasing away their annoyance at having been
awakened so early.
Besides looking as though he needed a
shave, a hot meal, and twelve hours of sleep,
Lucky had hair windblown from driving all
the way from Dallas, a distance of over a
hundred miles, with the top of his convertible
down, going at speeds they dared not guess
and would rather not know. Strands of dark
blond hair were radiating from his head like
straw.
His family had been worried about him
since yesterday morning. The last one to see
him had been Sage. According to her, he had
left the house half-dressed, at a dead run, and

without a word of explanation.
Now several moments transpired before
Chase repeated his brother's bleak report.
'Married?'
'Married. You know, matrimony, holy
wedlock.'
Tanya, having poured her husband and
herself another cup of coffee, sat down on
one of the barstools. 'How do you know,
Lucky?'
'She told me.' After a lengthy, deep, wet
kiss, he thought bitterly.
'You finally tracked her down?'
'Yesterday.'
'Where?'
'Dallas.'
'What's her name?'
'Devon Haines.'
'That sounds familiar.'
'You've probably read her newspaper
column.'
'Sure!' Chase exclaimed, thumping the bar
with his fist. 'Devon Haines.'
'I accidentally stumbled over her byline
and picture in yesterday morning's paper.'
Lucky recounted the rest of the story to
them, leaving out the personal aspects of it
and glossing over the tempestuous hours he'd
spent in a bowling alley and batting barn
-- so he'd have something to hit legitimately

-- after his meeting with her and until he
decided to drive home.
'The lady did not want to be found,' he
said. 'When I did find her, she refused to
cooperate, said she wouldn't, couldn't, be my
alibi. Now I know why.' The coffee was
scalding hot, but he tossed it back as though
the mug were a shot glass full of whiskey.
Tanya silently rose to get him a refill.
'Did you meet her husband?' Chase wanted
to know.
'No.'
'Was he there?'
'No.'
'Where was he?'
'I don't know.'
'What's his name?'
'I don't know.'
'If she's married, what was she doing
sleeping with you?'
'I don't know that either. Who the hell can
figure out what goes on inside a woman's head?'
Angrily Lucky flung himself off the
barstool and began to prowl the length of
the galley kitchen. 'This is one situation
I've never run across. I don't have any
experience, and I'm stumped.' He stopped
pacing to address his audience. 'Don't get
me wrong. I'm not claiming to be an angel.
I confess to having done some pretty wild

things with women.'

'I don't think anyone could dispute that.'

'We've done some pretty wild things
together.'

Chase cast an uncomfortable glance
toward his wife. His love for Tanya McDaniel
had tamed the former rodeo star considerably.
'If it's all the same to you, I'd just as
soon not discuss our escapades in front of
Tanya.'

'Those escapades aren't the point,' Lucky
said irritably. 'Tanya knows you were a
hell-raiser before she came along. My point is
that for all my carousing, I have never slept
with a married woman. I drew the line at
that.' Mindlessly he rubbed his stomach, as
though the very thought of adultery made
him queasy.

'I never would even go out with a divorcee
until the final, final papers were final. So this
broad,' he said irreverently, aiming his index
finger in the general direction of Dallas, 'not
only duped me with the phony name bit, but
tricked me into doing something that,
old-fashioned as it sounds, I believe is
morally wrong.'

He returned to his seat, dejectedly
throwing himself onto the padded cushion.
Eyes vacant and bleary, he contemplated near
space.

'Lucky,' Chase ventured after a lengthy
period of silence, 'what are you going to do?'
'Probably ten to twenty for arson.'
'Don't say that!'Tanya cried. 'You can't go
to prison for something you didn't do.'
'You know what I meant, Lucky,' Chase
said. 'You can't let her off the hook that
easily. She fooled around, so she can damn
well pay the consequences.'
'I used that argument.'
'And?'
'It got me nowhere.'
'Appeal to her basic human decency.'
'I did that too. Didn't shake her a smidgen.
If she would run around on her husband, I
doubt she has a sense of decency. Although,'
he added on a mumble, 'she seemed decent
enough at first.'
'Well, if worse comes to worst, Pat Bush
could subpoena her.'
'To appear before a federal grand jury.'
Lucky sighed and tiredly dug his fingertips
into his eye sockets, which were shadowed by
fatigue. 'I was hoping it wouldn't have to go
even that far. With business so bad . . . ' He
lowered his hands and looked at his brother.
'I'm sorry, Chase. I really screwed up this
time. And the worst of it is that I'm dragging
Tyler Drilling, you, and everybody else down
With me.'

Chase rose from his barstool and affectionately
slapped his younger brother between the
shoulder blades. 'Your hide is more valuable
to me than the business. I'm worried about
the guy who actually set the fire. What's the
bastard planning to do next?' He consulted
the wall clock. 'Guess I'd better get on out
there and baby-sit those investigators.'

'I'll be along later.'

'Uh-uh. You're taking the day off.'

'Says who?'

'Says me.'

'You're not my boss.'

'Today I am.'

They'd been playing that universal sibling
game almost since they were old enough to
talk. Lucky gave in much sooner than usual.

Chase said, 'You look like hell. Stay home
today. Get some sleep.' Turning, he headed
for the bedroom. 'If you're gone by the time I
get out of the shower, I'll be in touch later
today.'

After Chase had withdrawn, Tanya smiled
at her brother-in-law. 'What would you like
for breakfast?'

'Nothing,' he replied, getting to his feet.
'Thanks, though.' At the front door of the
apartment, he pulled her into a hug. 'I should
take a cue from my big brother, find a woman
like you, marry her, and quit screwing around

for good. Problem is, since you've been taken,
there aren't any good broads left.'
Laughing, she shoved him away. 'Lucky, I
seriously doubt you'll sweep a woman off her
feet by referring to her as a broad.'
He smiled, but there was more chagrin
than humor behind it. His blue eyes were
tired and dull and puzzled. 'Tanya, why
would a married woman share a motel room
with a total stranger in the first place, then let
him make love to her?'
'It happens all the time, Lucky. Don't you read the statistics?'
'I know, but . . . ' He gauged her worried
frown. 'I know you probably feel uncomfortable
talking about this with me, but I feel like
a jerk discussing it with another man, even
Chase. Will you listen? Please?'
'Of course.'
He hesitated, but only momentarily.
'Devon just wasn't the type to pick up a
stranger and go to bed with him. I've been
with plenty of women who do it routinely,
and she was different.'
'How so?'
'In every way. Looks. Attitude. Actions.' He
shook his head in bafflement. 'Why would she
take a life-threatening risk like that? For all
she knew, I was a psychopath, or had a
venereal disease or God knows what else.

She's married. She and her husband live well.
She's got a successful career. Why would she
risk all that? And if she's got the guts to do it,
why get squeamish when it's time to 'fess up?'
'I don't know, Lucky,' Tanya said, sounding
genuinely sorry that she couldn't provide him
with an answer. 'I can't imagine being
unfaithful to Chase. I can't imagine even
being tempted.'
He squinted his eyes with concentration. 'I
don't think she planned it to happen. It
wasn't like she was on the make. In fact, she
tried everything she could to avoid me. She's
almost militant in her feminism, takes issue
with sexual labels, things like that. Real
defensive about it.' He paused, carefully
choosing words to describe Devon Haines to
Tanya.
'She's put together well, you know? Dresses
professionally. Seems to have every situation
under control. I certainly couldn't call her
flighty.' He blew out a gust of air, indicative of
the depth of his confusion.
'She's just not whimsical. And it's not like
she seduced me, or even vice-versa. I mean, it
just sorta happened. We were both half-asleep
and kinda rolled toward each other, and I
started touching her, kissing her, and she
started responding, and before we knew it, we
were . . . you know.'

During his speech Tanya had been
watching him closely. 'Lucky,' she asked
softly, 'which bothers you most? The fact that
she declines to come forward and clear you?
Or the fact that she's married?'
He abruptly pulled his chin back a notch.
'What do you mean by that?'
'For the past week you've been obsessed
with finding out who this woman is and
where she lives.'
'Because she's my alibi.'
'Are you sure that's the only reason?'
'Yes. Hell yes.' He reached for the
doorknob and pulled the door open. 'Listen,
Tanya, I don't want you or anybody else to
get any romantic notions about her.'
'I see.'
'I mean it.'
'I understand.'
'That's it. She's my alibi. Period.' Standing
silhouetted in the open doorway, he made an
umpire's 'safe' motion with his hands. When
he did, he rapped his knuckles against the
doorframe. 'Ouch! Damn!' Sucking on an
injured knuckle, he added, 'Besides, as it
turns out, she's married.'
A few moments later Chase, rubbing dry
his dark hair with a towel, wearing another
around his middle, came to Tanya's side. She
was standing in the doorway, watching

Lucky's taillights disappear around the
nearest corner.

'What was all the shouting about?' he
asked.

'That was Lucky,' she said, closing the
door. 'He was adamantly denying that this
woman means anything more to him than an
alibi.'

'Does he think you're hard of hearing?'

She laughed. 'No, but I think he is.'

'Huh?'

'He's not listening to his heart.'

'I don't get your meaning.'

'You're not supposed to,' she replied coyly.
'You're a man.'

'You know, that secret little smile of yours
drives me crazy.' He bent down to nuzzle her
neck. 'Makes me horny as hell.'

'I know,' she whispered back, moving
against him seductively. 'Why do you think I
wear it so often?'

Chase dropped both the towels and carried
her into their bedroom.

Half an hour later the covers were
helplessly tangled around their naked
bodies, but neither noticed or cared. They
were sated. While Tanya lay on her back,
eyes closed, Chase idly caressed her breasts,
which bore the faint, rosy markings of
recent lovemaking.

'I feel sorry for Lucky,' she remarked
dreamily.
'So do I. He's got himself in a real jam.'
'I'm not talking strictly about the fire. One
way or another, he'll be exonerated. This
might represent a setback in his life, but that's
all it'll be.'
'Then why do you feel sorry for him?'
She opened her eyes and looked at her
husband, reaching up to lovingly brush damp
strands of hair off his forehead. 'I think the
encounter with this Haines woman has had
more of an impact than he's willing to admit.
And even if he does admit it, whether
publicly or to himself, there's nothing he can
do about it. It was finished before it started.'
'Define 'it.' '
She shrugged. 'A meaningful relationship, I
suppose.'
'A meaningful relationship? With a woman?
My brother?' Laughing, Chase rolled onto his
back.
Tanya propped herself up on one elbow.
'You think the notion is that ridiculous?'
'As long as there's more than one living,
breathing female alive on planet Earth, Lucky
will never be faithful to just one.'
'I think you're doing him an injustice. He's
more sensitive than you think. And he can be
Very loyal.'

'Oh, I agree. He can be very loyal to several
women at one time.' Laughter lurked beneath
his serious words. 'Did I ever tell you how
Lucky got his nickname?'
'Come to think of it, no.'
'You never wondered why a James
Lawrence would be nicknamed Lucky?'
'I took it for granted. For as long as I've
known you, that's what you and everyone else
has called him.'
Stacking both hands behind his head,
Chase laughed softly. 'I was in tenth grade.
He was in ninth, about fourteen, I guess.
There was this girl, a woman really, about
twenty, who lived in Kilgore. To put it
bluntly, she was a tramp. She worked at being
a tramp. Real hot-looking. Dressed to display
her endowments. She kept all the boys in
several counties in a constant state of arousal,
but never came across with the goods.
'So one night, me and some of my friends
decided to take a car -- we couldn't legally
drive yet -- and go to Kilgore for a look-see
at this gal. Lucky begged to come along. We
finally agreed after he threatened to squeal
our plans to our parents.
'Off we went. After driving around Kilgore
for an hour, we found her. She was strutting
her stuff at one of the local bowling alleys. All
of us ogled until our eyes were bugging out

and our tongues were lolling. But Lucky was
the only one who worked up the courage to
speak to her. Damned if the rascal didn't end
up smooth-talking his way into her car, then
into her house.
'Positively awestruck, we followed them
there. He stayed inside for two hours. The kid
who'd sneaked out the family car was in a
panic to get back to Milton Point before his
folks discovered it missing. He finally started
honking the horn. When Lucky came out
from around back, he was pulling on his shirt
and wearing this very smug grin on his face.
'It made me mad as hell that my little
brother had succeeded in doing what so many
others had tried to do and failed. I said, 'Quit
grinning, you little bastard. You just lucked
out, is all.' 'Call me Lucky,' he said, still
wearing that complacent grin.'
Tanya was trying to look horrified while
suppressing a giggle. 'You're both incorrigible.
How did you explain his new nickname to
your parents?'
'I forget now what explanation we came up
with. Anyway, from that night forward, the
name stuck. He's been Lucky to everybody.'
Tanya sighed, resting her head on Chase's
hairy chest and sadly recalling what had
prompted the story. 'I don't think he's feeling
very lucky these days.'

'No,' Chase agreed. Folding his arms
around her, he held her close. 'But I am.'

Devon had reams of research material to
read, dozens of periodicals to peruse, and
thousands of words to compose, but she
couldn't concentrate on anything except her
encounter with Lucky the evening before.
In her mind she continued to see his face
as it had looked when she told him she was
married. His expression had been a mix of
incredulity and outrage. His eyes, initially
blank with stupefaction, had grown frigid by
degrees, until they achieved that hard, cold
glare that she shivered beneath even in
recollection.
Feeling restless, she left the enclosure of
her office and took the long route through
the city room to the alcove of vending
machines. Desultorily she inserted the
required coinage into the refrigerated box.
The coins dropped into the concealed bin
with a metallic echo that sounded as hollow
as she felt. Coworkers spoke to her as she
passed their desks on her way back. She
pretended not to hear.
'Hey, Devon, what happened with the
blond hunk yesterday?'

Ignoring that question, she closed her
office door behind her to discourage interruption
and returned to her desk, setting aside
the cold drink. She hadn't really been thirsty.
Getting the drink had merely been a
diversion from her haunting thoughts.
'I'm married.'
Bending her head over her desk and
holding it between her hands, she repeated
the words. 'I'm married. I'm married.'
And yet she wasn't. The license was signed.
The judge had pronounced her wed. It was
official. As far as the sovereign state of Texas
was concerned, she was married.
'But I'm not,' she whispered with frustration.
It was a marriage she could easily get out
of. She certainly had the grounds to seek an
annulment. Anyone who heard her case
would sympathize. No one acquainted with
the facts would condemn her.
She, Devon Haines alone, was standing in
the way of her own freedom from a marriage
that amounted to no more than a piece of
paper. But it was the right thing to do. She
had walked into it with both eyes open.
Whether or not it was a bad decision, she had
to live with it.
Lucky Tyler didn't know the conditions of
her marital status. He probably wouldn't

care. He condemned her for being an
unfaithful married woman who had duped
him into sharing a night of sin and was now
unwilling to pay the price. There was no way
she could help him without jeopardizing
herself and her husband.
She'd seen the contempt in Lucky's eyes.
She could have dispelled it with a few simple
sentences of explanation, but she had held
her silence.
He hadn't realized the truth.
When he entered her, he had mistaken the
reason for the sudden tensing of her body. He
had obviously taken it for passion, not pain.
He had misinterpreted her sharp, gasping
breath. His previous kisses had prepared her
to receive him too well. She was so moist, he
hadn't noticed the snugness.
By the time he was buried deep inside her
and moving within, it had been too late to
consider the consequences of what she was
doing. Like him, she had become oblivious to
everything except the undulating, swelling
sensations that had engulfed them.
She was glad the alarming truth had been
obscured by eroticism. If he knew that she
was a virgin, this cloudy situation could turn
turbulent. Then again, she wished with all her
heart that he knew.
Memories of their lovemaking caused a

bittersweet ache in the center of her soul. She
marveled over it, exulted in the pleasure, and
lamented its brevity.
Her office door was suddenly flung open.
'You asked to see this article when the copy
editor was finished.'
She raised her head and brushed the tears
off her cheeks, reaching for the papers. 'Oh
yes, thanks,' she told the gofer.
'Say, are you okay?'
'I'm fine.'
'Sure?'
She gave him a watery smile and
reassured him before he left. Self-pity was
an emotion she refused to surrender to. She
had welcomed Lucky's fierce, yet tender
loving. Because on that night, above all
other nights, she had so desperately needed
loving.
But wasn't it poignantly ironic that in the
arms of a stranger she had glimpsed what
could be -- should be -- and wasn't?

'Lucky!'
He groaned and covered his tousled head
with his pillow. It was immediately wrestled
from his grasp. 'Go away,' he snarled.
'Will you please wake up and tell this

woman to stop calling?'
He rolled to his back and blinked his
disgruntled sister into focus. She was
standing beside his bed, glaring down at him,
her mood as tenuous as the narrow straps of
her bikini.
'What woman?' he asked hopefully, reaching
for the receiver of the telephone extension
on his nightstand.
'Susan Young.'
If the telephone had suddenly turned into a
cobra ready to strike, he couldn't have
snatched his hand back any quicker.
Sage, with supreme exasperation, plugged
in the cord he had previously disconnected,
lifted the receiver, and, without bothering to
cover the mouthpiece, said, 'She's been
making a nuisance of herself by calling every
hour on the hour for two whole days. Will you
please talk to her so I can sunbathe in peace?'
She thrust the phone at him. He caught it,
juggled it against his bare chest, then
mouthed 'brat' as he raised it to his ear.
'Susan,' he said in a voice that would melt
butter twenty yards away, 'how are you?
Thanks for calling. I was just thinking about
you.'
Sage poked her index finger into her open
mouth, mimicking gagging herself, then
sat down on the edge of the mattress,

unabashedly eavesdropping on her brother's
conversation.
His temperament was touchy at best, but
she wasn't intimidated by his formidable
frown. 'What's been going on?' he said into
the receiver.
He listened for a moment, but cut into
Susan's diatribe. 'I know I haven't been
around and haven't called. I wanted to
protect you from this mess.'
'If she falls for that, she's not only devious,
she's stupid.'
Lucky shot his sister a threatening look.
'Until this mess blows over, I didn't think we
should see each other. I didn't want to involve
you . . . Yeah, I know what you offered to tell
them, but -- ' He listened for another while.
'Susan, I can't let you do that. I think too
much of you.'
'Oh please.' Sage groaned. 'What's she
offering to do? Bed the feds?'
Overriding his sister's sarcastic words,
Lucky said, 'Give me an hour . . . Promise.
I'll be there in an hour.' Thoughtfully he
replaced the receiver and continued to stare
at it until Sage spoke.
'Well? What was that all about?'
'None of your business. Will you kindly
haul yourself off my bed, so I can get up and
get dressed?'

'How juvenile. I've seen you in skivvies
before.'
'For your information, Miss Sophistication,
I came to bed straight from the shower, and
am buck naked beneath this sheet. Now,
unless you want to be educated, get the hell
out of here. I told Susan I'd be at her house
in an hour.'
'Really!' said Sage, taking umbrage. 'Do
you think I've lived under a rock? Male
nudity doesn't shock or offend me. I know
what all the parts look like and how they
work.'
Lucky frowned as he took in her skimpy
attire. 'Listen here, young lady, I expect you
to behave yourself in a manner becoming a
lady when it comes to the opposite sex,' he
said sternly.
'Ha! You're a fine one to talk. Do you
behave yourself like a gentleman?'
'Do you run around the wild young studs
dressed like that?' he demanded, nodding
down at her bikini.
'You gawk at women in bikinis.'
'So? Male prerogative.'
'Like hell!' Sage exclaimed. 'That's a
double standard.'
A mental image of Devon emerging from
the swimming pool, peeling back her wet hair
with both hands; buttocks and mound

covered by triangles of bronze, metallic
fabric; breasts bare, heavy, gleaming, beaded
with sparkling drops of water.
Sage was right. He had gawked, and it was
a double standard. But that didn't keep his
body from reacting to the alluring mental
picture.
'You gotta leave now,' he said in a voice so
low it sounded like a growl.
'Here lately, you're such a grouch.' She left
the bed and flounced toward the door.
However, she pulled up short and turned
back, her expression no longer irritable, but
sympathetic.
'Chase came by at lunch to check on you.
Mother and I told him you were sleeping. He
said not to wake you up, that you needed the
rest. He, uh, he told us about the Haines
woman, Lucky. I'm sorry.'
Despite his foul mood, he winked at her.
'Thanks, brat. I appreciate your concern.'
Once Sage had closed the door, he flung
back the sheet and went to his bureau. It took him a long time to dress because
he often
found himself standing motionless staring
into space, or forgetting what he'd gone to
the closet for, or wondering why he was
searching through a particular drawer. His
mind kept straying back to Devon. Damn, he
still wanted to see her.

Instead, he had to go see Susan. After
avoiding her and her preposterous marriage
proposal for more than a week, he acknowledged
that he couldn't delay dealing with it
any longer.

'Jeez, I dread this,' he muttered to himself
as he finally left his bedroom and loped down
the stairs.

He didn't realize until later just how much
his dread had been warranted.

It was almost as though she had expected
him.
Devon didn't react with as much surprise
as he had anticipated. Her car rolled to a halt
beside his where he was parked at the curb in front of her condo. She gazed at
him for a
moment, her expression revealing little,
before she pulled into the driveway.
Lucky stepped out of his Mustang and
moved toward the garage door that had
opened automatically for Devon's car. They
met in the driveway. Obviously she had just
come from work. She was dressed in a suit,
although she was carrying, not wearing, the
jacket. Sunglasses held her hair away from her
face. Her other hand held a large, flat pizza
box.
'Hi,' he said, his expression solemn.
'Hello.'
'I, uh . . . ' He shuffled and glanced up at
the storm clouds darkening the sky. 'Is your
husband at home?'
'No.'
'I don't want to make this any more
difficult for you than it has to be.'

'Then what are you doing here?'
'I've got to talk to you.' He drew his lips
tight and said through his teeth, 'Dammit,
you've got to help me, Devon.'
She glanced around worriedly, as though
prying eyes might be peeking at them from
the other houses on the block. Finally she
nodded curtly.
'Come on in.' She led him through the
garage, lowered the door by depressing the
switch on the wall, and asked him to hold the
pizza while she unlocked the kitchen door.
He followed her inside and deposited the
pizza on the white tile countertop.
She nicked another switch. Cold blue
fluorescent lighting nickered on. 'I'll be back
in a minute.'
She disappeared through a doorway. Lucky
moved to the window overlooking her
backyard. It had started to rain. Fat drops
bounced on the water in the pool and
splattered on the deck. They were such
opulent drops, they bent down the leaves of
her plants. A jagged streak of lightning
divided the sky just above the horizon.
Moments later it was followed by a drumroll
of thunder.
'Are you hungry?'
He turned. She had come into the kitchen
behind him, having changed into a pair of old

jeans, a loose pullover, and a pair of soft
leather moccasins. Her hair looked freshly
brushed. Without the armor of her business
suit she looked younger, more vulnerable.
'I guess. Hadn't thought about it.'
'Do you like pepperoni pizza?'
'Sure.'
'Give me a minute to make a salad.'
Lucky was dumbfounded. Was she actually
inviting him to stay for supper? He'd
expected her to slam the door in his face -- if
she'd been the one to answer it. If he had
encountered her husband on the other side of
the threshold, he planned to ask directions or
something equally as ludicrous.
When he hadn't got an answer after ringing
her doorbell, he had decided to wait and see
who turned up first and play it by ear from
there. Being invited to dinner hadn't even
crossed his mind as a possibility.
She had removed salad greens and
tomatoes from the refrigerator and was
calmly tearing lettuce into a bowl. He said,
'You don't seem surprised to see me.'
'I'm not.'
He propped his hip against the counter.
'How come?'
'You said you never take no for an answer
from a woman.' She lifted her eyes to his. 'I
believe you. Excuse me.' She nudged him

aside, reached into the refrigerator again and
took out a bottle of salad dressing, and, to his
further astonishment, a bottle of red wine.
She passed it to him, along with a corkscrew,
which she took from a drawer. 'Would you
please?'
Mystified by her composure, Lucky peeled
the sealing material off the wine bottle and
twisted the corkscrew into the cork. He
watched her set the table with two place
settings. She placed several slices of pizza in
the microwave oven to warm.
'Glasses?'
'Beneath the cabinet.'
He noticed then that two rows of wineglass
stems were hanging upside down from a rack
mounted on the underside of the cabinet. He
slid out two and poured each of them a glass
of wine. Devon lighted a candle, placed it in
the center of the table, and motioned him
into a chair.
Lucky approached the table, bringing with
him the two glasses of wine, along with the
bottle, and sat down in the chair she'd
indicated. She sat down across from him and
began serving his plate from the large salad
bowl. Once both their plates were filled with
salad and pizza, he reached across the table
and caught her hand in the act of reaching for
her wineglass.

'What gives with you?' he asked tautly.
'What do you mean?'
'What happens if your husband comes
home and finds us sharing a cozy candlelight
dinner?'
'Would that bother you?'
'A whole hell of a lot.'
'He won't.'
'You're sure?'
'I'm sure. He won't be home tonight.' She
pulled her hand back, reached for her glass,
and sipped the wine.
The mingling, mouth-watering aromas of
oregano and mozzarella had reminded Lucky
that he hadn't eaten all day. He took a huge
bite of pizza and washed it down with a
swallow of wine. Wine wasn't his beverage of
choice, but it seemed appropriate to drink
when the woman he was sharing his meal
with had hair the same deep red color.
'It's good,' he said politely.
'Thank you.'
'Do you do this often?'
She bit into a slice of pizza, pulling on the
stringy cheese until it eventually broke off.
'What? Bring pizza home for dinner?'
Lucky munched on his own chewy bite,
swallowed, and said with a patience he didn't
feel, 'No, have men over for dinner when your
husband is out of town.'

'I didn't say he was out of town. I just said
he wouldn't be home tonight.'
Tired of her word games, he set his fists on
either side of his plate and glared at her until
she looked up at him. 'Do you do this often?'
She held out for a few moments more
before answering. Eventually her stubbornness
surrendered to his. 'You're the first man
I've had to dinner in this house. Now, does
that salve your ego, or whatever the hell it is
that causes you to badger me about things
that are none of your business?'
'Yeah, thanks.'
'You're welcome.'
'I'm flattered.'
'Don't be. I just knew you wouldn't go
away without first having your 'talk.' I was
hungry.' She shrugged, letting him draw his
own conclusion. 'It's certainly not a violation
of the marriage vows for two adults to share a
pizza.'
'Unless those same two adults have shared
a pillow.'
Her eyes connected with his and reflected
the glazed shock of a nocturnal animal caught
in headlights bearing down on it.
To increase her astonishment even more,
lightning struck nearby. Following a rending
sound like the cracking of a bullwhip, all the
lights went out except for the steadily burning

flame of the candle.
'Are you all right?' Lucky asked, stunned by the sudden absence of the sterile
fluorescent lighting.
'Of course. I'm fine.' She didn't look fine.
The hand that reached for her wineglass was
trembling.
'Devon.' Acting on instinct, he reached
across the table to capture her hand. It was
cold. He enfolded it in the warmth of his.
After glancing over each of her chilled
fingertips with his thumb, he settled it in the
cup of her palm, stroking evocatively. 'About
that, Devon . . . '
'About what?'
'About us sharing a pillow, a bed. You don't
have anything to worry about.' Her head
tilted quizzically. 'I mean about birth control
or anything. I took care of that. I didn't know
if you were aware of -- '
'Yes, yes, I was,' she stammered. 'Thank
you. You behaved . . . ' She faltered and
swallowed with difficulty. 'You were a perfect
gentleman about that.'
His crooked grin was self-deprecating. 'If
I'd been a perfect gentleman, I wouldn't have
tracked you down, tricked my way into your
room, and coerced you into letting me stay
the night.'
'You were injured. By the way, how's the

knife wound?' She lowered her gaze to his
midsection.
'It's okay. You can barely see it anymore.'
'Oh.'
He didn't know at exactly what point in the
conversation they had started whispering. It
was silly, really, but somehow the topic, the
setting, and the mood called for soft,
confidential voices.
They simultaneously realized that their
eyes seemed locked to each other and that he
was still stroking her palm. Guiltily she pulled
her hand from his grasp, though he was
reluctant to let it go. Taking his cue from her,
he resumed eating, but his appetite for food
had deserted him, to be replaced by hunger
for her.
The only sounds in the silent house were
those of the rain pelting the windows and of
cutlery against their plates. However, if sexual
awareness and suppressed longings were
capable of generating sound, the noise would
have been as blaring as a brass band.
'More pizza?' she asked.
'No thanks.'
'Salad?'
He shook his head. As she cleared the
dishes from the table, he refilled both their
wineglasses. When she returned to the table,
he noticed their reflections in the window

glass. It was a portrait of intimacy, a man and
a woman sharing a candlelight dinner. Devon
noticed it too.
'Appearances can be deceiving.'
'Yes,' she answered softly.
After a moment he said, 'Devon, I'm going
to shoot straight with you. You don't know me
very well, but I assure you that shooting straight
is not something I usually do with a woman.'
'I don't find that at all hard to believe.' She
was smiling as she raised her wineglass to her
lips.
'No, I guess not,' he said ruefully. Leaning
back in his chair, he contemplated the
candle's flame through the ruby contents of
his wineglass. 'There's this girl in Milton
Point that I've been seeing for a couple of
months.'
'Rest assured that I don't intend to make
trouble between you and your girlfriend.'
'That's not what this is about,' he said
crossly.
'Then why bring it up?'
'Because you need to know about her.'
'What makes you think I'm interested in
your romances?'
'This isn't about romance. Just hear me
out, okay? Then you'll get your turn.' She
gave him a small nod of concession. 'This
girl's daddy is a big shot at the bank that's

holding a loan on my business.'

'Is that why you were dating her?'

He got the impression that she would be
disappointed if he said yes. 'No. I started
seeing Susan because she was one of the few
available women in town that I hadn't been to
bed with yet.'

She cast her eyes downward. 'I see.'

'I told you I was going to shoot straight,
Devon.'

'And I appreciate your honesty,' she replied
huskily. 'Go on.'

'Susan is spoiled rotten. Accustomed to
winding her daddy and everybody else
around her little finger. Selfish. Self-centered.'
He could go on and on, but felt that he had
captured the essence of Susan's personality
and didn't want to be accused of overkill.
'Anyway, she's made up her mind that she
wants to be Mrs. Lucky Tyler.'

'Why?'

He shrugged. 'My sister says because it
would distinguish her.'

'That's considered a distinction in Milton
Point?'

'By some,' he said testily.

'I take it you're not too keen on the idea of
marrying her.'

'There's no chance in hell that I'm going to
marry her.'

'Have you told her that?'
'Twice.'
'Apparently she doesn't take no for an
answer either.'
His temper snapped. Scowling, he said,
'I'm pouring out my guts here, trying to
explain things to you, and all you can do is
make these snide little remarks.'
'Your romantic intrigues might be fascinating
to some women, but I don't see what your
problems with this Susan have to do with
me.'
'I'm getting to that.'
'Please do.'
'Last week Susan volunteered to lie to the
authorities, saying that she had slept with me
the night of the fire.'
'In exchange for a wedding ring, I
suppose.'
'Bingo.'
'To which you said . . . ?'
'Nothing. I didn't take it seriously. I
thought maybe if I ignored her, she'd give up
and go away.'
'No such luck?'
'No such luck. Today she called and
insisted on seeing me.'
'What happened?'
'She's threatened to tell another lie. Only
this time she says she'll tell them that I

outlined to her my plan to torch our garage
and use the insurance money to pay off the
bank note.'
'They would never believe her.'
'The hell they wouldn't. To their way of
thinking, she would be making an ultimate
sacrifice. She's willing to squander her
reputation as a Goody Two Shoes by making
it public that she's been sleeping with me.'
'Has she?'
He could tell that she regretted asking the
question almost before she'd completed it.
That gave him a glimmer of hope. She cared
enough to wonder about his other lovers.
Could she also be a tad jealous?
'No, Devon. I've never slept with her. I
swear.' His eyes bore deeply into hers, trying
to impress the truth into her mind. Her next
question indicated that she had been
persuaded.
'Then what have you got to worry about?'
'Plenty. Susan can be very convincing.
Hell, this afternoon, I almost believed her
myself when she began to cry and say that
she couldn't hold in her ugly secret any
longer.
' 'I can't go through the rest of my life with
this on my conscience,' she said, or words to
that effect. She was talking like it was fact,
going on and on about how unhappy I'd

made her by confiding my nefarious plan to
her.'
Devon's fingers absently trailed up and
down the stem of her wineglass while she
pondered what he'd told her. 'I presume that
the only way Susan would be happy again is if
you proposed marriage, in which case she would
conveniently forget that you're an arsonist.'
'That was the implication, yeah. If we were
formally engaged, she would switch her
stories to 'protect' me.'
'At the same time protecting your business
from bankruptcy.'
He nodded grimly. 'I dismissed her threats
until today. This afternoon I saw just how
destructive she could be.'
'Hell hath no fury, et cetera.'
'Especially since I was supposed to be
having dinner with her when I was in bed
with you.'
Devon's lips parted, but remained speechless.
'When she found out about that, well, that
really capped it. My sister, Sage, tried to warn
me about Susan. I laughed off her warnings. I
shouldn't have. Susan is devious and
audacious, willing to go to any lengths to get
what she's after.
'Damn my own hide, I made it easy for her
to trap me, and at the same time bring down
my whole family. Out of pure spite, she's not

above making our lives hell. She can and will
do it.'
'Unless I tell the authorities where you
really were the night of the fire,' Devon said
slowly.
'That's right.' With emotional gruffness he
added, 'Unless you tell them that I was
making love to you.'
'Don't call it that!' Devon's words were a
whisper, but an exclamation just the same.
She left her chair so hurriedly that her thigh
bumped the rim of the table and rocked the
candle.
Lucky left his chair just as quickly. Devon
was leaning into the countertop, her hands
curled into fists on the tiles along the edge.
He stepped behind her and, for a split
second, wrestled with his conscience. He
shouldn't touch her. He shouldn't. Even
knowing that, he placed one of his hands
on the countertop beside hers and curved
his other arm around her waist, flattening
his hand on her stomach and burying
his face in the nape of her neck. He
luxuriated in the silky feel of her hair
against his lips.
'That's what it was, Devon. Deny it with
your dying breath if it soothes your
conscience, but that won't ever change what
it was.'

'Leave me alone,' she moaned. 'Please.'
'Listen to me,' he said urgently. 'That arson
rap isn't the only reason I'm here. You know
that. You knew it yesterday. I would have
come looking for you whether or not I was in
trouble. I had to see you again.
'You wanted to see me again just as badly. I
don't care how many times you deny it, I
know it's true. You're not only running from
involvement in a criminal case and what
effects it might have on your life. You're
running from this.' He lightly ground his
hand over her belly, skimmed her mound, the
top of her thigh.
'Don't! Don't touch me like that.'
'Why?'
'Because . . . because . . . '
'Because it drives you as crazy as it does
me.'
'Stop.'
'Only if you tell me I'm wrong about the
way you feel. Tell me I'm wrong, Devon, then
I'll stop.'
'Please. Just leave me alone.'
'I can't.' He groaned. 'I can't.'
She turned her head toward her shoulder.
He lowered his. Their mouths met in a greedy
kiss. She turned into the circle of his arms,
which pulled her against him. Resting his
hands on her hips, guiding them, he

positioned her against him.

As his passions burned hotter, he also got
angrier because he knew she was forbidden to
him. Despite his penchant to misbehave during
Sunday school, some spiritual training had penetrated
his young mind. That formal religious
instruction, plus all the moral lessons drilled
into him by his conscientious parents, declared
that this was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Yet he couldn't deny himself her kisses, not
when her mouth was warm and sweet and
eager. He kept telling himself that the next
kiss would be the last — forever. But one only
made him hungry for more.

'Dammit, Devon, resist me. Stop this. Stop
me.' He was so obsessed with her, he was
seized by a primal urge to fight for her.
Pressing her head between his hands, he
tilted her head back drastically. 'Where is he?
Where is the slob you're married to? Where
was he when you were traveling around East
Texas alone? Is he crazy to give you that kind
of freedom? Is he blind? Why isn't the bastard
here now, protecting you from me, protecting
you from yourself.'

Lucky had posed the questions rhetorically.
He didn't really expect answers. That's why
he was shocked when she cried, 'He's in
prison!'

The lights suddenly came back on.

Lucky blinked several times. Watching him,
Devon realized it was from shock as much as
from the sudden glare of the fluorescent
tubes overhead. The stark light was offensive
and unwelcome. It revealed too much. She
edged out from between Lucky and the
counter and switched it off. She was more
comfortable with only the glow from the
single candle on the table. It made her feel
less exposed.
'Prison?' He remained in the same spot, as
though his boots were nailed to the floor.
'The minimum-security federal prison in
East Texas. It's only about fifty miles
from -- '
'I know where it is.'
'I'd been there to see him and was on my
way home when I decided to do some
research for my article. I figured that a tavern
in a less urban area would better prove my
theory. As it turned out, I was right.'
That was all the explanation he needed.
At least, it was all he was going to get. She
Wasn't going to provide him with a detailed
account of her visit with her husband,

which had left her terribly upset. It was
none of his business to know how
shattering that visit had been.

By pure chance Lucky Tyler had happened
to be at the right place at the right time — or
the wrong place and time, depending on
one's point of view — to take advantage of
her highly emotional state.

'What's he in the pen for?'

'Insider trading. SEC violations.'

'Did he do it?'

'Of course not!' she lied. 'Do you think
I'd marry a criminal?' At least she'd
believed in his innocence when she'd
married him.

'How the hell do I know?' He moved then,
bearing down on her angrily. 'All I really
know about you is that you cheat on your
husband.'

The accusation sounded ugly. Because she
couldn't tell him the truth, she pretended to
be angry and responded with a quick denial.
'I do not!'

'That's not the way I remember it.'

Moving to the door, she jerked it open.
'You can leave the same way you came in
— through the back door. I'll open the garage
for you.'

'Not that easy, Devon.'

'Now that you understand the awkward

position you've placed me in, I'm asking
you to go.'
'I don't understand anything!' he shouted,
reaching beyond her shoulder to slam the
door closed again. It created a waft of air that
disturbed the candle and made it flicker,
projecting wavering shadows of them onto
the walls. 'We're about to have our second
night together.'
'What are you talking about?'
'I'm not leaving until I have a full
explanation from you.'
'I don't owe you -- '
'Is Haines your name or his?'
'Mine. His name is Shelby. Greg Shelby.'
'How long have you been married?'
She was in no mood to be grilled, but he
wasn't going to leave without the full picture,
and, she admitted, she couldn't blame him. If
their positions were reversed, she would be
just as frustrated as he. He wouldn't have to
know all of it. Just some of it. That would
pacify him.
Or would it? When she fell victim to his
compelling blue stare, as now, his eyes
seemed to see straight through her. It was
unsettling, even frightening. What if she
accidentally let her guard down and by way of
a look, a sigh, prompted him to guess or learn
the single most important fact of that night

that he didn't seem to remember?
To cover her uneasiness, she politely asked,
'Would you like some coffee?'
'No.'
'Something?'
'Answers.'
'Let's go into the living room.'
She cupped her hand behind the candle
flame and blew it out. In darkness she
navigated the hallway leading into the living
room. There, she switched on only one lamp
before taking a seat in the corner of an ivory
upholstered sofa. Lucky dropped onto the
hassock in front of the blue leather chair,
spread his knees wide, and loosely clasped his
hands between them.
'Shoot,' he said.
She began without preamble. 'When
Greg's trial came up, I asked my editor's
permission to do a feature story on him.'
'You didn't know him before that?'
'No.'
'What piqued your interest enough to want
to write about him?'
'Most criminals, from serial killers to petty
thieves, fit a particular profile,' she said.
'White-collar criminals are generally arrogant
and condescending toward their prosecutors,
whether they're proved guilty or not.'
'Go on.'

'Well, from what I'd read about Greg, he
didn't fit that profile. He was pathetically
earnest in his denials of any wrongdoing.
That intrigued me. I sold my editor on the
idea. He said to go for it. Next, I had to go
through Greg's attorney and the D.A.'s
Office to get their permission. This took
several weeks.
'Greg's lawyer stipulated that he be present
during the interviews, which I agreed to. The
prosecutor stipulated that the articles would
have to be read and approved by someone in
the D.A.'s Office before publication. You see,
they couldn't lean toward either guilt or
innocence, but had to be completely unbiased.'
Lucky nodded. 'When everyone was satisfied,
I was finally granted my first interview with
Greg.'
'Love at first sight?'
'No, but I was attracted.'
'Physically?'
'Among other things.'
'A man in handcuffs can be a real turn-on.'
She ignored his sarcasm. 'He wasn't in jail
at the time. He had posted bail.'
Thinking back on that first meeting in his
attorney's office, Devon recalled wondering
how anyone could suspect Greg of being
guilty of an outstanding parking ticket, much
less a felony. He was impeccably dressed in a

three-piece, very conservative charcoal-gray
suit, white shirt, sedately striped tie. His
reddish-brown hair had been carefully
combed back from his high, smooth
forehead. He could have given Emily Post
lessons on courtesy.

'What did you get from that first meeting?'
Lucky asked.

'A sense of his background.'

'Which was?'

'He was reared in a Pennsylvania steel town
by very strict and religious parents from
whom he was — and is to this day
— estranged.'

'Why? I can't imagine willfully cutting
myself off from my family.'

Devon could have guessed that. Earlier he
had expressed regret over causing his family
their present difficulties. Apparently what
affected one Tyler affected them all, and each
took the others' problems to heart.

'Greg wasn't fortunate enough to have the
family closeness that you enjoy, Mr. Tyler.
Indeed, few people are,' she said reflectively,
sadly. 'Greg's father had worked for the same
steel company all his life. He couldn't grasp
the concept of playing the stock market, and
ridiculed Greg for not holding down a steady
job.'

'So you've never met his parents?'

'No.'
'What about yours? What do they think of
having a son-in-law in jail?'
'My parents are dead.'
'Oh, I'm sorry. I know how it feels to lose a
parent. My dad died a couple of years ago.'
She acknowledged that with a nod of her
head. 'How soon after that first meeting did
you start dating Shelby?'
'We've never had an actual date.' The
statement drew a frown of disbelief from
Lucky. 'It's true. His attorney advised us
against being seen together socially. It
wouldn't be appropriate for a man on trial to
be seen doing the town.'
'So the courtship took place under the
lawyer's watchful eye? Bet he got a kick out of
that,' Lucky commented scornfully.
'He isn't a voyeur. After the first couple of
meetings he realized he could trust me, that I
wasn't there to exploit his client, so he left us
alone.'
'How convenient.'
'Actually it was,' she snapped. 'We had time
to get to know each other.'
'I'll bet.'
'I realized just how falsely Greg had been
accused. He knew that someone in his firm
had leaked valuable information to certain
clients. Whoever it was had been very clever.

He left a trail of evidence pointing directly at
Greg. Greg's defense was based solely on his
lack of material gain. If he'd committed the
crime for profit, where was the profit?'

'Hey,' Lucky said, 'I'm not the jury.
They've already reached a verdict. I'm more
interested in you . . . and Greg, of course.'

'As time went on, Greg and I became more
emotionally involved.'

'Hmm.'

'It was difficult to maintain an objective
viewpoint.'

'No doubt.'

'I wanted to defend him myself, so I had to
give up writing the articles. They created a
conflict of interest that no credible journalist
can afford. Greg was upset by that. He hadn't
wanted our romance to interfere with my
career.'

'The free publicity couldn't have been all
that bad either.'

That comment struck a sore spot. 'What's
that supposed to mean?'

'Nothing, nothing,' Lucky said tiredly, as
though it didn't matter. 'So when Shelby
popped the question, you said yes?'

'That's right. He asked me to marry him as
soon as the trial was over. But I wanted to get
married right then.'

'Why?'

Yes, why? What had she been out to prove?
That she was smarter than his accusers, that
she was right in her estimation of him when
everyone else was wrong? Or had it gone back
to her mother's death a few years earlier? Her
mother's earnest claims of being ill still
echoed inside her head. Had they overlapped
with Greg's avowals of innocence?
'I'm in pain, Devon. Truly. I can't stand it.
Please help me.'
`I'm innocent, Devon. I swear it. You've
got to help me.'
She couldn't turn a deaf ear to a
desperate person seeking help. Because of
what had happened with her mother, her
heart was compelled to believe Greg, even
when the facts didn't bear out his claims of
innocence.
Only later had she realized she'd been
duped. She had bought his entire act,
swallowed the bait whole, played right into
his hands. It was almost as though Greg had
crawled inside her head and heard her
mother's feeble voice saying the words that
haunted Devon. He had known exactly how
to manipulate her to pity.
To admit that to Lucky Tyler was
unthinkable, however. She continued to
defend Greg adamantly, because there was no
graceful way out. Besides, he was, legally, her

husband. Marriage carried with it responsibilities
one didn't just turn one's back on.
In answer to Lucky's question, she
perpetuated the myth she had created, even
though she knew it to be a justification for
her gullibility. 'I married him to demonstrate
my confidence in his innocence. We were
married in a civil ceremony in his lawyer's
office.'
'So how long between the nuptials and his
conviction?'
'Two days. Greg was the only witness his
defense attorney called to the stand,' she
explained. 'He was eloquent and sincere. I
couldn't believe my ears when the jury
returned a guilty verdict.'
She closed her eyes. 'I can still see the
bailiffs moving toward him to take him into
custody. Greg looked stricken.'
And furious, she thought. His failure to
sway the jurors had enraged him. Those
twelve people hadn't been convinced of his
sincerity. She was the only one who had been
fooled.
'How long ago was that?'
'Eleven months.'
'What was his sentence?'
'Two years in prison. Ten years probation.
His lawyer says he'll probably serve less than
half that.'

'So he could be paroled soon.'
'He comes up for review in a few weeks.'
Lucky stood up and put his back to her. He
slid his hands, palms out, into the hip pockets
of his jeans. There was a palpable tension in
the way he held his shoulders. When he came
back around, his expression was fierce and
angry.
'How many times in the last eleven months
have you cheated on him?'
'None of your business.'
'The hell it's not!' Grabbing her hand, he
pulled her to her feet. 'I don't know if I'm
one of dozens, one of an elite few, or the one
and only. Frankly I don't know which I
prefer, but I damn sure want to know.'
'It doesn't make any difference.'
'It does to me.'
Tears threatened. She wanted to shout the
truth at him. You're the only one. Ever. Instead, her voice cracking, she
whispered,
'You're the only one.'
His shoulders relaxed marginally, and some
of the ferocity in his eyes dimmed. 'Guess I'll
have to take your word for that.'
'Whether you do or not, it's the truth.'
'Do you love him?'
'He's my husband.'
'That's not what I asked.'
'I'm not going to discuss my relationship

with my husband with you.'

'Why not?'

'Because you have no right to know.'

'You shared your body, but you won't share
a few facts?'

'I didn't share anything.' She protested
verbally, but the words didn't originate in her
heart. 'What happened just . . . evolved. It
started with a few kisses and went from there.
You caught me unaware.'

'You were unaware of my tongue on your
nipple?'

No, she inwardly groaned. She remembered
every touch in vivid detail, but
desperately wished she didn't. 'I was half-asleep.
I merely responded to the stimuli.'

He took a menacing step forward. 'If you
tell me you were pretending that I was your husband, I'll strangle you.'

'No,' she said tearfully, 'I wasn't pretending
that.'

Unable to meet his stare, she lowered her
eyes. The silence in the house pressed in on
her suffocatingly. His sheer physicality overwhelmed
her.

To put essential space between them, she
began to wander restlessly around the room,
restacking magazines on the end table,
looking for any task that would keep her
hands occupied and her eyes off him.

'They used to stone women for doing what
you did.'
Fluffing the sofa pillows, she sprang erect.
'What we did, Mr. Tyler. You were in that bed
too.'
'I remember,' he said tightly. 'I'm willing to
take my share of the responsibility for what
happened. You're not.'
Placing her hands on her hips, she
confronted him belligerently. 'What would
you suggest I do? Go through the city passing
out rocks to everyone? Or start wearing a red
letter A on my chest? In some cultures, they
behead adulterers. Do you think justice
would be served then? If so, are you willing to
place your head on the same chopping block?
Because it sure as hell was on the same
pillow.'
That reminder abruptly ended the shouting
match. She turned her back on him.
'I had a lapse of judgment and made a
mistake,' she said. 'Believe me, my conscience
has been punishing me ever since.'
He moved in behind her and spoke her
name, his voice soft and consoling now.
Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her
around to face him and tilted her head up
with a finger beneath her chin.
'I don't want to punish you. Whether you
believe it or not, I blame myself a whole lot

more than I blame you. I could confess ten
sins to every one of yours, I'm sure. Adultery
has never been one of them before, but . . . '
As their gazes moved together and locked,
his voice dwindled to nothingness.
'Never?' she said hoarsely.
'Never.'
'If you had known I was married . . . '
He pondered his answer for several seconds
before saying, 'I'm not sure it would have
mattered.'
Then, not only did their stares merge, but
their recollections as well. Each remembered
the smell and touch and taste of the other.
Each had actively participated in what
happened in that motel-room bed. Each had
to accept his share of the blame, take
responsibility for it.
'I have to vouch for you,' she whispered, I
really don't have a choice, do I?'
'Yes, you do,' he replied, surprising her. 'I
won't force you to, Devon.'
'But if I don't, it'll mean so much more
hardship on you and your family. I can't let
that happen. Ever since you told me yesterday
about the fire, I've known I would eventually
have to come forward as your alibi. It's the
right thing to do.' She gave a wistful little
smile. 'I guess I was hoping for a miracle that
would make it unnecessary.'

He touched the corner of her smile with his
fingertip. 'Your husband will never have to
know. We'll keep your identity a secret. I
haven't been officially charged. I'm just a
prime suspect. Once you've told them that I
was with you from dusk to dawn that night,
I'll be cleared, and you'll be free to go. It'll
never become a matter of public record.'
Situations of this magnitude were rarely
resolved that easily, she knew. Still, she didn't
want to throw a cloak of pessimism over his
expectations. 'I'll take tomorrow off and
come to Milton Point. I want to get it over
with as soon as possible.'
'I would appreciate that too,' he said. 'The
sooner I'm off the hook, the better.'
His mouth split into the same sort of grin
he'd first given her from the end of her booth
in the bar. It made him dashingly, piratically
handsome.
Since the night she had spent with him, she
had asked herself a million times how she
could have done such a foolhardy thing. The
more time she spent with him, the more
reasonable the explanations became. What
woman, no matter how level-headed and
self-reliant, could resist that smile?
Even though she was still suffering the
consequences of submitting to it, she felt her
body once again growing warm and fluid as a

result of it. 'Where should I go when I get to
Milton Point?' she asked, forcing herself to
think pragmatically.

'Why don't you come to the house around
noon? I'll call Pat and have him bring out the
investigators to take your deposition or
whatever they need.'
'Who's Pat?'
'The sheriff, Pat Bush. You met him,
remember? It's a good thing, too, because he
can positively identify you as the woman I
picked up in the place.'
'You didn't exactly pick me up.'
'Figure of speech. No call to get riled.'
'Well, I am riled. I've agreed to do what
you want, so please leave now.' She marched to the front door and pulled it
open.
'Don't you need directions to my house?'
'I'll look up the address in the phone book.'
'Suit yourself.'
'I always do,' she retorted, unwilling to let
him have the last word.
He got it anyway. Before he stepped across
the threshold, his hand shot out and curved
around the nape of her neck. He hauled her
mouth up to his for a scorching kiss. ' 'Night,
Dovey,' he whispered before releasing her and
ambling down the sidewalk.

She was still miffed when he greeted her at
his front door at noon the following day. He
had known the goodnight kiss would make
her mad. That's why he'd done it. He took
mischievous pleasure in provoking her simply
because she was so easily and delightfully
provoked. He was challenged to see how
many different ways he could do it.
Besides, he had wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to now too. But that didn't
seem a very good idea, not when she took
care not even to let her clothes brush against
him as she entered the hallway of his home.
She was dressed for business in a pale
yellow linen suit with a straight skirt, the
hemline just at her knees, and a tailored
jacket decorated with a silver lapel pin. Her
matching silver earrings showed up well in
her ears, because she had pulled her hair back
into a no-nonsense bun. Her expression was
just shy of combative.
'Hello,' she said coolly.
'Hi.' He gave her the cocky grin he knew
she found aggravating.
'You failed to mention that you lived

outside the city limits in the country.'
'I offered to give directions, remember? You
wouldn't let me. Did you get lost?'
'I'm here, aren't I?'
'Yeah, you're here, looking more like the
preacher's wife come calling than an
overnight alibi. Who's gonna believe I
tumbled you?' The devil in him was kicking
up his heels, goading him to say things he
knew damn well would rub her the wrong
way. But he felt he was justified in being
ornery. He didn't particularly like her attitude
either.
'What did you expect me to wear? A
negligee?'

'Lucky, has our guest arrived?'
Laurie Tyler entered the hallway through
an arched opening. 'Hello,' she said pleasantly,
extending her hand to Devon. 'I'm
Laurie Tyler, Lucky's mother.'
'I'm Devon Haines.'
'Come in, Ms. Haines. Everybody's out in
the kitchen. I don't know why we have so
many extra rooms in this house. I think we'd
have been better off just building one
enormous kitchen. Seems like that's where
everybody always ends up.'
'Are the investigators here already?' Devon
asked with uncertainty, glancing over her

shoulder at the cars parked in the semicircular
driveway.
'Not yet. Those belong to family,' Laurie
told her.
'Curious onlookers,' Lucky said sardonically.
'You've drawn a crowd.'
He received a reproving look from his
mother before she took Devon by the forearm
and led the way. 'Lunch is a casual meal
around here. Chicken salad is on the menu
today. I thought that sounded good since the
weather is so muggy. You're hungry, I hope?'
'Well, I, yes, I suppose. I hadn't counted on
eating lunch.'
Lucky observed the two women as he
followed them through the formal dining
room, which was reserved for holidays,
birthdays, and special parties. His mother's
unqualified friendliness had flustered Devon.
Laurie often had that effect on strangers.
Until given grounds to change her mind, she
was always accepting of people, and had a
knack for putting them at ease.
She propelled Devon into the kitchen and
announced her to the rest as though she were a new preacher's wife come calling.
'Everybody,
this is Devon Haines, who has so
unselfishly agreed to help Lucky out of this
trouble he's in. Devon, that's Tanya, my
daughter-in-law; Sage, my youngest child;

and Chase, Lucky's older brother.'
They regarded her with unabashed curiosity,
but murmured polite hellos, knowing that
Laurie would tolerate nothing less.
'Sage, scoot your chair over and let Devon
sit there between you and Lucky. Devon,
would you like iced tea or lemonade?'
'Uh, iced tea, please.'
'Fine, I'll get it. Sugar and lemon are on
the table. Lucky, hand her that plate out of
the refrigerator. And you can start on your
lunch now that she's here.' As she passed the
glass of iced tea to Devon she added, 'He was
too nervous to eat before you arrived.'
'I wasn't nervous,' he remarked crossly. He
set the pre-filled plates on the table and threw
his leg over the seat of his chair, straddling it.
'I was afraid she wouldn't show.'
Devon reacted as though she'd been
goosed. 'I said I would, didn't I?'
'Yeah, but you've been known to skip
without giving prior notice.'
'Well, she's here and that's the important
thing,' Chase said, intervening when Tanya
gouged him in the ribs with her elbow. We re
all very glad that you agreed to clear Lucky,
Ms Haines. At no small expense to yourself.
'Because you're married and all.' Sage, who
had remained blessedly silent, could restrain
herself no longer. 'You sure don't look like

what I thought one of Lucky's pickups
would.'
'Sage!'
'I didn't mean to be rude, Mother. I know
you're as surprised as I am that she's not
wearing dragon-green eyeshadow and fishnet
stockings. I like your suit, by the way,' she
said, smiling at Devon guilelessly.
'Th-thank you,' Devon stammered.
Having wanted to agitate Devon himself a
few moments ago, Lucky now wanted to
throttle his little sister for being so rude.
Devon's cheeks were flushed and her eyes
abnormally bright, but her lips looked pale
beneath her pearly beige lipstick.
Tanya threw her a lifeline. 'How long have
you been a journalist, Ms. Haines?'
'Going on five years,' Devon replied, giving
Tanya a grateful smile. 'Ever since I
graduated from college. I started out writing
obits and fillers for a smaller newspaper in
South Texas before getting the job in Dallas.'
'I read your columns faithfully. They're
very interesting.'
'Tactfully put,' she said with a soft laugh.
'Sometimes my readers take issue with me.'
'I don't always agree with your opinion,'
Tanya admitted with a smile, 'but you always
give me food for thought.'
'I'm glad to hear that.'

'Do you write at home, or do you go to the
newspaper offices every day?' Sage wanted to
know.
'Where do you get your ideas?' Chase
asked.
'Y'all hush and let Ms. Haines eat her
lunch,' Laurie said, then disobeyed her own
order and asked, 'Do you use one of those
word processors?'
Devon laughed. 'I don't mind the questions.
Really. I enjoy talking about my work.'
She answered their questions in turn.
Lucky was interested in her answers himself,
but tried not to let his interest show as he ate
chicken salad that he didn't even taste.
His family was treating her like the Queen
of Sheba. Hell, he was the one in trouble, not.
her. Why weren't they giving her the third
degree about sleeping with strangers the way
they'd given him?
Even as he posed these disgruntled
questions to himself, he knew that if any of
them breathed a disparaging word to her,
he'd jump right down their throats in her
defense.
'Who called Pat?' Laurie asked. She had
parted the curtains and was looking through
the window over the sink at the approaching
patrol car.
'I didn't,' Lucky said. 'I thought we were

going to wait until after lunch, Chase.'
'So did I. I didn't call him.'
Chase left his chair and moved to stand
beside his mother at the window. 'He's alone.
The agents aren't with him.' He had the back
door opened before Pat even reached it. The
sheriff stepped into the kitchen and removed
his hat and sunglasses.
'Hi, everybody.' Nodding down at the
table, he added, 'Sorry to interrupt your
lunch.'
'Please join us, Pat,' Laurie said. 'There's
plenty.'
'I can't, but thanks.'
'Something to drink?'
'Nothing, thanks.'
So far Pat had avoided looking at any of
them directly and was uneasily shifting his
weight from one foot to the other while
restlessly moving his fingers around the brim
of his hat -- dead giveaways that this wasn't a
social call.
Lucky pushed aside his unfinished plate
and stood up. 'What is it, Pat?'
Pat Bush looked at him with a beleaguered
expression. He removed a folded document
from the breast pocket of his uniform shirt. 'I
have a warrant for your arrest.'
Sage and Tanya gasped. Laurie raised a
hand to her chest as though someone had just

wounded her. Devon's pale lips parted in
surprise. Chase's reaction was volatile. He
exclaimed, 'What the hell?'
Lucky snatched the document from the
sheriff, scanned it, then tossed it down onto
the table. He muttered words his mother
wouldn't normally have allowed spoken in
her house. 'I have an alibi,' he told Pat,
pointing down at Devon.
'So I see. Ma'am.' After acknowledging
her, Pat looked back at Lucky. 'Once a
warrant has been issued, I haven't got a
choice. You'll have to come with me now.
Chase can bring the lady in when they start
to question you. It'll all be cleared up soon.'
'Does he have to be placed under arrest?'
Laurie asked.
'I'm sorry about it, Laurie, but, yeah, he
does. He can finish his lunch though. I'm in
no hurry to get back to town.'
'Well, I'm in a hurry to get this mess over
with. Let's go.' Lucky stamped toward the
door.
Pat caught his arm. 'We've got to do this by
the book. I've got to Mirandize you.'
'Fine,' Lucky said tautly. 'But can we go
outside? I don't want my mother to have to
listen.'
'Don't patronize me, James Lawrence,' she
said sharply. 'I'm not a shrinking violet who

needs protection from anything unpleasant. I
fought your daddy's cancer for two years
before losing him to it. I'm unwilling to give
up another member of my family just now, so
if they want a fight, they'll get one,' she said
staunchly.
'Way to go, Mother,' said Sage, looking just
as determined as Laurie.
Lucky winked at his mother. 'Fix something
good for supper, because I'll be home
way before then.' He went through the back
door. Pat doffed his hat to the ladies and
followed him out.
Pat read him his rights. 'Hate like hell
having to do this,' he mumbled as he clamped
the handcuffs around Lucky's wrists.
'Just do it and stop apologizing for it. I
understand. It's your duty.'
'I'm doubly glad you've got the woman.'
'Why?' Lucky asked as he ducked his head
and climbed into the backseat of the patrol
car. Pat's grim tone of voice sounded
discouraging and made him uneasy.
'Cause they've got Susan Young, and she,
my friend, is saying you did it.'

One had to admire Devon's composure as she entered the interrogation room. The
two

federal agents smoked like chimneys, so the
small room was filled with smoke. She was
like a breath of fresh air as she entered with
Pat.
He directed her to a chair; she sat down
without compromising her straight, proud
posture. Lucky tried to catch her eye and give
her an encouraging nod, but she didn't even
glance in his direction. Instead, she gave the
agent her undivided attention.
Once the pleasantries were out of the way,
he got down to business. 'Mr. Tyler claims
that he was with you the night his building
burned to the ground.'
Her green stare was cool and steady.
'That's right. He was.'
Pat sat down on a corner of the table in
front of her. In a far less intimidating voice he
said, 'Tell us how and when you two met.'
'As you know, Sheriff Bush, we met that
same afternoon in a lounge on Highway Two
Seventy-seven.' A frown wrinkled her brow.
'I'm not sure about the name.'
'It doesn't have a name,' Pat said.
'Oh. Then I guess that's why I don't
remember it.'
'Just tell us what happened,' one of the
agents interjected impatiently as he lit
another cigarette.
Calmly Devon told them about going into

the place to do research on her article on
sexism. She admitted that it wasn't wise.
'However, I was being as unobtrusive as
possible. With absolutely no encouragement
from me, two men approached my table and
offered to buy me a drink. They refused to
take no for an answer.'
Her eyes suddenly connected with Lucky's.
Inadvertently she had used the phrase that
they had frequently batted back and forth. He
figured that everybody in the room could
hear the sizzle of the current that arced
between them. Devon quickly averted her
head.
She told the rest of the story, perfectly
corroborating Pat's and his own account. She
verbally led the investigators into the motel
room.
'I opened my door to Mr. Tyler because he
was hurt.' That was a slight distortion of fact,
but only he could testify otherwise, and he
wasn't going to. 'I tended to his wounds,' she
said. 'He was in no condition to drive, so he
... he stayed there with me all night, and was
there when I left the following morning,
which was around six o'clock.'
Lucky looked up at his two accusers and
gave them a gloating smile. 'Now, can we cut
the rest of this crap?'
They ignored him. One motioned Pat off

the corner of the table and assumed that
position directly in front of Devon. 'Are you a
licensed physician, Ms. Haines?'
'What the -- '
Devon overrode Lucky's angry exclamation.
'Of course not.'
'But you felt qualified to take care of a
knife wound and a black eye that, by all
accounts, came close to blinding him?'
'On the contrary, I didn't feel qualified at
all. I advised Mr. Tyler to go to a hospital, but
he refused.'

'How come?'
'You'll have to ask him.'
'I did,' the agent replied, frowning. 'He, in
turn, asked me, given the choice, would I
rather spend the night in a hospital
emergency room or with you.'
Through the pall of tobacco smoke, she
gave Lucky an injured, inquisitive, incredulous
look. 'It was a joke, Devon. A joke.'
Paler than she had been only moments
before, she turned back to the agent. 'I was
only concerned about Mr. Tyler's injuries/
she said quietly. 'He'd received those injuries
while protecting me, so I felt somewhat
responsible. When he refused to get medical
help, I did the best I could to take care of him. I thought that was the least I
could do to
repay him for coming to my defense.'

'Did you sleep with him, too, to pay him
back for coming to your defense?'
Lucky was out of his chair before his next
heart-beat. 'Now just a damn minute.
She -- ' Pat's hand fell heavily on his
shoulder and spun him around.
'Sit down and shut up.'
Pat looked ready to kill him, but Lucky
realized that Pat was acting in his best
interests. He flung himself back into his chair,
glaring balefully at the agent.
'Well, Ms. Haines?'
'Mr. Tyler appeared to be exhausted. I
believe he'd had quite a lot to drink. He
certainly shouldn't have been driving. When
he asked me to let him stay, I let him stay. He
hinted at internal injuries.'
The two agents looked at each other and
shared an arrogant, just-between us-boys
laugh. 'And you believed him?' one asked.
'I'll have to remember to use that line
myself,' the other chimed in.
Lucky didn't have a chance to come out of
his chair this time. The sheriffs hand was on
his shoulder, anchoring him in his seat. But
he snarled at the two agents who were making
this as difficult for Devon as they possibly
could. They seemed to enjoy her embarrassment.
'I didn't know if he had internal injuries or

not,' she said sharply. 'And neither do you.'
Her chin went up a notch. 'His eye was
battered. He could have had a concussion or
any number of head injuries too. I did what I
thought was best.'

'And you're to be commended for your
charity,' one drawled, winking at the other.
'You said he was there in the morning when
you left around six o'clock.'

'That's right,' she replied curtly. Her
contempt for them was plain. Knowing how
she felt about sexism, Lucky realized that
their taunts were intolerable to her. Under
the circumstances she was holding up well.

'He was still sleeping when you left?'

'Yes. Soundly.'

'He'd been that way all night?'

She faltered, but finally answered, 'Yes.'

'How do you know?'

'I know.'

The agent stood up and slid his hands into
his pockets. 'Couldn't he have slipped out,
driven back to town, set a torch to the garage
where they kept all that heavily insured
equipment, then returned to the room
without you ever knowing he was gone?'

'No.'

'It wouldn't have taken him more than,
hmm, say two hours.'

'He didn't leave.'

'You're sure?'
'Positive.'
'You sound so definite.'
'I am.'
'There's a fair amount of space in a motel
room to move around, Ms. Haines. Couldn't
he have -- '
'We were sharing not only the room, but
the bed,' she stated, her eyes flashing. 'If you
wanted me to admit that, why weren't you
man enough to come right out and ask
instead of pussyfooting around?'
'Amen,' Lucky intoned.
'Mr. Tyler and I were sleeping in the same
bed,' Devon continued. 'A double bed. Very
close to each other, out of necessity. And if
Mr. Tyler had gotten up and left the room, he
would have awakened me. I'm not that sound
a sleeper.'
God, she was terrific. Lucky wanted to give
her a standing ovation. Or a kiss. Or both.
She'd cut the s.o.b.'s down to size. But they
weren't giving up entirely.
'Did you sleep without waking up through
the night?'
Lucky recognized the trap and hoped that
Devon did. If she said yes, they could claim
that he had sneaked out and returned without
her knowledge, planning all along to use her
as his alibi. Her alternative was to admit that

she had been intimate with a stranger.

'No.' At greater risk to herself, she had
opted for the latter choice. Lucky admired
her spunk, but suffered for her pride. 'I woke
up once.'

'What for?'

Despite Pat's restraint, Lucky shot from
the seat of the chair. 'What the hell difference
does it make?'

Pat shoved him back down, stepped in
front of him, and used his own body as a
shield between Lucky and the agents, whom
Lucky was prepared to tear apart with his
bare hands.

With Lucky temporarily quelled, Pat
appealed to the agents. 'Look, you two, Ms.
Haines has volunteered to come here. You
know she's married and that this is
uncomfortable for her. Take it easy, okay?'

They ignored him. 'Answer the question.
Ms. Haines.'

She glared at the agent, cast Lucky a swift
glance, then lowered her head to address her
damp, clenched hands lying in her lap.
'During the night, Mr. Tyler and I ... were
physically intimate.'

'Can you prove it?'

Her head snapped up. 'Can you prove we
weren't?'

'No,' the agent retorted, 'but I've got

another woman in another room claiming
virtually the same thing, except she says that
he bragged to her about setting a fire to
collect insurance money.'
'She's lying.'
'Is she?'
'Yes.'
'How do we know?'
'Because he was with me all night.'
'Screwing?'
It would have taken more than Pat Bush's
substantial bulk to stop Lucky then. Roaring
like a pouncing lion, he launched himself
across the room toward the agent who had
practically spat the nasty word in Devon's
face.
He threw the agent off balance and into the
table, sending it crashing to the floor. Cheap
wood splintered. Devon gave a surprised cry,
sprang from her chair, and backed toward the
door out of harm's way.
But then Chase pulled open the door and
came barreling through, nearly mowing her
down. He'd been waiting in the squad room,
but at the first hint of trouble had come
charging in to offer assistance to his younger brother.
The second agent, the one not being
pummeled by Lucky's flying fists, charged
forward to help his cohort. He was grabbed

from behind. 'Not so fast, buddy,' Chase
growled into the agent's ear as he restrained
him.

Pat, recovering from his dismay, dodged
Lucky's fists, grabbed him by the collar, and
pulled him to his feet. 'What the hell's the
matter with you?' he shouted. 'This isn't
going to help.'

He slammed the younger man against the
wall and pinned him there by splaying one
hand open over Lucky's chest. With his other
hand he assisted the agent to his feet.

Lucky's torso was heaving from exertion
and fury. He aimed his index finger at the
agent. 'You son of a bitch. Don't you ever talk
to her -- '

'I'm filing assault charges against you!' the
agent shouted. He took a folded white
handkerchief from his pocket and tried to
stanch the flow of bright red blood from his
cut lip.

'You'll do nothing of the sort,' Pat declared
in a loud voice. 'If you do, I'll go to your
superiors and lodge a formal complaint
against you for the way you've conducted this
interrogation. You intentionally badgered and
humiliated Ms. Haines, who was doing her
best to cooperate with your investigation.'

'He's right,' Chase said through gritted
teeth. He had the agent's hands up between

his shoulder blades. He pushed them higher.
The man groaned. 'Isn't he right? Before you
answer, maybe you should know that half a
dozen deputies and I were listening through
the door to every word said in this room.'
'Maybe,' the agent gasped, 'maybe he did
get a little out of hand.'
'Chase,' Pat barked, 'let him go. His eyes
are bugging out.'
Lucky was virtually unaware of what was
going on around him. He had tasted blood
and wanted more. Glaring at the agent
malevolently, he threatened, 'I'm gonna nail
you -- '
'Lucky, shut up!' Pat called forward a
deputy from among those congregated in
the doorway. 'Take him upstairs and lock him
up.'
'Huh?' The sobering thought of a jail cell
snapped Lucky out of his murderous mood.
'What for?'
'Suspected arson, remember?' Pat said
calmly, nodding the deputy toward Lucky.
'But I'm innocent!'
'That's how you can plead before the judge
later this afternoon. In the meantime I
recommend you teach your mouth some
manners and cool off your temper.'
Lucky was too dumbfounded to resist
the deputy's manhandling. Besides, this

deputy had played on the same regional
championship baseball team with Lucky and
had been a friend for years. He looked at
Devon. 'Take her home, Chase.'
'Right,' his brother said. 'Stay the hell out
of trouble, will you?'
'See you in court,' Lucky quipped as he
was escorted through the door. His smile
vanished, however, when the crowd of
deputies, clerks, and dispatchers parted for
him, and he noticed a spot of color in the
otherwise monochromatic gray squad room.
Susan Young was standing against the far
wall, twirling a strand of hair around her
finger and smiling complacently.

'That was a damn stupid thing to do.'
The pickup truck with Tyler Drilling Co.
stenciled onto the doors jounced over a
chuckhole. Chase downshifted, giving his
brother a fulminating glance across the
truck's interior. The upholstery's color was
no longer distinguishable. It bore layers of
grime from scores of drilling sites.
'Don't you know the penalty for assaulting
a federal agent?'
'No, do you?' Lucky shot back.
'You know what I mean.'
'Well, I wasn't penalized, so leave me alone,
okay?' Lucky slumped lower in his seat as
Chase herded the pickup through the twilight
evening toward their family home. Then,
feeling bad for acting surly toward his
brother, he added, 'Thanks for posting my
bail.'
'Thank Tanya. The money came out of her
house fund.'
'Her what?'
'Her house fund. She wants to buy a house,
and has been saving money for a down
payment.'

Lucky shoved back his dark blond hair.
'Jeez. I feel terrible.'

'Not as terrible as you'd feel spending the
time before your trial in jail. And not as
terrible as you'd feel if the judge had listened
to the prosecutor and placed your bail higher
than we could afford.'

The federal agents had convinced the
prosecutor that they had enough evidence
against James Lawrence Tyler to arraign him
on an arson charge. They contended that if
one woman would lie on his behalf, another
would. Why should they believe Devon over
Susan? It would be left to the court to decide
the veracity of each woman and determine
Lucky's guilt or innocence.

Everyone on Lucky's side believed that the
agents were acting out of pique now more
than conviction of his guilt, but unfortunately
there was nothing they could do about it at
this point.

Lucky's attorney had pleaded with the
judge to reduce the amount of bail
recommended by the prosecutor. He cited
how well known Lucky was in the
community, and guaranteed that his client
had every intention of appearing in court to
deny the allegations and clear his name.
The judge had known the Tyler boys all
their lives. They were rowdy, but hardly

criminals. He'd been lenient.
'How's Devon?' Lucky asked now.
'Pretty shaken up. Mother took her under
her wing.'
'Is there any way we can keep her name out
of the newspapers? At least until the actual trial?'
'So far, nobody but the people in that
interrogation room know who your alibi is. I
doubt the feds will tell anybody. They don't
want anyone to know that one of them was
overpowered and damn near beat to a pulp.'
Chase cast his brother another glance of
reprimand. 'Dumb move, Lucky. If Pat hadn't
been there to smooth things over, you'd be in
a world of hurt.'
Lucky, however, was only interested in
Devon's opinion of him. 'She probably thinks
I'm a hothead.'
'You are a hothead.'
'And you're not?'
'I've got better sense than to attack a
federal agent.'
'One of them never talked to your woman
like that agent did.'
'Oh, so now she's 'your woman'?' Chase
asked.
'Just an expression.'
'Or a Freudian slip.'
Lucky stared glumly through the bug-splattered
windshield. 'Who ever would have

thought a fist-fight at the place would result
in a mess like this?'
Chase offered no reply, but the question
had been rhetorical anyway. Broodily Lucky
contemplated the scenery that whizzed past.
'Anybody seen or heard from Little Alvin and
Jack Ed lately?'
'Nope. They're keeping a low profile.'
'If you ask me, the feds would do better to
lay off us and Devon and go after those two.'
'Yeah, but nobody asked you.' Chase
wheeled the truck into the lane leading to the
house, from which mellow golden light was
pouring through the windows. 'Don't entertain
any notions about going after them
yourself,' Chase warned. 'We don't need
another assault charge against you.'
'Devon's still here.'
Lucky was heartened by the sight of her
red compact in the driveway. Chase parked
the truck beside it. Once out of the pickup,
Lucky jogged up the steps and through the
front door.
'Hey, everybody, the jailbird is free!'
'That's not funny,' Laurie admonished as
he entered the living room where she was
sitting with Devon, Sage, and Tanya. Chase
had phoned ahead and reported the outcome
of the arraignment.
'Neither is jail,' Lucky said in an

appropriately solemn tone. Crossing to where
Devon was seated on the sofa, he dropped
down beside her and, without compunction,
covered her knee with his hand. 'You okay?'
'I'm fine.'
'Did those bastards give you any grief after
I was taken away?'
'No. They allowed me to leave. Chase drove
me here.' She gave Laurie, Sage, and Tanya
smiles. 'I've been well looked after, although
all the fuss was unnecessary.'
'After the dreadful way you were treated?'
Laurie stood up. 'Of course it was necessary,
and then some. My family owes you a debt of
gratitude, Devon.' She moved toward the
arched opening. 'Boys, wash up. We've been
holding dinner for you.'
'I'd like a chance to speak to Devon alone,
Mother,' Lucky said.
'After dinner. I'm sure she's famished.
Chase, stop that smooching and usher
everybody into the dining room, please.'
Chase reluctantly released Tanya, whose
neck he'd been nibbling. Laughing, he
remarked, 'We should have had Mother in
that interrogation room with us today. They
wouldn't have dared cross her.'
Laurie had heeded Lucky's earlier request
and cooked a sumptuous country dinner of
fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn

on the cob, and blackeyed peas. She'd made
his favorite banana pudding for dessert.
Despite the events of the afternoon, the mood
at the dinner table was jolly.
As they were finishing their dessert and
coffee, Tanya clinked her fork against her
drinking glass. Everyone fell silent and looked
at her, surprised because she so rarely called
attention to herself.
'I think this family needs a piece of good
news.' Reaching for her husband's hand, she
smiled into his eyes and proclaimed, 'There's
a new Tyler on the way. I'm pregnant.'
Laurie clasped her hands beneath her chin,
her eyes immediately growing misty. 'Oh, how
wonderful!'
Sage gave a raucous, unladylike hoot.
Lucky guffawed. 'Don't look now, big
brother, but you just dropped a gooey bite of
pudding into your lap.'
Chase, gaping at his wife, lowered his
empty spoon back into his dessert plate. 'You
. . . you mean it? You're sure?'
Gleefully Tanya bobbed her head up and
down. 'You're going to be a daddy.'

Having reached the white wooden fence that
enclosed the peach orchard, Devon rested her

forearms on the top rung and took a deep,
cleansing breath. Lucky stood beside her. It
was the first moment they'd had alone since
Chase had brought him back from town.
Following Tanya's announcement, everybody
had started firing questions at once, which
she fielded with poise.
No, she wasn't very far along, but the
pregnancy had been positively confirmed.
Yes, she was feeling quite well, thank you.
No, she hadn't had any morning sickness
yet.
Yes, she was due around the first of the
year.
No, the doctor didn't expect any difficulties.
Discussion of the baby had prolonged
dinner. Finally Laurie had stood to clear the
table, shooing Devon and Lucky out. The
evening was close and warm, the air heavy
with humidity and the heady, fertile scents of
spring.
Turning her head toward Lucky, Devon
asked, 'Did you know?'
'What? About Tanya?' He shook his head.
'No. But it didn't really surprise me. They've
made no secret of wanting kids. It was just a
matter of time. I'm glad she chose tonight to
announce it.'
The top railing of the fence caught him in

the middle of his back as he leaned against
and turned to face her. There was a soft
breeze blowing, lifting strands of burnished
hair out of her restrictive bun. Sage had
loaned her some clothes. She had traded her
business suit for a casual, long-skirted jumper
worn over a T-shirt. She was making it tough
on him to decide which way he liked her best.
Whether soft or sophisticated, she always
looked terrific.

'Your mother is really something,' she was
saying. 'She's strong and yet compassionate.
A rare combination.'

'Thanks. I think she's special too. I was
afraid you'd think the Tylers are all a little
crazy. Picking fights one minute. Crying over
a coming baby the next.'

She plucked a leaf off the nearest peach
tree and began to pull it through her fingers.
'No, it's nice, the closeness you share.'

'You didn't have a close family?'

'Not really. Just my parents and me. No
brothers or sisters.'

Lucky couldn't imagine such a thing and
said so. 'Chase and I used to fight like cats
and dogs. Still do sometimes. But we're best
friends, too, and would do anything for each
other.'

'That's obvious. I remember the look on
his face when he came charging through the

door of that interrogation room.'
Enough time had elapsed that they could
smile about it now. Lucky was the first to
turn serious again. 'I thought the family
bonds might weaken after Dad died. Instead,
they're stronger than ever. Mother's held us
together admirably.'
'Tell me about him.'
'My dad? He was strict, but fair. All us kids
knew we were loved. He spoiled us and
spanked us equally, I guess you could say. To
him there were no gray areas where honesty
and integrity are concerned. We knew he
loved God, his country, and our mother. He
was openly affectionate with her, and always
respectful.'
'So it stands to reason that his son would
leap to the defense of a woman in distress.'
He gave her a self-deprecating grin and a
slight shrug. 'Conditioned reflex.' Reaching
out, he caught a loose strand of her hair and
rubbed it between his finger. 'What was life
like for Devon Haines when she was a little
girl?'
'Lonely at times.' Her expression became
introspective. 'Unlike your father, mine
wasn't a very warm and giving person. In
fact, he was demanding. My mother fetched
and carried for him from the moment she
said 'I do' until the day he died. Their roles

were rigidly defined. He was the domineering
breadwinner; she was the obedient good little
wife. She spent her days keeping his castle
spotless, and her evenings waiting on him
hand and foot.'

'Hmm. Is that why their little girl turned
out to be such a militant feminist?'

'I'm not militant.'

Lucky raised his hands in surrender. 'I'm
unarmed.'

'I'm sorry,' she said with chagrin. 'Maybe I
am a trifle defensive.'

'That's okay.' Then, bending down closer
to her, he whispered, 'If your eyes keep
flashing green fire like that, I'm gonna have to
kiss you.' He said it teasingly, but his eyes
conveyed the message that he meant it.

Devon looked away to stare down the neat,
straight row of carefully cultivated peach
trees. Their branches were already burdened
with unripened fruit.

'My mother's whole life revolved around
my father. When he died, she was left with
nothing to live for.'

'What about you?'

'I guess I didn't really count.'

'That rejection must have hurt.'

'It did.' She sighed. 'Two miserable years
after my father's death, she died too.'

'How?'

The ground beneath them held her
attention for a moment. When she began
speaking, her voice was thick. 'For as long as
I can remember, my mother was a hypochondriac.
She constantly complained of minor
aches and pains. They kept her from
attending functions throughout my schooling.
I couldn't have friends over because she felt
bad. That kind of thing.'

Lucky muttered something unflattering
about the late Mrs. Haines, but Devon shook
her head. 'I guess the hypochondria was her
only means of getting attention from my
father. Anyway, I learned early on to dismiss
mother's 'illnesses.'

'After my father died, they increased in
frequency and severity. Because her life had
been so wrapped up in his, she had nothing
to occupy her mind except her own body and
its many failings. I was just out of college,
scrambling to find a job that would subsidize
her pension. Frankly, hearing about each
stabbing pain and dull ache drove me crazy. I
tuned her out as much as possible.' She
pinched off a piece of the leaf and tossed it
into the wind.

'She began to claim that the pains were
getting worse. The more she complained
about her discomfort, the more stubbornly I
ignored her. I thought that honoring the

hypochondria would only encourage it.'

She rolled her lips inward and pressed on
them so hard that the rims turned white.
Lucky saw the tears collecting in her eyes. He
took her hand and interlaced her fingers with
his.

'One day Mother said she was having
difficulty in swallowing. She couldn't eat.
Everything I gave her came right back up. I
... I relented and took her to see the
doctor.' Unable to go on, she pulled her
hand from his and covered her face with
both hands.

He rubbed her between the shoulder
blades. 'What happened, Devon?' Instinctively
he knew that she had never talked
about this with anyone. He was flattered, but
it hurt him to see her in such emotional
distress.

She pulled in a choppy breath and lowered
her hands. 'She was dead within two weeks.
Inoperable stomach cancer.'

'Oh, damn.'

She took a clean tissue from the pocket of
the jumper and blotted her eyes and nose.
Her pretty features were etched with misery
and guilt.

'You couldn't have known,' he said softly.

'I should have.'

'Not based on your past experience.'

'I should have listened to her. I should have
done something.'
'The result would probably have been the
same, Devon.' His father had died of cancer
after fighting it for months.
'Yes, probably,' Devon said. 'But if I hadn't
disregarded her, she wouldn't have suffered. I
turned my back on her at a time when she
needed someone to believe her.'
'From what you said, she had turned her
back on you first.'
She dusted her hands of the leaf she had
shredded. 'We weren't tuned in to each other
the way you Tylers are. So I can't relate to the
camaraderie your family shares, but I think
the way you rally together is enviable.'
He sensed that the topic of her mother's
death was now closed. He wouldn't press.
She had opened up to him. It had been too
brief a glimpse into Devon's psyche, but he
coveted information about her.
He matched her more lighthearted tone.
'You don't think we're loud, boisterous, and
overwhelming?'
She laughed softly. 'A little, perhaps.'
'Yeah, we can get pretty rambunctious.'
'But it must be nice, knowing you have
someone you can count on to stand up for
you, no matter what.'
'You don't?' He caught her beneath the

chin with his fingertip and turned her head to
face him. 'What about your husband?'
'He's not in a position to rally to my aid
now, is he?'
'What if he were in a position to? Would
he?'
She lifted her chin off the perch of his
finger and turned away again. Lucky dropped
his arm to his side. The emotional turmoil on
her face was plain. He hated to think he was
the one responsible for it.
'You'll have to tell him about us now, won't
you?' he asked softly.
'Yes.'
'I'm sorry, Devon. I had hoped to prevent
that.' If he had hoped it badly enough, he
would have left her alone, he thought wryly.
He wouldn't have asked her to come to
Milton Point and counter Susan's lie with the
truth. But thinking primarily of himself, he
had coerced her to come. He was confident of
acquittal; Devon, however, would suffer
permanent consequences. 'When will you see
him?'
'Tomorrow. I don't want him to hear about
it from someone else before I've had a chance
to explain. That's why I accepted your
mother's invitation to spend the night here.
Since I'm this close to the prison, it would be
silly to drive back to Dallas, only to have to

return to East Texas in the morning.'

Lucky wasn't as interested in the logistics
of travel as he was in what form her
explanation would take. 'What are you going
to say to him?'

Ruefully she shook her head. 'I don't know
yet.'

'What are you going to tell him about me?'

'As little as possible.'

'Are you going to tell him how we met?'

'I suppose that'll be a start.'

'About Little Alvin, Jack Ed, the fight?'

'I suppose.'

'You'll explain why you were in the place.'

'He'll understand that part.'

'But not the rest. What'll you tell him about
the motel?'

'I don't know,' she admitted with increasing
impatience.

'Well, you'd better think of something.'

She turned on him with agitation. 'Tell me,
Lucky, what should I say? What can I say?
What words could possibly make this
situation easier for him to accept, hmm? Put
yourself in his place. He's in prison. How
would you react if your roles were reversed?
How would you feel if I were your wife and
had slept with another man?'

He reached for her and pulled her against
him, snarling, 'If you were my wife, you

wouldn't have slept with another man.'

She deflected his kiss. 'Don't.' He could tell
by her tone that she wasn't being coy. He
gazed into her eyes. 'Don't,' she repeated
firmly. 'Let me go.'

He relaxed his embrace; she stepped out of
it. 'For reasons I can't comprehend, your
family has been cordial to me when all I
deserve from them is scorn and contempt. I
expected to be shunned like a woman of the
streets. Instead, they've been inordinately
kind. I won't betray their consideration by
playing your tramp.'

His body was pulled taut, as though he
were held back by an invisible leash. 'You're
not a tramp,' he said meaningfully. 'I never
thought of you that way. I never treated you
that way. Didn't I nearly throttle someone
today for suggesting that you were?'

Suddenly she ducked her head, and he
thought it might be because of the tears that
had filled her eyes. 'So far,' she said in a low,
stirring voice, 'I've got only one sin to confess
to my husband. Please don't make it any
worse, Lucky.'

'That's the first time you've called me by
name,' he murmured, taking a step nearer.
'That's a beginning.'

She raised her head. Their eyes met and
held. Eventually she moistened her lips,

pulled the lower one through her teeth, and
whispered, 'We aren't allowed a beginning.'
Having said that, she turned and headed
for the house.
'My, my. Wonders never cease.'
At the sound of his sister's voice, Lucky
angrily spun around. 'What the hell are you
doing out here?'
Sage stepped from behind one of the peach
trees. 'There's actually a woman who can say
no to Lucky Tyler. My faith in womankind
has been restored.'
'Shut up, brat,' he grumbled. 'How long
have you been there?'
'Long enough to set my heart to
palpitating.'
'Why were you spying on us?'
'I wasn't. Mother sent me out to tell you
that Chase and Tanya are leaving. She
thought you'd want to say congratulations
one more time. I sensed the nature of your
conversation, and decided it would be
imprudent to interrupt.'

'So you eavesdropped.'
Unfazed, she fell into step beside her
brother as he stamped toward the house.
'Poor Lucky,' she sighed theatrically. 'He
finally finds a woman he really wants, and she
turns out to have the loathsome three.'
'Loathsome three?'

'A brain, a conscience, and a husband.'
Lucky glowered at her. 'You know, the day
Mother and Dad brought you home from the
hospital, Chase and I considered tying you up
in a gunnysack and tossing it into the stock
pond. Too bad we didn't.'

'Lucky looked ready to kill Sage when they
came in,' Tanya remarked.
Chase and she were driving home in their
car. He'd left the truck at the house,
unwilling to subject his wife to its rankness,
rattles, and rough ride.
'Sage has always been a pain,' he said, but
with a grudgingly affectionate smile. 'She
must've said something to him about their
houseguest.'
'I like her.'
'Sage?'
'No.' Tanya corrected him indulgently,
knowing he had intentionally misunderstood
her. 'Their house guest'
'Hmm. She's okay, I guess. She pulled
through for us today. Didn't crack under
pressure, and stayed as cool as a cucumber. I
believed every word she said. A jury will, too.'
'Do you think she's attractive?'
Hearing the uncertainty in his wife's voice,

Chase parked in their designated space at the
apartment complex and turned to face her. 'I
think you are attractive,' he avowed softly,
stretching across the seat to gently kiss her
forehead.
'But Devon's so smart and sophisticated.'
'And you're so pregnant with my baby.'
Working his way inside her clothing, Chase
laid his hand on her bare abdomen. 'When
did you first suspect?'
'Last week. My period was more than two
weeks late. I took a home pregnancy test
yesterday, but didn't want to trust it entirely,
no matter how reliable the guarantee on the
box claimed it was. So I called the doctor and
made an appointment for this morning. He
confirmed it.'
'You don't feel any different,' he whispered
as he caressed her.
Laughing, she ran her fingers through his
hair. 'I hope not. Not yet.'
His caresses increased in intensity. Their
kisses became prolonged. Finally Tanya
pushed him away. 'Maybe we had better go
inside.'
'Maybe we'd better,' he agreed on a
suggestive growl.
As soon as they had cleared the door to
their apartment, he pulled her toward the
living-room sofa. 'Chase,' she protested, 'it's

only a few more steps to the bedroom.'

'That's too many.'

He had already stripped off his shirt.
Easing his zipper over his swollen sex, he
pulled off his pants and underwear. Impatiently
he removed Tanya's clothes, too. It
wasn't until he was poised between her thighs
that reason penetrated his passion.

'I won't hurt you, will I?'

'No.'

'You'll tell me, won't you?'

'Yes, Chase.'

'Promise?'

'Promise,' she groaned, urging him forward
and receiving him fully.

'God, I love you,' he whispered into her
hair several minutes later as they held each
other in the sultry afterglow of their
lovemaking.

'I love you too.' Snuggling closer to him,
she pressed her mouth against his chest. 'I
feel sorry for anybody who isn't as happy as
we are. Especially Devon and Lucky.'

Tanya didn't have an envious bone in her
body. She was unselfish and generous to a
fault. However, she harbored insecurities the
same as any other human being. Hers
stemmed from her background.

She came from a large, hardworking, but
always poor farming family. Schooling

beyond high school graduation had been out
of the question, and she regarded anyone
who had earned a college degree with
disproportionate admiration.
It had been Tanya's sweet nature and
unpretentiousness that had first attracted
Chase. He recognized her insecurities and
found them endearing, though he never
discussed them with her. It was characteristic
of her nature that while being awed by Devon
Haines's panache, she could still feel sorry for
her.
He said, 'You link their names as though
they're a pair.'
'I think they would be if they could be,' she
said softly.
'Tanya,' he said gruffly, smoothing back her
fair hair, 'you're going to make a wonderful
mother.'
'What makes you think so?'
'Because you have such a huge capacity for
loving.'
Her eyes grew misty as her fingers glided
over the strong features of his face. 'What a
lovely thing to say, Chase.'
'It's true.'
Before they became too maudlin, she
smiled. 'You know, one thing that has limited
capacity is this apartment. I spoke with a
realtor a few weeks ago, before Lucky's troubles

started. She said when we were ready to start
looking for a house to contact her.'

'She?'

'An old friend of yours. Marcie Johns.'

'Goosey Johns!' he exclaimed on a laugh.

'Goosey?'

'That's what we used to call her.'

'How awful.'

'Naw. It was all in fun.'

'She's very nice.'

'Oh, I know that,' he agreed. 'She always
was. We just goaded her because she was tall
and skinny, wore glasses and braces, and
studied all the time.'

'Apparently she's getting the last laugh.
She's a very successful businesswoman.'

'So I've heard. She's got her own realty
company now, doesn't she?'

'Mm-hmm. And even after robbing the
kitty to pay Lucky's bail, I believe we'll have
enough for a down payment. Know what?'
Tanya said, propping herself up to look down
at him. 'I think Marcie had a crush on you
when you were in school.'

'Really?' No longer listening, he cupped
one of her breasts and fanned the crest with
his thumb. 'Lord, that's beautiful.'

'She asked a lot of questions about you,
was curious to know how you were, that kind
of thing.'

'Goosey Johns was interested in books, not
boys. Especially horny boys like me,' he
added, pulling Tanya astride his middle. Her
body sheathed his hardness again. Breathlessly
he asked, 'Now can we talk about
something else?'
They didn't talk about anything at all.

15

It had a tennis court, a nine-hole golf course,
a weight room, a jogging track, a library
stocked with current best-sellers. For all its
amenities, however, it was still a prison.
Using her telephone credit card, Devon
had called the warden's office from the
Tylers' home the day before and scheduled a
meeting with her husband for 9:00 A.M.
She had got up early, dressed, and gone
downstairs. Laurie had insisted that she drink
a cup of coffee before leaving. Sage was still
asleep. She was told, without having asked,
that Lucky had left early to return the
company truck to headquarters in case it was
needed.
A morning drive through the East Texas
countryside in early summer should have
been a pleasurable experience. Wildflowers
dotted the pastures in which dairy and beef
cattle grazed. She'd driven with the car
windows rolled down. The south wind carried
the scent of pine and honeysuckle. The
peaceful hour it had required to arrive at
those iron gates should have calmed her
nerves and prepared her for the dreaded

forthcoming visit with her husband.
It hadn't.
Her palms were slick with perspiration as
she was led into the room where inmates
were allowed to greet their visitors. It was a
large, airy room, having unadorned windows
that overlooked the flower and vegetable
gardens tended by the inmates themselves.
The easy chairs and sofas were functional but
comfortable. Current magazines were scattered
around the various accent tables. There
was a coffee maker with a freshly brewed
carafe and, this morning, a box of doughnuts
nearby.
'He'll be right here,' she was told by the
prison guard. 'Help yourself to coffee and
doughnuts while you wait.'
'Thank you.'
She wanted neither. Her stomach was
roiling. Resting her purse on one of the
chairs, she clasped her damp hands together
and moved toward the windows.
What to say?
Greg, I've had an affair.
It hadn't been an affair. It had been a
single night.
Greg, I had a one-night stand.
No, that sounded worse.
Greg, I was swept up in the passion of the
moment.

Passion?
Passion.
Whatever else it had been, it had been
passionate. How else could it have happened?
Reason hadn't entered into it. Not even
romance. Common sense had played no part.
Morality hadn't been considered. She'd been
governed strictly by her passions.
And it had been glorious.
Ever since her night with Lucky, that
traitorous thought had been throwing itself
against the doors of her consciousness like a
deranged beast trying to break down the
barriers and get out to celebrate the event.
That's why she felt compelled to confess it
to Greg. Whether he was likely to find out or
not, she would have eventually told him. If
her emotions hadn't got as tangled up as the
sheets of the bed she had shared with Lucky
Tyler, she might have kept the secret for the
rest of her life, never divulging it to anyone.
But her emotions had become involved.
Because they were, her conscience was. She
felt guilty about it; therefore, she had to
discuss it with Greg.
Her marriage to Greg was certainly
unorthodox, but the legal document still
decreed them husband and wife. She'd freely
recited the vows to him, and just as freely she
had broken those vows.

What Greg had done or hadn't done,
whether or not he was innocent or guilty,
whether or not he had used her and her
newspaper column -- none of that mattered.
She was an adulterous wife.
Perhaps if he had given her a wedding
night as she had wanted and expected him
to ...
Perhaps if her body hadn't been so starved
for the loving attention he had withheld . . .
Perhaps if he hadn't declined his conjugal
visits . . .
That had been the crushing blow. Only
hours before she had met Lucky, she had
discovered that Greg had been refusing
conjugal visits with her. When asked why, he
couldn't give her a satisfactory answer.
'Why, Greg, why?' He provided no answers, and only became angry when she
persisted.
More than her father's self-absorption,
more than her mother's neglect, more than
anything in her life, that had been the
ultimate rejection. Her self-confidence had
been shattered, her self-esteem crushed. Was
she so undesirable that even her prisoner
husband wouldn't avail himself of her?
While she was in that frame of mind, fate
maliciously matched her with Lucky Tyler.
He had revived her dying spirit.

Still, no one had forced her at gunpoint to
make love with him. Sure, she had needs;
everyone had needs. But society would be
plunged into chaos if people went around
incontinently gratifying their needs.

Down the hallway she heard approaching
footsteps and murmured conversation. Turning
from the window, she lowered her hands
to her sides, but reflexively clasped them
together again. She moistened her lips,
wondering if she should be smiling when he
walked in. She wasn't sure she could even
form a smile. Her features felt wooden.

Laurie Tyler had graciously pressed her suit
for her. Devon always took special pains with
her appearance when she came to see Greg,
wanting her visits to be as pleasurable for him
as possible. This morning, however, even the
quality cosmetics Sage had loaned her didn't
conceal the dark circles beneath her eyes,
which hours of sleeplessness had left there.

The footsteps became more pronounced
and the voices louder. Devon's heart began to
thud painfully inside her chest. She swallowed
with difficulty, though her mouth was so dry
her saliva glands seemed to have been
dammed. She tried to hold her lips still, but
they quivered around a tentative smile.

Greg and the guard appeared in the
doorway. 'Have a good visit,' the official said

before withdrawing.
Greg looked trim and fit. He had told her
that he played a lot of tennis during free time.
His tanned skin always came as a mild
surprise to her. He spent more time
out-of-doors now than he had during the
days of his trial, when he'd had a pallor.
The inmates here didn't wear prison garb,
but their own clothing. Greg was always
immaculately dressed, though his three-piece
suits had been replaced by casual clothes and
his Italian leather loafers by sneakers.
He moved further into the room. The
confinement was beginning to tell on him,
she noted. It caused a strain on all the
inmates of this facility. To a man, they
complained of the boredom. Accustomed to
being movers and shakers in big business,
they found it difficult to adjust to the forced
idleness. Worse yet was that they no longer
had the privilege of making their own
decisions.
Instinctively Devon knew that he wouldn't
welcome a broad smile and a cheerful 'Good
morning,' and, fortunately, a subdued greeting
coincided with her mood. So she stood
stoic and silent in front of the windows as he
crossed the room.
He didn't stop until they were within
touching distance. It wasn't until then that

she noticed he was carrying a newspaper. She
glanced down at it curiously, then back up at
him. His face was taut with rage. So
unexpectedly that it caused her to jump, he
slapped the newspaper onto the windowsill,
then turned on his heels and strode from the
room.
Her arid mouth opened, but she couldn't
utter a single sound. She waited until he had
cleared the doorway and turned down the
hall before retrieving the newspaper.
It had been folded once. She opened it and
noted that it was a Dallas paper, a competitor
of the one she worked for. Greg had
gratuitously underlined in red the pertinent
headline.
She slumped against the armrest of the
nearest chair and skimmed the incriminating
article. For long moments afterward she sat
there, clutching the newspaper to her chest,
eyes closed, heart tripping, head throbbing.
She had so carefully outlined what she was
going to say to him, when, as it turned out, it
hadn't been necessary to say anything. The
newspaper account was disgustingly accurate.

'Promise me you won't fly off the handle and
do something stupid.' Chase, casting a tall,

dark shadow across the office floor, filled the
doorway.
Lucky was angled back in the swivel desk
chair their grandfather and father had broken
in for them. His boots were resting on the
corner of the desk, another relic of oil-boom
days. A telephone was cradled between his
shoulder and ear. He waved his brother into
the room.
'Yeah, we can send a crew out tomorrow to
start setting up.' He winked at his brother,
and made the okay sign with his thumb and
fingers. 'We didn't lose all that much in the
fire, so we're set to go. Just give me
directions, and our boys'll be there by
daybreak.'
Bringing the chair erect, he reached for a
pad and pencil and scribbled down the
directions. 'Route Four, you say? Uh-huh,
two miles past the windmill. Got it. Right.
Glad to be doing business with you again,
Virgil.'
He hung up the phone, sprang out of the
chair, and gave an Indian whoop. 'A contract!
A biggie! Remember ol' Virgil Daboe over in
Louisiana? He's got four good prospects for
wells, and wants us to do the drilling. How
'bout that, big brother? Is that good news or
[what? Four new wells and a baby on the way!
How can you stand that much good news in a

twelve-hour period?'
On his way to the coffee maker, he
walloped Chase between the shoulder blades.
Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he said, `I'll
call all the boys and tell them to get their
gear -- ' He broke off as he raised the mug of
coffee to his lips and realized that his brother
wasn't sharing his jubilation. 'What's the
matter?'
'It's great about the contract,' Chase said.
'Well, you sure as hell can't tell it by
looking at you.' Lucky set down his coffee.
'What's wrong with you? I thought you'd be
dancing on the ceiling about this.'
'I probably would be, if I wasn't afraid I
might have to hog-tie you to keep you out of
more trouble.'
'What are you talking about?'
'Somebody squealed, Lucky.'
'Squealed?'
Chase had folded the front page of the
newspaper lengthwise four times so he could
slide it into the hip pocket of his jeans.
Reluctantly he removed it and passed it to
Lucky.
He read the story. The first words out of his
mouth were vile. Subsequent words were
even viler. Chase watched his brother warily,
unsure of what he might do.
Lucky threw himself back into the desk

chair. It went rolling back on its creaky
casters. Bending at the waist, he plowed all
ten fingers through his hair and recited a
litany of oaths. When he finally ran out, he
straightened up and asked, 'Has Devon seen
this yet?'
'Mother doesn't think so. She left early for
the prison. They had coffee together, but
Mother didn't open the paper until after she
left.'
'Just what the hell does this mean?' Lucky
demanded, referring to the copy in the
article. ' 'According to an unnamed source.' '
'It means that whoever leaked the story is
scared of what you might do to him if you
ever find out who he is.'
'He damned sure better be,' Lucky said
viciously. 'And I'll find out who the bastard
is. 'Agents were injured in the fracas that
broke out when Tyler's mistress was allegedly
insulted,' ' he read.
'Fracas'? What the hell kind of word is
'fracas'? Devon wasn't 'allegedly insulted,' she was insulted. And calling her
my mistress!' he
shouted. 'We were together once. Once dammit.'
Lucky flung himself from the chair and
[began pacing the office in long strides. 'This
[is what I wanted to prevent,' he said as he
ground his fist into his opposite palm. 'I

wanted Devon to be protected from scandal.'

'She would have lost her anonymity during
the trial,' Chase reasonably pointed out.

'I figured the case would never go to trial. I
counted on something happening first. I
thought maybe Susan would -- ' He stopped
his pacing and rounded on Chase. 'That's it.'
As heated and agitated as he'd been only
seconds earlier, he was now remarkably calm.
The switch was as sudden as closing a door
against a fierce storm. 'Susan.'

'She leaked the story?'

'I'd bet Virgil's contract on it.' He told
Chase about seeing the banker's daughter in
the squad room.

'Yeah, I saw her there too,' Chase said. 'She
was grinning like the Cheshire cat. But would
she risk having her name attached to this
mess?'

'She lied to those agents, didn't she?'
Lucky headed for the door.

Chase, well aware of Lucky's volatile
temper, followed him outside. 'Where are you
going?'
'To see Miss Young.'

'Lucky -- '

'Hopefully between here and there I'll
come up with an alternative to murder.'

Clara, the Youngs' housekeeper, demurred
when he asked to see Susan. Lucky was
persistent, and eventually wore her down. She
led him through the house to the backyard,
where Susan was enjoying a late breakfast on
the stone terrace. Like a hothouse orchid, she
was surrounded by giant ferns and flowering
plants.
He pinched a sprig of lilac from the fresh
flower arrangement on the foyer table and
carried it outside with him. As he crossed the
lichen-covered stone terrace, he could hear
Susan humming beneath her breath while
liberally spreading orange marmalade over an
English muffin. Lying on the table in front of
her was the front page of the Dallas paper.
'You sure do make a pretty picture sitting
there, Susan.'
At the familiar sound of his voice she
dropped her knife. It landed with a clatter on
the china plate. She sprang from her chair
and rounded it, placing it between them, as
though filigree wrought iron could prevent
him from snapping her in two.
'Lucky.'
Her voice was feeble and airless. There was
little color remaining in her face. The fingers
gripping the back of her chair were bloodless.
She backed up a step as he moved inexorably
forward.

When he reached her, he raised his hand.
She flinched.

Then her terrified eyes focused on the
flower he was extending to her. 'Good
morning,5 he whispered, bending down and
planting a light kiss on her cheek. She gaped
at him wordlessly as he pulled back, then
automatically accepted the flower.

'I didn't expect you,' she croaked.

'Sorry I'm here so early,' he said,
nonchalantly pinching off a bite of her
English muffin and popping it into his
mouth, 'but it's been days since I've seen you,
and I just couldn't wait any longer. I
hope -- '

He stopped, made a point of noticing the
newspaper, and muttered a curse. The look
he gave her then was a mix of sheepishness
and exasperation.

'Damn! I wanted to get over here before
you saw that.' He gestured down to the
article. 'Susan, honey, I'm sorry.'

She stared at him with speechless dismay.

Feigning disgust, he expelled a deep
breath. 'Some loudmouthed snoop found out
who I was with the night of the fire and
leaked that story about the Haines woman.'
Appearing to be supremely exasperated, he
plopped down into one of the wrought iron
chairs and hung his head.

'One mistake. One lousy mistake,' he
mumbled in self-castigation. 'How was I to
know she was married? And to a convict.
Jeez!' He swore. 'Of course, now you'll have
to tell the authorities that you lied to them
about being with me the night of the fire.'
'I ... I will?' Her voice had gone from low
and faint to high and thin.
'Of course, honey.' He rose and took her
shoulders between his hands. 'I can't let you
stick your neck out any further than you
already have. Yesterday, when I saw you in
that ugly squad room, I nearly died.'
He touched her hair, smoothed it away
from her neck. 'I knew the kind of questions
they had put to you. Personal things about us.
Lord, how embarrassing that must have been
for you. How do you think I felt, knowing you
were making that sacrifice for me?'
He laid his hand over his heart. 'And then
do you know what the bastards told me to
throw me off balance? They said that you
claimed I had bragged to you about setting
that fire. Can you believe that? Sure, you
joked with me about it the other night, but
you weren't serious, right?'
'Uh, uh, right.'
'Don't worry. I didn't fall for the ploy. I
knew they were bluffing, trying to trap me
into admitting something. You'd never betray

me like that. Not when we were planning to
get married. The last thing I ever wanted was
for you to be dragged into this mess.' He
pulled her close and spoke into her hair.
Astonishment had made her body limp.

'I appreciate everything you did to try and
save me from prosecution, but I can't let you
do any more. I can't let you be called into
that courtroom to perjure yourself.'

'Perjure myself?'

'Sure,' he said, angling away from her. 'If
you testify under oath that I was with you the
night of the fire, then the Haines woman says
under oath that I was with her, I'll have to
testify under oath that she's telling the truth.
You'll be caught in your lie, sweetheart,' he
said gently. 'That is, unless you recant your
story immediately. The sooner, the better.'

She pushed away from him, staring up at
him whey-faced, on the verge of panic. 'I
never thought of that.'

'I know you didn't. All you thought about
was me, us, our marriage. Which, of course,'
he added regretfully, 'can never be.'

'Why not?'

He spread his arms at his sides in a gesture
of helplessness. 'Do you believe your mama
and daddy would let you marry me now, a
guy who would sleep with a con's wife? Think
about it, sweetheart. They wouldn't stand for

it. Your daddy would probably cut you out of
his will and leave all his money to charity.
They'd rather see you dead than married to
me. And, frankly, so would I.' His voice was
laced with so much earnestness that she
didn't hear the irony underlying it.
Clasping her against him again, he hugged
her tight for several seconds before releasing
her abruptly. 'Good-bye, Susan. Since all this
has come out in the open, I can't ever see you
again.'

Before she could speak another word, he
left her, choosing to take the gravel path
around the house rather than going through
its sepulchral hallway to reach the front.
At the corner of the house he turned and
looked back.
'Save yourself while you can, Susan. Don't
even give yourself time to think about it. Call
Pat.'
'Yes, yes. I'll do that today. Right now.'
'I can't tell you how much better that'll
make me feel.' He blew her a kiss.
'Goodbye.'
Hanging his head, he walked with the
measured gait of a self-sacrificing patriot on
his way to the guillotine. But he was
laughing up his sleeve and felt like kicking
up his heels.

Devon was waiting for him the following
morning when he arrived at Tyler Drilling
headquarters. Sitting in a straight chair as
prim and proper as a finishing-school
student, she was talking to Chase and
cradling one of their chipped, stained coffee
mugs between her hands.
They shared a long stare across a shaft of
sunlight in which dust motes danced as
crazily as Lucky's pulse was racing at the
sight of her.
Chase was the first to break the thick
silence. 'Devon showed up a few minutes
ago,' he explained awkwardly. He, too, was
evidently at a loss as to why she was there.
'We were just having some coffee. Want some,
Lucky?'
'No thanks.' He hadn't taken his eyes off
Devon. Nor had hers strayed from him.
'The, uh, the crew has already left for
Louisiana.'
'That's good.'
Chase's futile attempts at conversation only
emphasized the teeming silence. Uneasily he
cleared his throat. 'Uh, well, I need to be, uh,

doing some things outside. See y'all later.' As
Chase went past Lucky on his way out, he
jostled him with his elbow. It was a silent
brotherly communique that said, 'Snap out of
it.'
Once Chase had closed the door behind
himself, Lucky remarked, 'I'm surprised to
see you here.'
Her smile was swift and unsure. 'I
surprised myself by coming.'
He sat down in a ladder-back chair, his
eyes roving hungrily over her face.
'I've been trying to call you since yesterday
afternoon, Devon.'
'I took my phone off the hook.'
'I gathered that. Why?'
'After reading yesterday's newspaper,
everybody in the world was trying to call me,
it seemed.'
Lucky frowned. 'I hate like hell that the
story came out. I wanted to keep you
anonymous for as long as possible. Please
believe that.'
'I know you had nothing to do with it. Who
do you think was responsible?'
He told her about Susan. 'She looked
guilty as hell when I confronted her. I'm
convinced she made it her business to find
out who you were and, out of spite, spilled
the beans to a reporter.'

'Well, it doesn't really matter now how the
story got out. The damage is done.'
He studied her a moment, noticing that her
face was drawn and pale. The last twenty-four
hours must have been pure hell for her. She
was gripping the coffee mug as though it were
a buoy in a turbulent lake.
'Do you really want that coffee?' he asked.
Shaking her head, she passed the mug to him.
He took it and set it on the desk, then turned
back to her. The question uppermost in his
mind couldn't be avoided any longer.
'How did things go with your husband
yesterday?'
A small shudder went through her, though
it was uncomfortably warm in the office. 'By
the time I arrived, Greg had read the story,'
she said softly. 'He merely dropped the
newspaper and walked out.'
'Without a word?'
'Words would have been superfluous,
wouldn't they?'
'I guess so,' Lucky murmured.
He was thinking that if he had a wife whom
he loved as much as any husband should love
his wife, he would have given her the benefit
of the doubt and asked a few questions. He
wouldn't have reacted until she either denied
or confirmed the newspaper story.
If she had denied it, he would have

comforted her, then immediately set out to
get a retraction. If she had confirmed it, he
probably would have gone nuts and carried
on something terrible.

A furious outburst, tears, anguish, teeth-gnashing,
threats of retaliation. Those would
be the expected jealous reactions. They
denoted feeling, passion. Simply stalking out
was an almost inhuman response that made
Greg Shelby sound cold, unfeeling.

'What did you do?' Lucky wanted to know.

'I read the story through. At first I just sat
there, stunned. My character suffered in the
translation. Somehow, once they were written
down, the facts sounded ugly and shameful.
So tawdry.' She shivered again.

Lucky reached beyond the back of his
chair to take one of her hands. 'It wasn't,
Devon.'

'Wasn't it?' she asked, her eyes brimming.

'No.'

The stare they exchanged then was so
powerful, she prudently withdrew her hand
and used her tears as the excuse. She brushed
the back of her hand across her eyes.

'I had the prison guard try to get Greg to
see me again, but he refused. Once I returned
to Dallas, I called the warden and got
permission to speak to him by telephone. I
[Wanted desperately to explain.' She shook her

head mournfully. 'He wouldn't even accept
my call.'

Lucky mentally called Greg Shelby every
dirty name he could think of. 'So what now?
Do you want me to go with you to see him?'

'No!' Leaving her chair, she began roaming
the office restlessly. 'I don't believe he'd be
willing to see either of us right now. After
thinking it over and discussing it with Greg's
attorney — who isn't at all pleased with me
either — I think it's best to leave him alone
for several days. He needs time to cool off
and clear his head, so that when we do see
each other again, he'll be able to listen calmly
to my explanation.'

'I don't know, Devon,' he said doubtfully.
'Given time to think about it, I would just get
madder.'

'Greg isn't as volatile as you.'

'You're right about that.' Lucky's concession
wasn't intended as a compliment to
Greg. 'If you were my wife and some guy had
messed with you, I'd've busted down the
walls of that prison by now and be on my way
to tear out his throat.'

'Greg's not that . . . physical.'

'Do you really think he'll eventually forgive
and forget?'

'I hope so. Yes, in time, I believe he will.'

The answer didn't cheer Lucky as it should

have. Her husband sounded like a sanctimonious
creep who could hold a grudge forever.
Lucky hated to think of Devon being tied to
Shelby for the rest of her life.

Somewhat querulously he asked, 'Did you
come all the way from Dallas to tell me this?'

'No. There was another reason.' She
returned to her seat. 'This whole thing has
blown up in my face. Since I went into that
lounge and ordered a beer, I've had nothing
but trouble. It's out now that I'm your alibi in
an arson case. Until the trial is over, and God
only knows when that will be, my life is going
to be a three-ring circus. I can't have that. I won't have it.'

'I don't like the prospect of being a
notorious public figure any better than you.
But what can we do about it?'

'We can clear you with the investigators.'

'We tried, remember? It only got me into
deeper Dutch. You too.'

'But we didn't present them with the real
arsonist.'

For the space of several seconds Lucky
gave her a blank stare. Then he began to
laugh. 'You want to play detective?'

'Look, the sooner we get you cleared, the
sooner this thing will blow over and we can
get on with our lives. It's not going to be easy
to make amends to Greg, but it would be a

start if he knew we wouldn't be going
through a trial together, and that I wouldn't
constantly be in your company. I'm sure he
would enjoy hearing that I never had to see
you again.'

She was batting a thousand on dismal
thoughts this morning, but since he didn't
have a viable alternative, he remained silent.

'I've cleared my calendar,' she said. 'I told
my editor that I'm taking a week's vacation
and plan to devote the time to tracking down
the arsonist. When I get back, I promised him
a terrific story, as well as an article on how
interrogators can and do intimidate witnesses.
I think -- What are you grinning
about so idiotically, Mr. Tyler?'

'You.'

'You find me amusing?'

'You like having control over things, don't
you? Even police matters.'

'So far the police haven't done anything to
help you. I can't do any worse than they
have.'

'Granted.'

'I don't trust other people to do things for
me.'

'Um-huh,' he said. 'You're what we used to
call a smarty britches.'

Still grinning, he stood up and stretched.
He was feeling a million times better than he

had been an hour ago. He had been
concerned because he hadn't spoken with
Devon since the story of her involvement had
been leaked. He'd also been dreading an
entire day of not seeing her.
Then, lo and behold, she'd showed up and
planned to stay for a while. Damn, he was
lucky! The dreary reminder of her convict
husband was pushed aside. Greg Shelby was
a loser, a jerk, and, if Lucky was any judge of
women at all -- and he considered himself an
expert on the fair sex -- not that great in the
sack.
If Shelby had been the man Devon
deserved, no amount of persuasion could
have got her into bed with another man. He
hadn't even had to persuade. Something
about her marriage to this Shelby character
wasn't right. Lucky respected her for not
discussing her marital troubles with an
outsider; on the other hand he wanted to
know why she was married to a man who had
made her so unhappy. Apparently he was
being granted the time and opportunity to
find out.
The only thing that clouded his sunny
mood was that he wouldn't be able to touch
her. They would be spending a lot of time
together, but she was still off-limits. That was
going to kill him, because wanting her had

become his chief occupation. More than
worrying about his failing business, more
than worrying about the fabricated arson
charge against him, his desire for Devon was
all-consuming.
But seeing her under adverse circumstances
was better than not seeing her at all.

'I always enjoyed playing cops and
robbers,' he said. 'Where do we start?'
'First, I'd better check into a room.
Where's the best place to stay?'
'My house.'
'I can't, Lucky,' she said, shaking her
head adamantly. 'The reasons should be
obvious.'
'My mother would skin me alive if I let you
check into a motel. Anybody who knows her
knows she isn't going to let any extramarital
hanky-panky go on beneath her roof. So
you're staying with us, and that's settled,' he
said with finality.
'But -- '
'Devon,' he said sternly, staving off her
protests by holding up both hands, palms
out. 'No arguments.'
She capitulated, but didn't seem too
pleased about it. 'First, I think we should find
out exactly how the fire started.'
'Gasoline and railroad flares,' he said. 'Pat
already told me. I had bought some flares

recently. That confirmed their suspicions.'
'Can we review the official crime report?'
'I don't know. I don't imagine it's a matter
of public record.'
'I wasn't talking about publicly. Privately.
Couldn't your friend Sheriff Bush sneak us
a copy?'
Lucky whistled through his teeth. 'I'll ask him.'
She turned and reached for the phone on
the desk.
Lucky snatched the receiver from her hand. `I'll ask him. Maybe he'll show us a
copy of
the report after business hours.'
'In the meantime I'd like to see the site of
the fire.'
'That's easy. It's only half a mile down the
road from here.' He surveyed her up and
down, taking in her dress, high heels, and
pale stockings. 'The location is only suitable
for roughnecks and raccoons. You can't go
dressed like that.'
'I'll change.'
Lucky retrieved her suitcase from her car.
She went into the cubicle in the office that
was home to a commode and sink. While
she was in there, Chase returned. He
glanced around and found only Lucky
seated behind the desk, speaking into the
telephone.
'Where's Devon?'

Lucky cupped his hand over the mouthpiece.
'In there,' he said, indicating the
bathroom door, 'taking off her clothes.'

When the bathroom door opened, Chase
swiveled his head around so fast, his neck
popped. Devon emerged, fully dressed in
jeans. She was rolling up the sleeves of a
casual shirt.

'What's going on?' Chase demanded.

Lucky shushed him and spoke into the
phone. 'Come on, Pat. I know I acted like a
bad boy. Yes, I deserve to be horsewhipped.
Now that I've contritely admitted the error of
my ways, will you do it or not?'

He listened for a moment while his eyes
appreciated the slender shapeliness of
Devon's legs and the soft curves of her
breasts. 'Great. Ten-thirty. Hell no, we won't
tell anybody.'

'What's going on?' Chase repeated as
Lucky hung up the phone.

'Pat's making the crime report available to
Devon and me tonight.'

'You just promised not to tell anybody,' she
cried, placing her hands on her hips.

'Chase isn't anybody. Pat would expect me
to tell him.'

'I still don't know what's going on,' Chase
reminded them.

'We're going to try to find out who set the

fire, so I can be cleared of the charge.'
'And I can be reconciled with my husband/
Devon added.
Lucky declined to comment on her
statement. Chase divided his incredulous
glance between the two of them. He said,
'Devon, would you please give me a minute
alone with my brother?'
'I'll wait for you outside, Lucky.'
'Be right there.'
As soon as she was out of earshot, Chase
encircled Lucky's biceps in a death grip. His
face close, he said, 'Have you lost your
friggin' mind? You can't tamper with
something like this. Who the hell do you two
think you are, Kojak and Nancy Drew?'
'I'm a whole lot better looking than Kojak,'
Lucky replied cockily.
'I'm not joking,' Chase said angrily.
'Neither am I.'
'Aren't you?'
Lucky's blue eyes narrowed. 'What do you
mean by that crack?'
'Isn't this all just a game to you? A game
that will keep you in close contact with a
woman you have no business being around?'
'Stay out of this,' Lucky said tightly, his
humor vanishing. 'What I do with Devon -- '
'You'd better do nothing with Devon. She's
married.'

Lucky, resenting his brother's sermon,
though it echoed the one he'd been preaching
to himself, jerked his arm free. 'I'm a
grown-up. I don't need you for a conscience
any more, big brother.'
'I'm not trying to be your conscience.'
Chase sighed with chagrin. 'Okay, maybe I am. But I'm more worried about her
than I
am you. She's the real victim here, Lucky.
Her life has been turned upside down, and
it's your fault.'
'I don't need you to remind me of that
either.'
'When you're done playing your games,
what's she going to be left with, huh? A
broken marriage and a broken heart?'
'You're wrong, Chase.'
'Am I?'
'Yes! This time it isn't just a game.'
Chase stared at him long and hard before
stating softly, 'That's what really worries me.'

All that was left of the machinery garage was
a dark area on the ground, covered by ashes
that had been sifted through so many times
they resembled gray face powder. The
remains of the machinery had already been
hauled away. What little that could be

salvaged had been sold as scrap metal. The
revenue from that sale had barely covered the
crew's expenses to Louisiana.

Devon sighed as she kicked up a cloud of
ashen dust with the toe of her sneaker. 'Not
much here to look at, is there?'

'I told you.' Lucky was squatting; he
scooped up handfuls of the ash and let it filter
through his fingers.

'The fire was meant to be destructive, not
just to serve as a warning of some sort,' she
observed aloud.

'The agents said that from the beginning.
That's one of the reasons they pointed
accusing fingers at me. They said it burned
quick and hot. The fire trucks never had a
chance in hell of putting the thing out. The
best they could do was save the woods
surrounding it.'

Devon moved to an area of green just
beyond the perimeter of scorched ground.
She sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree.
Lucky joined her. They silently contemplated
the charred area.

'This is just one of several company
buildings, right?' she asked.

'Right. But this is where we kept most of
our heavy equipment. This was definitely the
place to set the costliest fire and make it look
like I did it.'

Tilting her head, she looked at him
curiously. 'Why do you automatically assume
that the revenge was directed at you?'
He shrugged. 'Who else? Mother? She's got
more friends than she can count. Sage? She's
just a kid.'
'Jealous boyfriend?'
He dismissed that possibility with a curt
shake of his head. 'She hasn't ever been that
seriously involved with any one guy. She
scares off even the most determined. Chase
has probably cultivated a few enemies, but I
feel it here,' he said, flattening his palm
against his stomach, 'in my gut, that it was
aimed at me.'
'Why?'
Setting her hands behind her, she braced
herself up on her arms. The pose drew her
shirt tight across her breasts. Lucky had to
concentrate on the caterpillar creeping along
the tree trunk in order to keep himself from
staring at them.
'I'm the one who's always getting into trouble.'
He lifted his eyes to hers. 'Seems I have a
knack for getting myself into tight places.'
Spiders spinning webs between branches of
the nearby trees were making more racket
than Lucky and Devon while they peered
deeply into one another's eyes. The breeze
lifted their hair and flirted with their clothing,

but they remained motionless, unblinking,
thoroughly absorbed.
After a long moment, Devon roused
herself. 'Who have you been in trouble with?'
'Why are you curious?'

'Everyone's a suspect.'
'Or are you just nosy?' he teased.
She blushed slightly. 'Maybe. It's a habit.
See, when I do a story on someone, I talk to
everyone close to the subject. I gather bits of
information from here and there until I can
piece together the entire personality of the
individual. Sometimes the least likely interview
produces the most valuable tidbit, the
single element that makes all the other
elements click into place.'
'Fascinating.'
What he found most fascinating wasn't the
topic, but her animated way of explaining
how she worked. Her eyes weren't one pure
hue, but myriad shades of green that sparkled
when she was angry or excited about the
subject under discussion.
They could also look as deep as wells when
she became introspective or sad, as they had
done that night in the orchard when she had
talked about her parents. He doubted she knew
how expressive her eyes were. If she did, she
would train them not to give away so much.
Drawing himself back into the discussion,

he asked, 'But what has your work method
got to do with me?'

'To get to the culprit, I have to go through
you. So I'll approach it the same investigative
way as if I were writing a story on you. I want
to talk to a variety of people with whom
Lucky Tyler has had contact. Tell me about
everybody you've had trouble with in say,
hmm, the last six months.'

He laughed. 'That'll take all afternoon.'

'We've got all afternoon.'

'Oh yeah. Right. Chase did say he had that
drilling in Louisiana under way, didn't he?
Well, let's see.' Absently he scratched his
neck. 'Of course, most recently there was
Little Alvin and Jack Ed.'

'For the time being, let's set them aside.
We'll come back to them. They're almost too
obvious to be suspects.'

'Okay, for starters, there was this guy in
Longview. Owned a club over there.'

'A club? Health club? Country club?'

'No, a, uh, you know.'

'A nightclub?'

'Yeah. It's a ... the kind of place where
guys hang out. It's got girls. They hustle
drinks and, you know, dance a little.'

'A topless bar?'

'Sorta like that. Sure. I guess you could call
it that.'

Rolling her eyes, she said, 'Don't spare my
sensibilities, Lucky. We'll save time. What
about this guy?'
'He accused me of coming on to one of his
girls.'
'Did you?'
'I bought her a few drinks.'
'And for that he got upset?'
'Not exactly,' he said, shifting uncomfortably.
'What? Exactly.'
'I flirted with her. She read more into it
than I intended. When I lost interest and
stopped going there, she got depressed.'
'How do you know?'
'This guy calls and starts bawling me out.
Said she cried all the time, wouldn't work.
Said I was bad for his business, 'cause she
was a favorite with his customers. He told me
to stay away from his club and his girls, this
one in particular. I think he had the hots for
her and was just jealous.'
'Jealous enough to burn down your
building?'
'I doubt it.'
Devon took a deep breath. 'Bears looking
into. Who else?'
'There was a farmer.'
'Let me guess,' she said drolly. 'He had a
daughter.'

'No. He had a cow.'
After a moment's wary hesitance she shook
her head. 'I don't think I want to hear about
this one.'
Frowning at her lack of faith in him, he
explained, 'I was driving one of our trucks
through a pasture on my way to a drilling
site when a cow decided to play chicken with
it.'
'With what?'
'The truck.'
'In other words, you ran over a cow.'
'It was an accident! I swear, the dumb
animal ran straight for my hood ornament.
Anyway, she died.'
'Surely you paid the farmer for the cow?'
'Hell, yes. We paid him more than she was
worth. But he pitched a conniption fit and
threatened to sue us for further damages.'
'What happened?'
'Nothing. We never heard from him again,
and assumed he had decided he'd come out
ahead.'
'Maybe not. Although I doubt a poor old
farmer would have the moxie to set a fire.'
'Poor old farmer, my foot. He was straight
out of Texas A&M. You should have heard
some of the names he called me.'
'Okay, he's a possibility. Remember his
name, and we'll check to see if he's bought

any flares lately. Who else have you tussled
with?'
He squinted into the sunlight. 'Hmm. Oh
yeah, the Irvings.'
'Plural?'
'There's a clan of them over in Van Zandt
County.'
'Swell. That narrows it down,' she muttered.
'What did you do to them?'
'Nothing!'
'What did they accuse you of doing?'
He reached for her hands and sandwiched
them between his own. 'Swear to God,
Devon, it wasn't me.'
'Who did what?'
'Got Ella Doreen pregnant.'
She stared at him in stupefaction for
several seconds, then she began to laugh. 'Is
this a joke?'

'Hardly. You wouldn't have thought it was
funny either if an army of shotgun-toting
rednecks in overalls had come after you. They
surrounded the office one day, demanding I
make an honest woman of Ella Doreen and
acknowledge her kid as mine.'
'Was there any possibility that you were
the, uh, donor?'
He shot her a retiring look. 'She's just a
kid, younger than Sage. I didn't even
remember who she was until one of her

kinfolk produced her from the back of a
flatbed truck. Uncle Somebody shoved her
forward to accuse me face-to-face.'
'You recognized her then?'
'Sure. We had met a couple of weeks earlier
in an office building in Henderson. I was
there to see a client. As I was crossing the
lobby, I noticed this girl sitting there fanning
herself, looking ready to throw up or faint or
both. I asked if she needed any help. She told
me she'd gotten dizzy and hot. And it was
hotter than hell in there.
'So I helped her to her feet, escorted her
outside, and offered to buy her a can of cola,
which I did from one of the vending
machines at the nearest filling station. We
walked there. I was never even alone with her.
The only thing I touched was her elbow.
'During our conversation she asked me
what I did for a living, and seemed impressed
by the business card I gave her. I remember
her running her fingers over the engraving.
That's it. After she assured me that she could
call someone to come pick her up, I left her
there, sitting on a stack of retreads, sipping
her coke.
'As it turns out, she had been in
Henderson to see a doctor in that building,
and was already about four months pregnant.
I couldn't possibly have fathered her chid. I

was just a convenient scapegoat. Eventually
she broke down and admitted it.'
By the time he finished telling the tale,
Devon was shaking her head with amazement.
'You attract trouble like a lightning
rod.'
'Not intentionally.'
'And it always centers around women.
Even the cow.' She looked away from him,
adding softly, 'And now me.'
Laying his palm along her cheek, he turned
her face toward him. 'You look so sad.'
'I am.'
'Why? Was it terrible yesterday?'
'Yes. It was awful having to face my
husband, both of us knowing that I had
betrayed him. Physically. With you.'
'And knowing you want to again.'
She sucked in a quick little breath. Her
eyes widened, and her lips parted. 'I didn't
say that, Lucky.'
'You didn't have to.' He brushed his thumb
across her lower lip. She whimpered quietly.
Glancing down at the peaked centers of her
breasts, which were making impressions
against her blouse, he whispered, 'Just like
before, your body says it for you.'

Pat Bush was sitting on a picnic table in
Dogwood Park, drinking from a long-neck
bottle of beer. It was against the rules to be
drinking in uniform, but it was against the
rules to hand over official crime reports to
civilians, too, so he figured he might just as
well be hanged for a sinner as a saint.

Devon scanned the top sheet of the stack of
documents. One of the park's halogen
security lamps provided her with enough light
to read by. She had slipped on her glasses.
'What's a trailer?'

'A trail of fuel leading back to the building,'
Pat explained. 'There were several radiating
out from the garage like spokes on a wheel.
They set the flares to them.'

'Then ran like hell,' Lucky contributed
from the adjacent playground, where he was
sitting in a swing.

'Whoever did it was smart,' said Pat,
playing devil's advocate. 'Apparently the perp
shut off the ventilation system in the building
first. The gasoline fumes collected like air
inside a balloon. One spark introduced into
those compressed fumes, and kablooy.

You've got yourself an explosion hot enough
to melt metal.'
'Maybe we'll see something when we've
gone over the material more carefully.' Devon
tried to inject some optimism into her voice,
but Lucky knew that her hopes were as faint
as his own. He rued the day he'd bought
those flares, which the roughnecks sometimes
used at night to mark the route to an
out-of-the-way drilling site.
Pat finished his beer and conscientiously
placed the empty bottle in the trash barrel.
'Guess I'd better get home. It's late. If y'all
turn up anything, let me know. But for the
love of God keep your investigation covert.
Don't do anything conspicuous.'
'Don't worry, Pat. If we're caught, your
name would never enter into an explanation
of how we got the crime report.'
'You didn't have to tell me that,' the older
man said to Lucky. He doffed the brim of his
hat to Devon and ambled off through the
park toward his squad car.
'Ready?' Lucky asked.
Devon pocketed her glasses, picked up the
stack of documents, and allowed him to hold
her hand as they moved in the opposite
direction from Pat, toward Lucky's Mustang.
The house was dark when they arrived.
(Laurie had already gone to bed. A light shone

from beneath Sage's door, and she had a
radio on, but for all practical purposes she
had retired to her room for the night, too.

At the door of the guest bedroom, which
Laurie had hospitably prepared for her,
Devon turned to Lucky. 'Tomorrow we'll
begin again, asking questions about anybody
who might be harboring a grudge against
you. One by one we'll eliminate them.'

'Okay.'

'Let me know if you think of anyone else,
and I'll add him to my list.'

'Okay.'

'Are you listening?'

'Of course.' Actually he wasn't. 'You
sleepy?'

'A little.'

'I'm not. I've never been so keyed up.'

'I started out this morning with a
hundred-mile drive, remember?'

He nodded, but his eyes were fastened on
her neck with the single-mindedness of a
vampire. 'Is, us, is the bedroom okay?' he
asked, reluctant to leave her. 'Is the bed
comfy?'

'I haven't tried it yet, but I'm sure it will be
fine.'

'Is the room hot?'

'Not at all.'

'Too cool?'

'It's just right. Lucky.'
'Got everything you need?'
'Yes.'
'Towels?'
'Yes.'
'Soap?'
'Yes.'
'Toilet paper?'
She smiled. 'Your mother is a thorough and
gracious hostess. I even have a candy dish
I stocked with little candy bars.'
I 'Oh well, then I guess you've got
everything.'
'Mm-hmm.'
'But if you need anything else . . . '
'I won't.'
4 ... like extra blankets, pillows . . . ' He
bent his head and brushed his mouth across
hers. The.'
He kissed her, fluidly, first touching the tip
of his tongue to hers, then melding their
mouths together. Groaning, he placed his
arms around her and drew her against his
body, which was full and feverish with a
desire he'd studiously kept at bay until now,
when he couldn't restrain himself any longer.
Just one taste of her. Only one. Then he
might survive the night. But, by the second,
his mouth became more possessive, his
tongue more intimate, his hands more

seductive. She ground protesting fists against
his chest. He moaned her name when he
finally surrendered and raised his head.

'We can't, Lucky.'

'It's just a kiss.'

'No it isn't.'

'Just one kiss.'

'It's wrong.'

'I know, I know.'

'Then let me go. Please.'

He released her but didn't move away.
Their eyes met and locked in a searing gaze.
It gratified him to hear that she was as
breathless as he, and that her protests were
without conviction.

She slipped through the guest-room door
and closed it behind her, but not before he
saw in her eyes pinpoints of confusion and
passion that matched those burning in his.

He hardly slept a wink that night, knowing
she was only two doors away but unable to do
a damn thing about it.

After three days of that he was on the verge of
going stark staring mad. One by one the
names on their list of possible suspects had
fallen through the cracks of logic, reason, and
fact. No one who had a recent grievance

against him could have set the fire.
His mood was foul, his disposition sour, his
language vulgar, his patience depleted, and all
because he was desperate for Devon.
Her fourth morning in Milton Point she
told him over coffee, 'The farmer was our last
chance, and he was in Arkansas buying cattle.
It seems that the only people in town that
night were those who love you. I don't know
what else to do.'
'Is that right?' He sneered. 'I was under the
impression that you knew everything. I
thought you had a bag of tricks. Don't tell me
you've run out.'
Furiously she scraped back her chair and
stood up, heading for the kitchen door. As she
sailed past his chair he put out his arm,
encircled her waist, drew her between his
wide-spread thighs, and ground his forehead
against her stomach.
'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' He butted his head
against the soft heaviness of her breasts and
rubbed his face in the fabric of her blouse,
breathing in her fresh, clean scent. 'I know
I'm acting like a jerk, but I'm slowly dying,
Devon. I'm going to explode if -- '
'Somebody's coming.'
She backed out of his reach only seconds
before Laurie entered the kitchen, followed
by Sage. If Laurie noticed the steamy

atmosphere and their rosy, guilt-ridden faces,
she didn't acknowledge them. Sage, however,
split her knowing look between the two of
them and winked saucily.

'Well, hello. We're not interrupting anything,
are we?'

Lucky snarled at her.

'What's on your agenda today?' Laurie
asked.

'Actually we hadn't decided on anything
specific,' Devon said feebly.

'Well, if you ask me, which I realize you
haven't, you're overlooking the obvious.'

'What's that, Mother?'

Lucky glanced up at her, curious in spite of
his longing to thrash his impudent kid sister.
He welcomed his mother's opinion -- anything,
in fact, that would momentarily
distract him from his physical discomfort.

'That Cagney oaf and his unsavory friend.'

'Little Alvin and Jack Ed Patterson?'

Laurie gave a delicate shudder at the very
mention of their names. 'Detestable people, especially Jack Ed. And those Cagney
children were hellions from birth.'

'But they're so obvious,' Lucky argued.

'Maybe they figure that's what everyone is
thinking and are using it to their benefit.'

Devon and Lucky's eyes met as they
considered the possibility. 'She's got a point,'

Devon said. 'They certainly were peeved at
you.'
'But they've got ironclad alibis.'
'Lies,' Sage retorted succinctly. 'They've
terrorized people into lying for them.'
Lucky gnawed his lower lip as he thought it
through. 'It wouldn't be too smart to
confront them. We promised Pat there would
be no more trouble. Besides,' he said with a
grin, 'I might not come out alive if I have
another fight with Little Alvin.'
'So, what are you thinking?' Devon asked.
'Little Alvin is as strong as an ox and
meaner than Satan, but he's no mental giant.'
'I agree. Jack Ed would have masterminded
the fire.'
'So let's use Little Alvin's cerebral
weakness to our advantage.'
'How?' she asked.
Lucky leaned back in his chair and slapped
his thighs with satisfaction. 'With the thing I
do best. A con.'

As they pulled up in front of the rusty mobile
home, Devon nervously wet her lips and
asked, 'How do I look?'
'Plumb mouth-watering.' Lucky switched
[off the Mustang's motor.

She tipped up the lenses of her dark
glasses. 'With this?' Sage had done an
excellent job of painting on a black eye, using
her vast array of eye shadows and shading
crayons.

'Even with that.' He was tempted to lean
across the car's console and kiss her. But glancing
at the windows of the mobile home, he
realized Little Alvin could be watching them.

'You'll have to open your own door.' He
vaulted over the driver's door and headed for
the trailer without giving her a backward
glance. He knocked loudly on the front door
of the trailer, then bawled over his shoulder at
her. 'Hurry up, will you?'

She moved into place beside him and
muttered out the side of her mouth. 'Macho

Pig.'

The whispered words were barely out of

her mouth when the front door was opened
with such impetus, the entire building rocked
on its concrete-block platform.

'What the hell do you want, Tyler?'

With admirable aplomb, Lucky stood his
ground and growled back. 'First off, I want to
be invited inside.'

'What for?'

'I'll tell you when I get inside.'

'When bore hogs grow teats. Get the hell
off my porch.'

Little Alvin tried to slam the door in their
faces, but Lucky caught it before it closed.
'We either come in now alone, or come back
later with Sheriff Bush. Then the decision
won't be left to you.'
Alvin regarded Lucky suspiciously, then
gave Devon a lecherous leer. 'Would the little
lady like to come in by herself?'
'The little lady would not,' said Lucky,
grinding his teeth.
Alvin cursed, then turned inside and
indicated with his head that they should
follow. Lucky was about to step aside and let
Devon go first, when she gave him a slight
shove as a reminder that he was supposed to
be portraying the role of a heel.
The place was a pigsty. It was furnished
cheaply and littered with the debris of numerous meals and a collection of empty
liquor bottles and beer cans. The only
decorations were centerfolds that had been
cut out of the crudest mens' magazines and
taped to the walls.
One look at those and Lucky felt Devon
stiffen beside him. Just to be ornery, he
walked over to one and studied it at length,
murmuring an 'hmm' of approval. He didn't
wait for an invitation to sit down, but
sprawled on a sofa. Taking Devon's hand, he
dragged her down beside him and threw an

arrogantly possessive arm around her.
'Whaddaya want?' their host asked.
'A cold beer would be nice. One for me
and one for her,' Lucky replied, jerking his
head down toward Devon.
Scowling, Little Alvin lumbered into the
adjacent kitchen and returned several
moments later with three beers. After handing
them theirs, he sat down across from them in
what was apparently 'his chair.' There was a
greasy spot on the headrest and worn spots in
the upholstery where his behind fit into the
seat and on the cushion where his feet rested
when it reclined.
'Well?' he asked belligerently, after taking a
sucking swig from his can of beer.
'Pat Bush gave me twenty minutes to make
a deal with you.'
Little Alvin barked a laugh. 'You gotta be
crazy, Tyler. I ain't making no deal with you
about anything.'
'I told you he wouldn't do it,' Devon
muttered.
'And I told you to keep your mouth shut
and let me handle this,' Lucky snapped,
shooting her a threatening glance. 'He may be
dumb, but he's not stupid.'
'Now just a damn -- '
Lucky interrupted. 'You want to hear this
or not? Because every minute that you sit

here shooting off your fat mouth is one
minute you come closer to spending time in
federal prison.'
Tor what?'
Devon laughed. Lucky frowned with
impatience. 'For what?' he repeated scornfully.
'Look, Alvin, cut the crap, all right?
They've got enough evidence on you guys to
send you to jail . . . even without a trial.'
They saw a chasm open up then in his
armor of insolence. His smug grin faltered.
'What do you mean? What evidence?'
'Evidence, okay? There's not enough time
to detail it all.'
'When are you going to tell him about the
paper?' Devon whined.
Lucky cursed, acting as if she had
distracted him. 'Will you put a lid on it and
give me time to get this other business over
with first?'
At the prearranged signal Devon removed
her sunglasses and revealed her black eye. 'I
don't care about that stupid fire. You said -- '
'What about the evidence the sheriffs got?'
Little Alvin asked anxiously, cutting into their
lovers' spat.
'Let me handle my business with the man
first, okay? Then we'll get to yours.' Lucky
turned back to Alvin and lowered his voice.
'She looked so damn good in the place, you

know? Now . . . ' He flung up his hands in
exasperation. 'Might have ended up better for
everybody if you'd got her that night instead
of me. Anyway, where was I?'

'The evidence they've got on me,' Alvin
squealed.

'Oh yeah, well, they're keeping the files
officially closed. All I know is that Pat
promised to pick up Jack Ed first, but who
knows how long that might take? He could
arrive any minute now.' For good measure he
glanced over his shoulder through the ratty
curtains at the window.

'They're picking up Jack Ed?' Sweat
popped out on Little Alvin's porcine face.

'As we speak. You know what a weasel that
little s.o.b. is. He'd rat on his own mother.
Lord only knows what he's gonna tell them
about you. Probably that the fire was all your
doing.'

Little Alvin Cagney made a whimpering
sound like a toddler who'd momentarily lost
sight of his mother and lunged for the door.
Anticipating that, Lucky was right behind
him, catching him by the collar and hauling
him back.

'We're here to help you, Alvin.'

'You think I was born yesterday, Tyler?'

'If you turn state's evidence, you'll get a
lighter sentence. Otherwise, you're history.'

'Liar.' Little Alvin twisted and turned,
trying to work himself free. Lucky hung on
tenaciously. 'Why would you come to warn
me, Tyler?'

'I wouldn't. But Pat would. He needs one
more piece of evidence to nail Jack Ed. Since
he knew we were coming to see you on this
other matter, he asked me to offer you a deal.
Real decent of him, wasn't it? See, everybody
knows that Jack Ed was the brains behind the
arson, but they can't prove it.'

'Th-that's right,' Little Alvin stammered.
'Hell, I wasn't even thinking straight that
night. You had kicked my nuts up to the back
of my throat. But Jack Ed said -- '

'Save it,' Lucky hissed. 'Give all the details
to Pat when he gets here, things like where
Jack Ed got those flares.'

'His sister's garage,' he babbled. 'Her
husband works for the highway department.
Jack Ed said they'd think you did it because
you carried flares -- '

'I said save it. I'm not interested. When
they find the flares, they're sure to find the
gas cans, too.'

'Yeah. We got them out of his brother-in-law's
gar -- '

'I said save it for Pat.' He pushed Little
Alvin back into his chair. The football
lineman was quivering, a hairy blob of

perspiring ectoplasm.

'Now that that's out of the way, will you see
to my business?' Devon asked in a petulant
tone.

Lucky blew out a breath. 'Sure, sure. Get
him something to write with.'

'Write? Write what?' Alvin's eyes darted
warily between Devon and Lucky.

'Did you read in the newspaper about her
old man being in prison?'

Dumbly, Alvin nodded.

'Well, he accused her of taking up with me
long before the night of the fire. He claims
we'd been seeing each other even before he
went to the pen. If the prison guards hadn't
restrained him . . . '

Gesturing toward her black eye. Lucky
trailed off ominously. 'Anyway, could you just
jot down a statement that I picked her up in
the place? That it was just an accidental
meeting.'

'Sure, sure. I can do that.'

'Good. I don't give a damn what her old
man thinks, but she kept nagging me about it.
You know how women are.' Devon handed
Alvin a piece of paper and a pencil. 'While
you're doing that, I'll call Pat on his mobile
phone. I hope we're not too late. I'll tell him
you're ready to talk. Right?'

'Right, right,' Little Alvin agreed eagerly.

'My folks warned me not to trust Jack Ed.'
'They were right/ Lucky said sagely. 'When
it comes to brains, you can't even compare
you two.' He clapped Alvin on the shoulder as
though they were old friends. 'His brother-in-law's
garage, huh? I don't even want to know
where he lives.'
'Off Route Four. By that big grain silo.'
Lucky looked at Devon over the top of
Alvin's head and smiled.

They laughed so hard that tears streamed
down their faces and they kept collapsing
against each other. 'By the time Pat got there,
Little Alvin was blubbering like a baby about
the atrocities inflicted on celebrities like him
in prison. I always suspected that underneath
his meanness he was nothing but a
chicken-livered coward. Now I know it's
true.'
The Tylers were gathered in the living
room. Chase, Tanya, Laurie, and Sage were
the enthralled audience.
'I actually started feeling sorry for him,'
Devon said.
'Is that why you brewed him a cup of tea?'
'Tea?' Chase hooted. 'Little Alvin sipping
tea?'
'She borrowed a tea bag from one of his
neighbors in the trailer park, brewed him a
cup, and insisted he drink it while Pat and a
deputy were waiting for Alvin's attorney to
get there so they could take his deposition.'
'Well, I think that was a lovely gesture,'
Laurie said, coming to Devon's defense. 'But
I can't say that I feel sorry for Alvin. Those

Cagney kids were allowed to run roughshod
over everybody without any parental supervision.
It's a wonder to me they're not all
behind bars by now.'
'What about Jack Ed?' Chase wanted to
know once he had contained his laughter.
'They've got an arrest warrant out for him.
Since he thinks he's in the clear, he shouldn't
be too hard to find.'
'Oh, I'm so glad you're off the hook,'Tanya
said.
'Hopefully things will get back to normal
now,' Sage said. 'By the way, Lucky, I went
into town this morning and saw Susan Young
at the dry cleaners. She kept her eyes to the
floor. That's the first time since I've known
her that she hasn't looked down her nose at me.'
'Her dirty, rotten trick almost backfired
this time,' Chase said. 'It put the fear of God
into her.'
'Or the fear of Lucky,' Sage said, grinning
at her brother.
Chase stood and extended a hand down to
assist Tanya up. 'I'm going to the office and
call the insurance company. Now that we've
been cleared of any criminal charges, they can
process our claim.'
'What will we do with the money?' Lucky
asked him. 'Pay back the bank in full, or
replace the equipment we lost in the fire?'

'We need to discuss how to allocate it,'
Chase said.

'Not right now, you don't,' Laurie said. 'I
don't want talk about business to spoil the
mood.' She took Tanya's arm as she walked
with her to the door. 'How's the house hunting?
Find anything yet?'

'This morning,' Tanya reported with a
smile. 'Marcie took me to see one I really
liked. I want Chase to see it.'

'Soon,' he promised.

'How are you feeling?' Laurie inquired.

'Fit as a fiddle. A little indigestion in the
evenings.'

They said their good-byes and left.
Celebrating his brother's liberation, Chase
honked his car horn as they sped down the
lane toward the main road.

'Know what I feel like?' Lucky said. 'A
good, galloping ride. Who's game?'

'Sage and I have to pass,' Laurie said.
'We've got dental appointments in town.'

'Oh, Mother -- '

'I won't cancel it again, Sage. I've canceled
three times already.'

After an exchange that Sage was destined
to lose, she reluctantly followed her mother
out the back of the house where Laurie
always parked her car. Lucky turned to
Devon.

'That leaves you.'
'I really should be getting back to Dallas.'
'Mother obviously expects you to stay
another night.'
'How do you know?'
'She didn't say goodbye.'
'She did so.'
'That? That wasn't one of her formal
good-byes. Her formal good-byes take forever.
Lots of hugs and Kleenex and stuff.'
'There's nothing to keep me here any
longer, Lucky.'
'Surely you can spare an hour for a
horseback ride,' he said cajolingly. 'Besides,
you can't leave the family without first going
through the rite of a formal goodbye.'
His smile was so disarming, she capitulated
after offering only a few more token excuses.
'Give me time to wash off my black eye and
change clothes,' she said, heading for the
stairs.
'Meet you in the stable.'

Devon reigned in behind Lucky, choking on
the dust his mount had kicked up. 'No fair,'
she shouted. 'You cheated!'
'Naturally,' he admitted breezily as he swung
his leg over his saddle and dismounted. 'How

else could I be guaranteed to win?'
Devon slid from her saddle and jumped to
the ground. 'Then Lucky is a misnomer. You
win by cheating.'
Laughing, he took the reins from her and
walked both horses into the stable. Its
shadows were cool and refreshing in comparison
to the sunny heat of the afternoon.
'I've had my share of luck, too,' he told her.
Skillfully he removed the saddles from the
horses, then began walking them up and
down the center aisle of the stable to cool
them off. Devon walked alongside him.
'Is that how you got your nickname?'
'Sort of.'
'Who gave it to you?'
His tanned face broke into a wide grin.
'Chase.'
'Why?'
'Well, he and some of his buddies . . . ' He
paused and glanced down at her. 'Sure you
want to hear this?'
'I'm sure.'
'Okay. Just remember you asked.'
'It sounds sordid.'
'It is. One night when I was about
fourteen, I blackmailed Chase and some of
his friends into including me when they took
out one of the boys' family car. We ended up
over in Kilgore at a bowling alley. They'd

gone there looking for a woman.'
'Just any ol' woman?'
'No. A particular woman.'
'Dare I ask why? Here, let me help.' She
scooped grain into a feed bucket while Lucky
rubbed down the gelding she'd been riding.
'Tell me about the woman.'
His hands, one holding a currycomb,
worked efficiently and smoothly over the
animal's flesh. 'She had a stupefying body,
and showed it off to the yokels like us. Got
her kicks wearing tight sweaters without a
bra. That kind of thing.'
They moved to the next stall and began
working together on the horse Lucky had
been riding. 'What happened?' Devon asked
as she positioned the feed bucket where the
animal could reach it.
'I guess I wanted to prove that I was as
much a stud as the rest of them even though
I was younger. So I approached her and
struck up a conversation.'
'About what?'
'My father, who had been falsely accused
of being a spy and was imprisoned somewhere
behind the Iron Curtain.'
Devon's hands fell still. She laughed with
[disbelief. 'And she bought it?'
'I guess so. I never knew. Maybe she was
just tired of the bowling alley. Anyway, when I

told her I was collecting aluminum cans to
recycle so I could raise the money to buy his
way out of a Communist country, she invited
me to her house and said I could have all the
cans I could find.'

Devon followed him to a deep utility sink
at the back of the building where they washed
their hands, sharing a bar of soap. 'Meanwhile,
Chase and his friends don't know what
you're telling her,' Devon said as she shook
water off her hands before pulling a towel
from the rack.

'Right. They thought she was taking me to
her house for prurient purposes.' He bobbed
his eyebrows. 'Behind her back, I was giving
them the high sign, fanning my face, stuff like
that, which would indicate that she was hot
for me and vice versa.'

'I've got the picture.'

'So I rode with her to her house. I felt like
a damn fool fishing soda cans out of her trash
and placing them in the grocery sack she had
provided. Although the scenery was good.'

'Scenery?'

'The body.'

'Oh yes, the body.'

'She was an adolescent boy's dream. From
an adult point of view — my taste has been
considerably refined,' he said, raking his eyes
down Devon's slender shapeliness, 'I realize

she was a little overblown. Back then, though,
I thought she was something.
'So, with my eyes glued to her bosom, I'm
riffling through her garbage looking for cans,
and she's chattering about how admirable it
is of me to undertake this dangerous mission
and how terrible it must be to be imprisoned
in a foreign land. She had a ten-plus body,
but a single-digit IQ.'
'The type who causes the feminist movement
to nosedive.'
'Exactly. She was a prototype.'
He led Devon into a small room at the
back of the stable. In it were a couple of
chairs, a double bed with an iron headboard,
which at some point in its long life had
been painted china blue, and a compact
refrigerator.
He pulled the string dangling from the
ceiling fan, and it began to hum as it
circulated the warm, still air. He took two
canned drinks from the refrigerator and
handed one to Devon, opening the other for
himself.
'She never made a move on you?'
He shook his head with chagrin. 'In
retrospect I scolded myself for laying it on so
thick. I finally worked up enough nerve to
embrace her, and she comforted me! Saying
things like 'Poor baby.'

'In her eyes I was too damn noble to be
corruptible, much less horny. When it came
time for me to go — when there were no
more cans in the house — I told her I'd go
out the back. See, I knew Chase and the
others would have followed us and were
watching her house.

'With this rattling sack of cans in my arms,
I went out her back door and hid in the
bushes. It was an hour longer before the other
guys started honking the car horn for me. I
had taken off my shirt, given myself a few
scratches across the chest and belly, messed
up my hair, all to give the general impression
that I'd just been laid by a she-cat.'

Devon's expression was a mix of incredulity
and hilarity. Groping behind her for the
edge of the bed, she sat down. The ancient
springs creaked. 'I can't believe this. Proving
your manhood was that important to you?'

'At that point in time I guess it was.
Anyhow, the guys fell for it. By the time I got
finished with my breathless, lurid account,
they thought she'd taken me to bed and that I
had experienced what they'd only dreamed
about. That's when they started calling me
Lucky. To this day, they don't know any
different.'

'Not even Chase?'

'No.' His brows steepled. 'You're not going

to tell him, are you?'
Laughing, she flung her arms behind her
head and fell back onto the bed. 'And spoil
the masculine myth? I wouldn't dream of it.'
'Good.' He sat on the edge of the bed and
smiled down at her. 'The point would be
moot anyway, because it wasn't long after
that night that I really became a man with a
girl in my algebra class.'
Devon's smile faltered; she averted her
eyes. 'Women have always been easy conquests
for you, haven't they?'
She started to sit up, but Lucky slid his
palms against hers and exerted enough
pressure to keep the backs of her hands lying
supine on the cheap bedspread beneath her.
'All but one, Devon. Nothing with you has
been easy.'
'Let me up.'
'Not yet.'
'I want to get up.'
'So do I,' he whispered hoarsely before
covering her lips with his.
Their mouths came together hungrily and
clung. He thrust his tongue between her lips,
between her teeth, into her mouth. Their
fingers interlocked as he moved his body
above hers and used his knee to separate hers.
He released her hands and drove his up
through her loose hair. They held her head

still while his mouth gently ate hers. All
resistance gone, she closed her arms around
his torso, hugging him to her tightly. Her
hands ran up and down his back, gripping the
firm musculature.
Overhead the fan droned, fanning their
bodies, which burned hotter by the second.
From the stable came an occasional snuffling
sound made by horses. But the throaty
sounds of want and need were all that echoed
through their heads.
He tore his mouth from hers and peered
deeply into her eyes. 'I want you, Devon.
Damn, but I want you . . . '
He kissed her again, ravenously, while he
grappled with the buttons on her plain white
shirt. When they were undone, he pushed the
fabric aside. The front clasp of her bra fell
open at a flick of his fingertips. He caressed
her. His eyes adored her. His mouth drew in
her sweet flesh and sucked it tenderly.
'Lucky,' she breathed, half in anguish, half
in ecstasy. Her fingers tunneled through his
hair and clasped his head to her chest. Her
thighs parted. He nestled his middle in her
cleft, moved against it, rubbed it.
He kissed her breasts again and again;
using his tongue to excite them. When she
thought she couldn't be drawn any tighter,
any higher, he brushed her nipples with rapid

flicking motions of his tongue until they were
tingling.
For weeks he had tried convincing himself
that he wanted Devon Haines merely because
he couldn't have her. He had told himself
that his imagination had run rampant and
that their one time together hadn't been as
unique as his memory had made it out to be.
One taste of her, however, had shot that
theory all to hell. He wanted her. He wanted
her right now, and later today, and tomorrow,
and the day after that, forever. He wanted the
sight and sound and smell of her, the taste
and the textures of her.
He wanted her laughter and her temper.
He'd grown fond of her feminist defensiveness,
her clever, analytical mind, and the
delightful and annoying little surprises she
constantly pulled on him. He wanted
everything and all that Devon comprised.
As his lips kissed their way down her
smooth belly, he unfastened her jeans and
worked them past her waist. The open wedge
fascinated him and he continued to explore it
until he felt the softest hair against his lips.
'Devon,' he murmured with longing.
'Devon.'
Pressing deeper, he parted his lips and
kissed her earnestly. There was moisture and
heat and need, which he wanted to probe.

'No!' Suddenly she shoved him off, rolled
away, and drew herself into a ball. 'It's wrong.
I can't. I can't.'
Lucky stared down at her, gasping for
breath, trying to clear his head and make
sense of a senseless situation. He saw her
tears, but even before then he knew this
wasn't some trick. She was suffering spiritual
torment and emotional hell, and he couldn't
bear it.
'It's okay, Devon,' he said with soft gruffness, laying a hand on her shoulder.
He
made ineffectual attempts to draw her blouse
together over her breasts, the tips of which
were still rosy and moist from his caresses.
'I'd never want you to do anything that would
make you feel bad about yourself or about
me. Never.'
She turned her head and gazed up at him
through eyes shimmering with tears. 'I'm
married. Lucky.' Her voice trembled with
desperation. 'I'm married.'
'I know.'
The ancient bed rocked when he flung
himself off it and stamped through the door.
He paced the length of the stable a couple of
times, cursing fate, gnashing his teeth in an
effort to cool his passions and his temper.
However, when Devon appeared, his
temper dissipated. Her despair killed it as

nothing else could have. There were still tears
in her eyes. Her lips., which were swollen from
fervent kissing, made her look like a victim.
What did that make him? The culprit?
Yes.
`I'll walk you back to the house now,' he
said gently. She didn't take the hand he
extended to her, but fell into step beside him
as they moved from the stable to the house.
As soon as they entered, she said, 'It won't
take me long to pack.' Before he could stop
her, she ran upstairs.
He wished his mother allowed liquor in the
house. If he'd ever needed a whiskey, it was
now. The longest ten minutes of his life was
spent roaming the rooms of the house,
knowing that Devon was upstairs, preparing
to walk out of his life forever.
She had reached the bottom stair before he
heard her tread and rushed to confront her
there. At her side, she was carrying her
packed suitcase.
'Devon -- '
'Good-bye, Lucky. I'm glad everything
worked out well for you. Of course, there was
never any doubt in my mind that you would
be cleared of the charges. Thank your mother
for her hospitality, and say my good-byes to
everyone. They're all so kind, so . . . ' When
her voice cracked, she side-stepped him and

headed for the front door.

He caught her arm and spun her around.
'You can't just leave like this.'

I have to.'

'But you don't want to, Devon. Dammit, I
know you don't.'

'I'm married.'

'To a guy you don't love.'

'How do you know?'

He took a step closer. It was time to play
hard-ball. Their futures were at stake.
'Because if you did, you wouldn't have let me
make love to you that first time. You weren't
that sleepy. And you wouldn't have let what
just happened, when you were wide awake, go
so far.

'Know what else? I don't think he loves you
either. If he did, he wouldn't have acted like
he did when you went to explain things. He'd
be gut-sick, or outraged, or determined to
castrate and kill me, but he wouldn't act like
a kid whose favorite toy had been damaged.'

Her momentary defiance evaporated, and
she lowered her head. 'Whatever Greg says or
does isn't the issue. It's what we do that
counts. I'm leaving, Lucky. Talking about it
won't change my mind.'

'I can't let you just go.'

'You don't have a choice. Neither do I.'

Again she maneuvered around him. He

delayed her again. 'If you did have a
choice -- '
'But I don't.'
'If you did,' he repeated stubbornly, 'would
you want to stay with me?' She did something
then that she had avoided doing since coming
downstairs -- she looked at him directly.
The yearning in her eyes mirrored his own.
He exulted in it. Raising his hand, he stroked
her cheek. 'If you had a choice, would you let
me love you like I want to?' he asked in a
stirring voice.
The physical and emotional tug-of-war
between them was almost palpable. Her eyes
cried, yes, yes! But aloud she said nothing.
Instead, she turned toward the door.
'Good-bye, Lucky.'
Abysmally dejected, he dropped down onto
the bottom stair and listened to her light
footsteps cross the porch and crunch in the
gravel driveway. He heard her car door being
opened, then closed, and the growl of the
engine as she turned it on. He sat there long
after the motor could no longer be heard and
; she had had time to put miles between them.
He listened very closely to something else ¦-- his own being. He lusted after
this
woman's body more than all the other bodies
he'd ever known put together. His single
sexual experience with her stood out above all

the rest. He'd had many that were lustier,
crazier, faster, slower, but none as heart-piercingly
sweet, none that still haunted his
mind.
His heart was saying that his craving for
her wasn't entirely physical, however. He
could no longer even imagine a life without
Devon in it. There would be nothing to look
forward to. Days would be dreaded rather
than anticipated. Years. Decades.
His head was telling him that the situation
was hopeless and that he'd known that from
the time she had informed him she was
married. Their worst enemy wasn't Greg
Shelby; it was their own consciences. Neither
could engage in an unscrupulous affair, and if
they could, they wouldn't be attracted. They
would be two different people. What a brutal
irony, that the morals they respected in each
other made their being together impossible.
But James Lawrence Tyler wasn't only
lucky, he was eternally optimistic.
Nothing was impossible. He simply
wouldn't accept this situation. Fate couldn't
play a bad joke on him like this and get away
with it. It couldn't end this way, with Devon
just quitting his life and both of them being
miserable about it. No way. He wouldn't
allow it.
Hell no.

'Visits are limited to fifteen minutes.'
Lucky was shown into the room where, a
week earlier, Devon had met briefly with her
husband. 'I understand,' he said to the
official. 'Thank you for arranging this
meeting on such short notice.'
During the bleak hours of the night
before, it had occurred to Lucky that the
manly thing to do would be to confront
Devon's husband.
He wasn't yet sure what he was going to
say to Greg Shelby. Was he supposed to say
that he was sorry for making love to Devon?
What an appalling thought. He wasn't sorry
for it in the slightest. To say so would be a lie.
He supposed he would just come right out
and tell the man that he was in love with his
wife.
That, too, had occurred to him during the
bleak hours of the night.
For all his philandering, he'd always
figured that one day there would be a woman
who would make sexual fidelity not only an
obligation but a pleasure. Devon Haines was
that woman. She had made monogamy the

only form of sexual activity he wanted to
engage in.

As Tanya had done for Chase, Devon had
made all other women pale in comparison.
She could fulfill his every need and make
fulfilling hers a lifetime challenge that he
would look forward to meeting.

The idea of his child growing inside Devon
gave him goose bumps. It was probably the
goose bumps, and the lump that had formed
in his throat at the thought of making a baby
with her, that convinced him it was love.

Hand in hand with love came honor. That
was one lesson the Tyler children had been
taught by both their parents. If you loved
people, you might hurt them, disappoint
them, anger them, but you never, ever,
dishonored them.

It was that code of honor that had
compelled him to drive through the gates of
the country club prison to meet with her
husband.

'Are you Tyler?'

At the sound of the voice, Lucky came
around and got his first look at Greg Shelby.
Mentally he sighed with relief. He'd dreaded
meeting a Mel Gibson lookalike garbed in
righteous martyrdom and prison stripes.

Instead, facing him was a tanned, nice-looking
guy -- but not one Sage would deem

a hunk. It pleased him to note that Shelby's
hair was thinning.
'Mr. Shelby?'
'That's right.'
Carrying a chip on his shoulder the size of
Mount Rushmore, he moved into the room
and sat down on the sofa, laying his arm
along the back of it. His nonchalance
surprised Lucky. Surprised and provoked.
Why wasn't the son of a bitch going for his
throat? Didn't Devon deserve that?
Shelby said, 'I don't have to ask what you
want to see me about, do I?'
'I guess you don't. You read all about it in
the newspapers.'
'So did everybody else,' he remarked
bitterly.
Lucky sat down in a chair adjacent to the
sofa. The two men squared off and eyed each
other. 'I'm sorry you found out about it that
way,' Lucky said, meaning it. 'I know it
couldn't have been easy on you, but it was a
helluva lot worse on Devon.'
Shelby snorted. 'She's not in prison,
though, is she?'
'She didn't commit a crime.'
Lucky's bluntness momentarily took
Shelby aback. Then he grinned slyly. 'Some
would think that what she did with you was a
crime.'

'I don't. And you don't either.'
'How do you know what I think, Tyler?'
'If you were torn up over her adultery, we
wouldn't be discussing it so casually.'
Shelby gave him another wily grin and said
sarcastically, 'You're right. Devon's a veritable
saint. Her only crime was marrying a guy
destined for prison.'
Lucky leaned back in his chair as though
they were discussing the baseball season
instead of an issue that, depending on the
outcome, could determine his future.
'I wonder why she did that?'
Shelby regarded him shrewdly, then
shrugged. He left the sofa and went to pour
himself a cup of coffee from the dispenser.
'Want some?'
'No thanks.'
He blew on his hot coffee, then sipped.
'Devon wanted an inside, in-depth story on a
white-collar crime that most people would
merely label good business. Because I
claimed to be innocent, the victim of
manipulators too smart to get caught, the
case made damn good fodder for her
column.'
'She's got talent.'
'She sure as hell does. She had everybody
in Dallas rooting for me.' He frowned into the
Styrofoam cup. 'Too bad the judge and jury

couldn't read the newspapers. Maybe we
should have put her on the stand as a
character witness. She might have convinced
them of my innocence.'
'Like you convinced her?'
Again, Shelby shrugged noncommittally.
He was too clever to admit anything or to be
caught in a verbal trap. Lucky wanted to
pound his complacent smile to mush.
'Devon got out of our marriage what she
wanted,' Shelby said.
'If you're suggesting that all she wanted out
of it was a good column or two, you don't
know her at all.'
Shelby actually laughed. 'Maybe you're
right, Tyler. You probably know her at least as
well as I do.'
Lucky wasn't going to discuss Devon and
their relationship with this man, whom he
was despising more each minute they spent
together.
Shelby finished his coffee and tossed the
cup into the wastepaper basket. 'I've been a
model prisoner, you know,' he said conversationally.
'I don't complain about the food. I
keep my quarters neat. I don't pick quarrels
with the other inmates. I had a good chance
for an early parole.'
He turned a menacing stare on Lucky.
'Then you banged Devon, and she didn't

even have the good sense to keep it quiet.'
Lucky's hands balled into fists, but Shelby
was so caught up in his own wrath, he didn't
notice that or the flexing motions of Lucky's
jaw.
'I didn't want any wrinkles in my plan. My
lawyer said I had a good chance to get out the
first time I was reviewed for parole, if there
wasn't a blemish on my record. Now this,' he
spat. 'Of course, it has nothing to do with me
personally, but they're bound to figure that
our hasty marriage was a gimmick to try and
keep me out of here by swaying public
opinion in my favor.'
'Which it was.'
Lucky was fully enlightened on Shelby's
character now. He had manipulated Devon
into feeling sorry for him and marrying him
on the spur of the moment, as girls marry
soldiers on their way to the front trenches. He
hadn't thought a man could stoop that low,
could use someone so unconscionably, but
Shelby didn't have a word of regret for how
this scandal had affected Devon. All his
concerns were for himself.
He was saying, 'I mean, if my wife's
bedding other men, it sure as hell doesn't say
much for our marriage, does it?'
'No, it doesn't.' Lucky came to his feet.
'Tell me something. Did you ever love her?'

'Love her?' Shelby repeated scornfully.
'That's the real joke on me. There was a
possibility that Devon's stirring prose might
keep me out of prison, so I milked that for all
it was worth. It didn't work.
'Then I married her on the chance that
would help, but lost that gamble too. So what
have I got? A wife who's no use to me at all.
In fact, she's a liability now that she's made
her own notorious headlines. And the real
kicker is that I haven't even availed myself of
the consolation prize, her sweet body.'
Lucky's heart slammed against his ribs.
Only excellent control kept him from audibly
gasping. His ears rang with Shelby's words. A
shudder passed through his body.
'Stupid bitch. If she's going to pass it
around, the least she could do is keep her
affairs secret until I'm released.'
Lucky, elated and furious in equal measure,
had to get out of there or he was going
to ram his fist through Shelby's front teeth.
Over the last few weeks he had learned the
wisdom of exercising self-control.
He stretched his arm straight out in front
of him and aimed an index finger at the
center of the prisoner's chest. His eyes were
as cold and blue and still as a fjord.
'When you get out of here, I'm gonna beat
the hell out of you.'

Having made that promise, he pivoted on
his bootheels and stalked toward the door.
There, he turned and, almost as an
afterthought, added, 'Before long, it won't
matter to you who Devon is sleeping with.
She's getting an annulment.'

When the office door was pushed open,
Chase glanced up from the paper work he'd
been doing. He was surprised to see Tanya
come in, followed by a tall, attractive woman.
'Goosey!' He stood and rounded his desk
to greet his former classmate with a
handshake, then a quick, hard hug.
'Hi, Chase,' she said, laughing. 'It's good to
see you.'
'Why haven't you been to any of our class
reunions?' Smiling down into Marcie Johns's
face, he said, 'You look fantastic'
'I can't believe you're calling her by that
horrid name!'Tanya exclaimed.
'You didn't take any offense, did you?'
Chase asked.
'Of course not. If I could bear it as a
sensitive, self-conscious adolescent, I can bear
it as a mature adult. As for the class reunions,
I lived in Houston for several years, and it
was never convenient for me to make one.'

Chase regarded her approvingly. 'You're
really looking terrific, Marcie. The years have
been more than kind. They've been generous. I hear your business is going great
guns, too.'
'Thank you, and yes, I've enjoyed being in
business for myself. The economy has slowed
things down the past year or two, but I'm
hanging in there.'
'Wish I could say the same,' he remarked
good-naturedly.
'Oh, I understand you've got something
very happy to celebrate.'
'I told her about the baby,' Tanya informed
him. 'And she's convinced me that even
though our budget is tight, we can afford a
house, and that now is an excellent time to
buy. It's a buyer's market,' she said, repeating
Marcie's words.
'Should I be reaching for my checkbook?'
he asked teasingly.
'Not yet. Marcie and I want you to come
see the house she showed me yesterday. I
think it's perfect. Will you come?'
'What, now?'
'Please.'
'Sorry, sweetheart, but I can't.' Tanya's
animated face became crestfallen. 'If it was
any other time, I would, but I'm expecting a
rep from the insurance company. He was
supposed to be here right after lunch, but

called to say he was running late. I need to be
here when he arrives.'

'I read in the morning papers that your
brother had been cleared of those ridiculous
arson charges,' Marcie said.

'Is there another problem, Chase?'

'No,' he said, reassuringly pressing Tanya's
hand between his. 'We just need to go over
the inventory list of all the equipment we lost
and discuss our claim.'

She sighed with disappointment. 'Well,
maybe tomorrow.'

'Or even later today,' he offered. 'Why
don't you go look at the house again, and if
you're still excited about it, call me. Maybe I
can meet you there after he leaves. That is, if
you're free, Marcie.'

'I blocked out the entire afternoon for
Tanya and you.'

Tanya was smiling again. She threw her
arms around Chase's neck and kissed him
soundly on the mouth. 'I love you. And
you're going to love this house.'

With his arms around her waist he hugged
her tight. 'I probably will, but not as much as
I love you. Call me later.'

Following them to the doorway, he waved
them off.

'I know you're looking at me through the
peep-hole. I'm not going to leave until I see
you, even if it means climbing over your fence
again. Save us both the trouble, okay?'
Devon unlatched the lock and pulled open
the door. 'You shouldn't be here, Lucky.
You're only making things worse by -- '
Her words were stifled by his mouth, which
swooped down to claim hers in a scorching
kiss. With his arms locked tightly around her,
he walked her backward into the nearest wall.
Securing her in place by tilting his body
forward at the hip, he cupped her head
between his hands and held it still for his
plundering mouth.
The kiss left her breathless and unable to
speak. He used that to his advantage. 'I drove
straight here from the prison where I had a
chat with Greg Shelby.' Ignoring her sudden
intake of breath, he doggedly continued,
'Notice I didn't call him your husband,
because in the strictest sense of the word, he
isn't, is he, Devon?'
'Yes,' she cried mournfully.
'No. I'm more married to you than he is.'
He swept her into his arms and carried her
into the bedroom, keeping his gaze riveted on
hers, which was wide with disbelief. Depositing
her gently on the bed, he followed her
down.

'I knew there was something odd about
that night, something I should remember.' He
spoke rapidly, the words tripping over each
other. 'But I could never pinpoint what it
was. Now I can. You were a virgin. I was your
first and only lover. Not Shelby. Not any
man. Me. Right, Devon?'

She closed her eyes. Tears leaked from
them and rolled down her cheeks. She
nodded. Lucky released a long-held sigh and
bent down to rest his forehead on hers.

'Your marriage to him was never consummated?'

She shook her head no.

'Thank God.' His breath ghosted over her
tear-streaked features. He sipped a cloudy,
salty droplet from the corner of her lips, then
whisked them with his tongue.

Their open mouths sought each other. It
wasn't as tempestuous a kiss as the previous
one, but it was deeper, longer, wetter, more
meaningful, their searching tongues conveying
unspoken emotions.

Slowly, article by article, he removed her
clothing, stopping occasionally to admire,
pet, kiss areas of her body that up till now he
had only imagined. He had explored them
first in darkness and knew them only by
touch. Now his eyes had a sensual feast as he
marveled over each curve and contour.

Placing her hands above her head, he ran
his fingers down the pale undersides of her
arms. His hands brushed across her breasts,
causing the nipples to peak, then down her
belly, over her navel, to her thighs. He
caressed the satin texture of each one,
delighting in their slender shape. The muscles
of her calves perfectly fit his palms. He
stroked her slender ankles, the arches of her
feet, and ran his thumbs along the pads of her
toes.
She was lovely all over, but between her
thighs she was so beautifully, wonderfully
woman, it made his heart ache. Palming her
soft mound, he bent over her and made love
to her mouth with his tongue, delving and
withdrawing with a tempo that fired their
imaginations and their blood.
With anxious longing, she quietly cried his
name. He removed his expertly caressing
hand and calmed her by dusting her face with
light, airy kisses. Leaving the bed, he
undressed.
The blinds were open. Afternoon sunlight
streamed in, casting alternate strips of light
and shadow across his flesh, limning his body
hair with gold.
He had never known an ounce of modesty.
Yet, standing at the side of Devon's bed, as he
stepped free of his jeans and was left naked,

he experienced a twinge of uncertainty and
self-consciousness. Would his tall, lean body
appeal to her? His chest was hairy. Some
women didn't like hairy chests.

But when he returned to the bed and
stretched out beside her, she allayed his
misgivings by imbedding her fingertips in the
crinkly pelt on his chest.

To his supreme satisfaction, she explored
him with bashful but lustful curiosity. Her
deft caresses were driving him slowly mad,
but he forced himself to lie still and let her
explore to her heart's content. Dying of
pleasure wouldn't be a bad way to go.

At last, unable to take any more, he
captured her hand. Keeping his eyes on hers,
he sucked her fingertips while stroking her
palm with his thumb. He then carried her
hand down and folded it around his steely
erection. He held his breath, wondering if she
would accept or reject the gesture.

First with wonder, then with pleasure, then
with desire, her hand explored and caressed
his sex — the strong root, the smooth length,
the bead of moisture at its tip.

Groaning his ecstatic misery, he lowered
his head to her breasts. They were beautiful,
and he told her so as he rubbed his open
mouth over one flushed crest, then the other,
until they were stiff. Wantonly he kissed her

belly and that alluring delta of soft curls.
She murmured a low, throaty 'Please.'
He said that this time she had to be very
ready, very wet.

She said she was.
He tested her to see.
He waited no longer.
As her body closed around him, milking
him like a silken fist, he learned the difference
between having sex and making love. This
wasn't taking, but giving. It wasn't temporal,
but lasting. It wasn't just physical, but
emotional and cerebral. He was involved with
her, totally involved, from the tip of his
straining manhood to the outer perimeters of
his soul.
They mated eye-to-eye, smile-to-smile, heart-to-heart,
body-to-body, moving together with
sublime compatibility. She matched his even
strokes with a subtle undulation of her hips.
The closer they moved to climax, the
tighter she clung, the deeper he penetrated.
Gritting his teeth, he held back until he felt
the waves of sensation shimmy through her,
felt her gentle contractions around his
manhood, and saw the lights of ecstasy
explode and glimmer in her green eyes.
Only then did he release the rigid control
he had imposed on himself. He buried his
face in the soft fragrance of her hair and gave

himself over to the encompassing pleasure
that erupted from within him and into
Devon.

'Are you all right?' He felt the affirmative
motion of her head where it lay next to his on
the pillow. His lips grazed her ear as he
whispered, 'You're still so small.' He kissed
her throat. 'It's wonderful for me, but I know
it can't be very comfortable for you.'
He was already becoming aroused again,
and there was nothing he could do about it
except withdraw, and that was out of the
question. Readjusting their bodies slightly, he
heard Devon whimper, but not with pain.
With pleasure. He smiled into her neck.
'Did I hurt you that night in the motel?'
'No.'
'I must have.'
'Not much.'
'I remember thinking that something
wasn't right. Something was out of sync. But
I was so sleepy and so caught up in you that I
didn't stop to sort it out. I should have
known. You were so tight. So sweet.' Of its
own accord, his body stirred inside her and
her muscles contracted reflexively, leaving
them both breathless for a moment.

Panting, Lucky continued, 'I didn't
remember it later. Not until today when — '
He broke off, unwilling to let mention of
Shelby spoil the most pleasure he'd ever had
in bed. God, it just didn't get any better
than this.

'Today, when I realized that you were a
virgin that night and that I was the only man
you'd ever been with, hell or high water
couldn't have kept me away from you,
Devon.'

Then he groaned her name again and sank
deeper into the snug, liquid heat of her body,
and they both climaxed. Her throat arched
beautifully, and her limbs enfolded him as she
experienced her long, sweet release.

Moments later, lying face-to-face, he
brushed away the damp strands of hair that
clung to her flushed cheeks. Her eyes were
limpid and dilated, as though she had been
drugged.

'Lucky,' she said in a soft, sad rasp, lightly
touching his lips with her fingertips.

'That's me.' He smiled crookedly.

Without returning his smile, she rolled to
the opposite side of the bed and got up. He
appreciatively watched as her graceful body
moved from bed to closet and she wrapped a
robe around her slim nakedness. He was
charmed, especially when she used both

hands to free her sex-tousled hair from her
collar.

But when she turned to face him, his
enchantment dissipated.

'What?' he asked with perplexity.

'You've got to go now.'

He would have thought he hadn't heard
her correctly if her face weren't so pale and
blank of all expression. Throwing his legs over
the side of the bed, he reached for his jeans,
thrust his feet into them, and pulled them on
as he stood up. Tamping down his frustration,
and a twinge of fear, he approached her
calmly.

'That's the craziest statement I've ever
heard you say, Devon. What do you mean by
it?'

'Just what I said. You'll have to go now. And
this time our parting must be final. You can't
come back.'

'Does the expression 'fat chance' mean
anything to you?'

'Don't get angry.'

'I'm not angry. I'm incredulous.'

'Let's not make this difficult.'

He laughed hoarsely. 'It started out with a
fist-fight, Devon. It was difficult from the
beginning, and got more so each time we saw
each other. But dammit, we've just proved it's
worth fighting for. Tell me you think so, too.'

Gnawing her lower lip, she glanced away
and began fiddling with the knotted belt of
her robe. Her distress was plain. Lucky
softened his tone. 'Tell me what's wrong.'

'I'm married.'

'Not to him.'

'To him? she said with emphasis. 'Our
names are on the marriage certificate. We
signed it. In the eyes of the state -- '

'What about the eyes of God? Who's more
your husband? Him or me?'

'How dare you drag religion into this,' she
cried angrily. 'Are you suggesting that since
you've known me in a biblical sense, you have
a greater claim on me than Greg?' She tossed
back her hair. Her green eyes were stormy. 'If
you are spiritually married to every woman
you've slept with, then you're a polygamist!'

The barb hit home, and Lucky knew it
would be pointless to pursue that line of
reasoning. It had been worth a try, however.
This was one argument he had to win. He
had to pull out all the stops.

'You don't love him,' he stated flatly.

'No, I don't. But I'm still married to him.'

'And why? Why did you ever marry him?
He doesn't love you either.'

'At the time it seemed right.'

'I applaud your grand gesture, but, Devon,
surely you don't plan to throw away your

happiness and spend the rest of your life with
a jerk like him?'
'I have to stay married to him at least until
he gets out of prison.'
'He used you.'
'I know that.'
'He's a felon.'
'I know that, too.'
'You know he's guilty?' he asked, his jaw
dropping open.
She gave a terse bob of her head. 'I lied to
you before. I'm reasonably certain he did it.
At first I believed he was innocent. Later,
after he was incarcerated, I began to have my
doubts.'
'Why?'
'He refused to consummate our marriage.
Oh, he told me it was for my benefit. That
way, he said, if I wanted to get out of the
marriage, I could more easily. I thought he
was being self-sacrificing. He might still be.'
Lucky was shaking his head. 'He was
thinking of himself. He wanted to be able to
have the marriage annulled when you were no
longer useful. I'll bet that even now, he's
trying to figure a way to turn the scandal
about us to his advantage.'
She hung her head. 'The afternoon I met
you, I learned that he had been declining his
conjugal visits, something that I hadn't even

known was available until I heard another
prisoner's wife talking about it. I confronted
Greg. We had a big row. I couldn't
understand why he would reject his marital
rights.'
'Unless he was guilty not only of the crime,
but gross manipulation.'
'Yes.'
It was a tough admission for her to make,
but it only frustrated Lucky further. He
plowed his hand through his hair. 'Why
haven't you started divorce -- or annulment
-- proceedings?'
'Because I had used Greg just as much as
he had used me. I used his story to help
promote my column. That's when the Devon
Haines byline really began to mean something
to the newspaper. So I, as much as
Greg, profited from our marriage.'
'Devon, you've got incredible talent. Your
column would have succeeded anyway. Why
are you staying married?'
'Because I take my responsibilities seriously.
I can't just wash my hands of a
marriage because it's no longer useful,
because it's inconvenient.'
He shot down that argument with a curt,
'Bullshit. You just don't want to admit that
you were duped.'
'That's not true!'

He knew by her instantaneous and
adamant rebuttal that his guess had been
right. 'You always have to be in control,
calling the shots. It's impossible for you to
admit that twice your heart has overruled
your head. Greg's sob story got to you, and
you can't live with that. Rather than
admitting to a mistake in judgment, you'll
stubbornly stay married to him just to prove
you were right.'
'As long as there's the slightest chance that
he's innocent, I can't desert him while he's in
prison.'
Lucky's oaths were vicious. 'You don't
believe he's innocent any more than I do.'
'You said my heart had overruled my head
twice.'
He glanced at the bed. 'You've fought it
every step of the way, but you love me and I
damn well know it. We connected the first
time we laid eyes on each other. What you
can't own up to is that you're as vulnerable
between the thighs -- '
'I won't listen to your lewd -- '
'You don't want to be a weak nonentity like
your mother was, totally dependent on her
husband for everything. Okay. Fine. Guess
what, Devon? I don't want to wipe my feet on
you. I don't want a silent, submissive partner,
in or out of bed.'

'I have a husband.'
'He's not the issue. He never has been, or
so I found out this morning. You're just using
him as an escape hatch. This is between you
and me.'
He gripped her shoulders. 'You want a
career. Terrific. Have one. I'm all for it. But
have me, too. We can have each other and
make both our careers worthwhile.
'I want babies. The burden of that
responsibility falls on you, I'm afraid. But if
you consented to have my babies, I'd put you
on a pedestal and make it the most wonderful
experience of your life.'
He lowered his voice to a compelling,
tempting whisper. 'I've felt your passion for
me, Devon. I've tasted it. I know it's there.
Put your arms around my neck. Tell me you
need me. Admit you love me.'
'Twice you've persuaded me to break my
wedding vows. Isn't that enough for you?'
'I want us to exchange our own vows, vows
our bodies have already made. Vows you
haven't made with Greg or any other man.'
'I can't see you again, Lucky.'
'Say you love me.'
'I can't.'
'It's because of the way your mother died,
isn't it?' he demanded.
Devon fell back a step. 'What?'

'You turned a deaf ear to her and she died.
You take responsibility for her death.'

'Yes!' she cried. 'Wouldn't you?'

'Was she incapacitated? Bedridden? Homebound?
Unable to drive?'

'What are you getting at?'

'Could she have gone to the doctor alone,
Devon?' She hedged, and he knew he was on
to something. 'She laid that guilt on you
because her life had been miserable, and in a
warped way she wanted yours to be. She
probably wanted to die, and going about it as
painfully as possible was her way of
guaranteeing your attention for the rest of
your life. And in the same damn way, you've
shackled yourself to Shelby.'

'He might be innocent.'

'He isn't.'

'But if he is -- '

'You will have done all you could do to save
him from imprisonment.' He clamped down
on her shoulders. 'Devon, you can't take on
responsibility for the whole world. No one's
asked you to. You can't sacrifice your present
happiness because of what happened in the
past or what might happen in the future. Let
it go. Let them go. Focus on someone who
needs you here and now.'

He had never begged a woman for
anything. It was difficult for him to do so

now. It went against his nature as diametrically
as snow in the jungle. But, as he had
realized, this was one argument he couldn't
lose. His life depended on it.
'Don't throw away the best damn thing
that has ever happened to either of us. Not
for the sake of pride or principle or anything
else. Don't. I'm begging you, Devon, please
don't.' He bracketed her jaw with his hands
and tilted her head back. Enunciating each
word, he said, 'Tell me you love me.'
She stared him down, her features tortured
and emotional. Slowly her head began
moving from side to side, as far each way as
his hands would allow. Then, voice tearing,
she said, 'I can't. Please don't ask me to
again.'

Lucky's black mood didn't improve when he
got caught in a traffic jam as he approached
the outskirts of Milton Point. He cursed the
summer heat, the gloriously setting sun, cruel
fate. After sitting broiling in his open
convertible for several minutes, he got out
and flagged down a cattle truck that was
driving past in the opposite lane.

'What's caused this snafu?'

'Helluva wreck ahead of you,' the teamster
shouted down from the cab of his rig. 'Two
cars. Ambulances. Highway patrol and local
cops. The whole shooting match. You might
be here for a while, buddy.'

'Not likely,' Lucky muttered as he climbed
back into his Mustang. He was going to the
place, where he would drown out all thoughts
and memories of Devon Haines and her
senseless, stupid stubbornness if it took ten
gallons of Jack Daniel's to do it.

He was eventually able to maneuver the
Mustang out of the lane and onto the
shoulder of the highway. To the fury of other
stranded drivers, he breezed along the outside
lane, slowing up only when he came even

with the site of the wreck and the emergency
vehicles.

He was hoping to crawl past without
attracting attention., but his legendary luck
had deserted him. One of the officers flagged
him down and approached his car. Lucky
recognized him as a local sheriffs deputy.

'Damn.'

'Hey, Lucky, I thought that was you,' the
deputy called when he was still some distance
away. 'Stay put,' he ordered.

'But — '

'Wait right there.' The officer turned and
jogged toward a cluster of other officials.

Lucky blew out a gust of breath. Why the
hell was he being detained? He had just about
decided to disobey the deputy's order when
he noticed Pat Bush detaching himself from
the huddled group of officers.

'Pat,' he called, 'get me out of this — '

'Lucky.'

Pat's somber expression and hushed tone
of voice were out of character under the
circumstances. Pat usually commandeered
this kind of situation with professional
detachment. Lucky's impatience switched to
curiosity. 'What's going on?'

'Pull your car over there. I need to talk to
you.'

'What's the matter?' Lucky put on his

emergency brake and alighted. Something
was very wrong here. Pat was having a hard
time looking him in the eye, and Lucky
couldn't account for his strange behavior. He
was off the hook as far as the arson charge
went.

Alarmed, he glanced beyond Pat, toward
the tangled wreckage, and slumped with relief
because he didn't recognize either car
involved in the accident. 'Good God, Pat. You
had me thinking that one of — '

Pat laid a hand, a consoling hand, on his
arm. He and Pat exchanged a meaningful
glance. Then Lucky shook off Pat's hand and
broke into a run.

'Lucky!' Pat grabbed hold of his shirt.

'Who is it?'

'It's Tanya.'

Lucky's chest caved in painfully, his ribs
seeming to crack under the pressure of his
disbelief. 'Tanya?' he croaked. 'She's hurt?'

Pat lowered his eyes.

'No,' Lucky said in swift denial. What Pat's
silent gesture indicated was unthinkable. He
ran toward the ambulances, elbowing aside
anybody who dared to block his path.

Parting the crowd, he saw that an injured
woman was being worked over by paramedics.
When he heard her groans, he felt a burst
of relief. But as he drew nearer, he saw that

her hair color was wrong.

Frantically scanning the area, he spotted
another collapsible gurney. It was being lifted
into the ambulance. A black zippered bag had
been strapped to it. He lunged forward.

Pat stepped into his path and struggled to
stop him. 'Let go of me!' he shouted.

'It won't do any good to see her now.
Lucky.'

'Get out of my way!' Bellowing like an
enraged bull, he overpowered the older man,
shoved him aside, and charged for the back of
the ambulance.

The startled paramedics put up token
protests as he pushed them aside, but the
ferocity of his expression was intimidating,
and they fell back. Lucky reached forward
and unzipped the black plastic bag.

After one long, disbelieving gaze, Lucky
squeezed his eyes shut and spun around. Pat
signaled for the paramedics to finish their
business. Lucky didn't even respond when
the ambulance doors were slammed shut and
the vehicle drove off.

'You okay?'

Lucky looked at Pat, but he didn't really
see anything except his sister-in-law's still
white face. 'It's not possible.'

Pat nodded his head, as though agreeing. 'I
was just getting ready to notify Chase of the

accident and tell him to meet the ambulance
at the hospital.'

Lucky's chest heaved. He felt as if a
white-hot spike had been driven through his
heart. He thought he might vomit. 'No. This
is a family affair. I'll go. And nobody else tells
my mother or sister either, got that?'

'Lucky, this isn't the time to — '

'Got that?'

Pat backed down. 'All right. If that's the
way you want it.'

'That's the way I want it.'

'As soon as this is cleared up, I'll come out
to the house.'

Lucky didn't hear him. He was already
headed for his car. It was only a short
distance from the accident site to the office of
Tyler Drilling. On the one hand, it seemed
the longest drive he'd ever made. On the
other, he was there far too soon, before he
had found the words he must say.

Chase's car was parked out front. Lucky
pushed open the door of his Mustang. It felt
as though it weighed a ton. On his way into
the office he met Chase coming out.

'Hey, where've you been all day? Mother
said you struck out first thing this morning
and hadn't been seen since.' He was
obviously in a hurry, and didn't give Lucky
time to answer.

'George Young called and wants to know
when we plan to make that note payment.
That s.o.b. is still putting pressure on us, fire
or no fire. I heard from somebody at the
courthouse that Little Alvin and Jack Ed both
pleaded guilty to arson today and will be
sentenced sometime next week. I also met
with the guy from the insurance company for
two and a half hours. Thank God we kept up
those premiums. I'll tell you all about that
later. Right now I'm late. I'm supposed to
meet Tanya at -- '
'Chase, wait a minute.' He laid his hand on
his brother's shoulder, stopping him halfway
down the steps. His lips began to tremble,
and Chase's image blurred because of his
tears. Lucky's voice faltered. He unsuccessfully
cleared his throat. 'Chase -- '
God, how did one tell a man that the
woman he loved and the child she carried
were dead?

The following morning Marcie Johns was
moved out of intensive care and into a regular
room at St. Luke's Methodist Hospital. She
had suffered a concussion, a broken arm and
collarbone, and trauma, but none of her
injuries had been critical.

She was considered fortunate, since the
driver of the other vehicle involved in the
accident, a Texas Tech student home for the
summer, and Marcie's passenger, Tanya Tyler,
had been fatalities. The student had run a
stop sign and hit Marcie's car broadside.
Most considered it a blessing that he and
Tanya had died instantly upon impact.

Lucky had wanted to hit anybody he
overheard saying such a thing, and was only
glad that, so far, nobody had said it to Chase.

His brother wasn't himself. He was acting
like a crazy man. A little unreasonableness
was justified, but when he had announced
that he was going to the hospital to speak
with Marcie, the other members of his family
had been shocked and had pleaded with him
to reconsider. No amount of persuasion
could change his mind, however, so Laurie
had instructed Lucky to go with his brother
and 'take care of him.'

Together they walked down the corridor of
the hospital toward the room assigned to Ms.
Johns. 'Why are you so bent on seeing her?'
Lucky asked quietly, hoping that even now
Chase would change his mind. 'If anybody
catches us with her, they'll throw us out of
here. She's still in serious condition, and not
supposed to have visitors.'

Chase was walking with the determined

tread of a prophet on a mission. He pushed
open the door and entered the shadowed
room. Lucky, after a quick glance over his
shoulder, went in behind him. He vaguely
remembered Marcie Johns from high school,
and knew her now only by sight. She was an
attractive woman, but one couldn't tell by
looking at her now.
In spite of the fact that she had been
wearing her seat belt, she'd been thrown
against the windshield with enough force to
bruise and abrade her face. Both eyes were
ringed with bruises. Her nose and lips were
grotesquely swollen. On her shoulder was a
cast designed to keep her broken arm
elevated.
Lucky was moved to pity. 'Chase, for
godsake, let's get out of here. We shouldn't
bother her.'
He had spoken so softly that the words
were barely audible, but she heard them and
opened her eyes. When she saw Chase, she
moaned and made a move as though she
wanted to reach out to him.
'Chase, I'm sorry,' she wheezed. 'So sorry.'
Apparently she had been advised that her
passenger hadn't survived. She would have
had to know sooner or later, of course, but it
seemed to Lucky that later would have been
preferable. The additional mental anguish

couldn't be good for her body's healing
process.

'We ... we never even saw him.' Her voice
was thin and faint. 'It was just ... a racket
...and . . . '

Chase lowered himself into the chair beside
her bed. His features were distorted by grief.
Lines seemed to have been carved into his
face overnight. The area beneath his eyes was
almost as dark as Marcie's. His dark hair was
a mess. He hadn't shaved.

'I want to know about . . . Tanya,' he said,
his voice tearing on her name. 'What kind of
mood was she in? What was she saying? What
were her last words?'

Lucky groaned, 'Chase, don't do this to
yourself.'

Chase irritably threw off the hand Lucky
placed on his shoulder. 'Tell me, Marcie,
what was she doing, saying, when . . . when
that bastard killed her?'

Lucky lowered his forehead into one of his
hands and massaged his temples with his
thumb and middle finger. His insides were
twisted. He couldn't even imagine the hell
Chase was going through.

Or maybe he could. What if Devon had
been killed yesterday? What if, after he had
angrily left her, she had gone out and
needlessly been killed by a driver running a

stop sign? Wouldn't he be acting just as
unbalanced as Chase? Wouldn't he be
damning himself for not telling her one more
time that he loved her no matter what?
'Tanya was laughing/ Marcie whispered.
Pain medication had made her speech slow
and slurred. Chase clung to every careful
word she was able to speak. 'We were talking
about the house. She . . . she was so excited
about . . . about it.'
'I'm going to buy that house.' Chase
glanced up at Lucky, his eyes wild and
unfocused. 'Buy that house for me. She
wanted the house, so she's going to get it.'
'Chase -- '
'Buy the damn house!' he roared. 'Will you
just do that much for me, please, without
giving me an argument?'
'Okay.' Now wasn't the time to cross him,
although his brother's request made no sense
at all. But was a man who had just lost his
family required to be sensible? Hell no.
'Right before we went . . . through the
intersection, she asked me what color I
thought . . . ' Marcie paused, grimacing with
discomfort. ' . . . what color she should paint
the bedroom for the baby.'
Chase's head dropped forward into his
hands. 'Jesus.' Tears leaked through his fingers
and ran down the backs of his hands.

'Chase,' she whispered, 'do you blame me?'

Keeping his hands over his eyes, he shook
his head. 'No, Marcie, no. I blame God. He
killed her. He killed my baby. Why? Why? I
loved her so much. I loved . . . ' His voice
broke into sobs.

Lucky moved toward him and again laid a
comforting hand on his shaking shoulders.
Tears marred his own vision. For a long while
they were quiet. He realized a few minutes
later that Marcie had mercifully lapsed into
unconsciousness again.

'Chase, we'd better go now.'

At first Chase seemed not to have heard,
but he gradually dragged his hands down his
wet, ravaged face and stood up. 'Order some
flowers for Marcie,' he told Lucky as they left
the room.

'Sure. What do you want me to put on the
card? Do you want them to be exclusively
from you or from all of — ' He came to a
dead standstill when he spotted Devon
standing at the end of the hospital corridor.

Chase followed his brother's dumbfounded
stare. Devon came forward to meet them.
Her eyes moved from Lucky to Chase. 'Sage
called me early this morning,' she told him,
surprising Lucky. He hadn't known his sister
had phoned Devon. 'I got here as soon as I
could. I can't believe it, Chase.' Extending

her hand, she took Chase's, pressing it firmly.

'Tanya liked you. She admired you.'

Devon's smile was sweet and tearful. 'I
liked her, too. Very much.'

'So did I.' Chase didn't apologize for the
gruffness of his voice or the tears he
continued to shed openly. Indeed, he seemed
unaware of them. He addressed the two of
them. 'I'm going to the apartment now.'

'Mother is expecting you back at the
house.'

'I need to be by myself for a while, among
Tanya's things. Tell Mother I'll come out
later.'

Lucky wasn't so sure that Chase should be
alone, but figured he would have to wrestle
him to change his mind. He watched him
approach the elevator. Moving like an
automaton, he punched the button. The
doors opened instantly; he stepped into the
cubicle. The doors slid closed.

'He looks completely shattered, Lucky. Will
he be all right?'

Lucky glanced at Devon, who had been
standing quietly at his side. 'I doubt it. But
there's not a damn thing I can do about it.'

'Nothing you're not already doing. I'm sure
it's a comfort to him just knowing that he's
got your support.'

'Maybe. I hope so. He needs to find

comfort where he can.'

Hungry for the sight of her, he unapologetically
stared. Her hair looked a darker,
deeper shade of auburn against her black
dress and pale face. In the cold glare of
fluorescent lighting, her eyes appeared exceptionally
green. They were bright with tears.

'It was good of you to come, Devon,' he
said thickly.

'I wanted to.'

'How did you know where to find us?'

'I went to the house first. Sage said that I
had just missed you, and that you and Chase
were on your way here.'

He nodded toward the bank of elevators.
'Since Chase took the car, can I bum a ride
home?'

'Of course.'

They boarded the next available elevator
and rode it down in silence. Lucky couldn't
take his eyes off her. It seemed like a million
years since he'd held her, made fervent love
to her, yet it had been only yesterday.

Yesterday. Twenty-four hours. In that
amount of time lives had been irrevocably
altered, dreams shattered, loves lost. Life was
tenuous.

He came to a sudden stop on the
plant-lined path that wound through a
courtyard connecting the hospital complex

with the parking lot.
'Devon.' He took her shoulders between his
hands and turned her to face him. 'I'm going
to fight whatever or whoever I must to be
with you for the rest of my life, even if it
means fighting you first. Life's too damn
short and too precious to waste a single day
on misery and unhappiness.
'Listen to me. I love you,' he vowed, his
hands tensing, gripping her tighter. To his
consternation, his surging emotions manifested
themselves in tears again. Grief over
losing Tanya, pain for his brother's suffering,
sadness over the Tyler heir who would never
know life, love for Devon, all overwhelmed
him. He couldn't breathe for the tightness
surrounding his swelling heart.
She sighed when she saw his distress, then
placed her arms around his waist and laid her
head on his chest. 'I need you,' she whispered
earnestly. 'I love you.'
They came together in a fierce embrace.
And after they kissed, they wept.

Epilogue

Lucky entered the house by the front door.
'Hello? Anybody home?' He received no
answer. His mother was out. Sage was only
home on holidays and an occasional weekend,
since she was now in Austin at the
university. But Devon's red compact was in
the driveway, so she should be at home.

Then he heard the familiar click-clack of
her word-processor keyboard. Smiling, he
followed the sound past the stairway to the
rear of the house. Laurie's sewing room had
been converted into an office for Devon. The
conversion had taken place while Lucky and
she were away on their honeymoon; Laurie
had surprised them with it upon their return.

'I can't sew much anymore because of my
arthritis,' Laurie had told Devon when she
protested the generosity. 'The space was
being wasted.'

Over the last several months Devon had
made it her room, filling it with periodicals
and books, both fiction and nonfiction, which
she used for reference material or pure
reading pleasure. Sage's contribution had
been a wall calendar featuring a seminude

hunk-a-month. When Lucky had threatened
to take down 'the perverted eyesore/ Devon
had launched into a tirade decrying the
double standards and Sage had threatened to
cut off his hand if he tried.

The tragedy of Tanya's death, and Sage's
impending move to Austin, had precluded
Lucky from even suggesting that Devon and
he make their home elsewhere. Following
their quiet, private wedding, they moved into
the large house with Laurie. Lucky was
pleased with the arrangement and, apparently,
so was Devon.

The three women in his life got along very
well. Devon loved having a younger sister,
and Laurie showered on Devon the warmth
and affection that her inattentive mother
never had.

Lucky knocked on the door to the office,
but when he got no answer, he pushed the
door open anyway. As he had suspected, she
was engrossed in the green letters she was
typing onto the black terminal monitor.

Headphones bridged her head, blasting
her eardrums with music. Her taste was
eclectic; she liked everything from Mozart to
Madonna. He thought it was nutty, using
music to drown out distracting noise, but that
was just one of his wife's idiosyncracies
that intrigued him. Her contradictions had

attracted him from the beginning.

He waved his hand, so his sudden
appearance wouldn't startle her. When she
noticed him in her peripheral vision, she
turned her head, smiled, and removed the
earphones.

'Hi. How long have you been standing
there?'

He crossed to her and dropped a kiss on
her forehead. 'Almost long enough for the
rose to wilt.' From behind his back he
withdrew a single yellow rose. Her eyes
lighted up with pleasure as she accepted it
and rolled the soft, cool petals over her lips.

'You remembered.'

'Six months ago today you became Mrs.
Lucky Tyler.'

'Only twelve hours after I ceased being
Mrs. Greg Shelby.'

'Shh! Mother frowns on foul language
being spoken in this house.'

Lucky didn't have any charitable thoughts
toward Devon's first husband. True to his
word, the day he learned that Greg Shelby
was out on parole, he had driven to Dallas
and, following a hunch, located him at
Dallas/Fort Worth Airport, covertly about to
board an international flight. Lucky engaged
him in a fistfight. He had even maneuvered it
so that Greg threw the first punch. He hadn't

inflicted nearly as much physical damage as
he could have or wanted to, but the ruckus
had alerted airport security. When they were
told Shelby was a parolee about to leave the
country, the police were notified, thwarting
Greg's plans to retire to Switzerland with the
illegally obtained fortune he had banked
there.

In the resultant confusion Lucky managed
to slip away unidentified. He never told
anybody that he'd been instrumental in
Greg's second arrest, not even Devon, though
he would have liked for her to know he had
avenged her. He had to be content with the
personal satisfaction he'd derived from
drawing Shelby's blood.

Now he pulled Devon from her chair, sat
down in it himself, then drew her onto his
lap. She asked, `Do you think I'm a brazen
hussy for getting a quickie annulment one
day and marrying another man the next?'

'Shameful,' he growled into her neck.

'Stop that. I'm officially still working.'

'What's this column about?' He had
encouraged her to continue writing for the
newspaper, so she had made arrangements with her editor to work outside the
office and
mail her columns in on a weekly basis. Lucky
squinted into the screen, but the green
symbols always looked like Greek to him.

'Bereavement.'

Her softly spoken answer brought his eyes
back to her. 'Well, you've certainly got
firsthand experience to base your theories on,
don't you?'

'Did you see him today?'

Lucky nodded. They were all preoccupied
with Chase and his steady emotional decline
since Tanya's death. 'He put in an appearance
at the office this morning.'

'And?'

'He was drunk again.'

'Eight months, and he hasn't even made a
start at healing,' Devon remarked sadly as she
studied the petals of her rose. 'Do you think
he'll ever get over it?'

'No,' Lucky said candidly. 'I think the best
we can hope for is that he can learn to cope
with his grief and lead a productive life
again.'

Her sad expression reflected the regard she
had come to have for her brother-in-law.
Lucky loved that about her, too. She had
absorbed all the concerns of his family. Their
sorrows and joys had become her own. She
took them to heart. Family life, with all its
blessings and drawbacks, was new to her, but
she had blossomed within that environment.

Often she cried with Laurie over the loss of
her first grandchild. Sage confided secrets to

Devon that she kept from the rest of the
family.
Devon celebrated with him the day he
temporarily staved off the bank by scraping
together a loan payment and lent moral
support because business was still dismal
despite the replacement of the equipment
they had lost in the fire. Tyler Drilling
Company hadn't had any new contracts since
the one in Louisiana.
Chase was useless, immobilized by his
grief. Lucky had been left with the
responsibility of trying to save a sinking ship.
Devon's faith that he could do it boosted his
confidence when it flagged.
'It's awful for him to be so unhappy, to
waste his life like this,' she murmured now.
'Awful.'
'He's never even been inside that house he
had me buy for him. It just stands there
empty. He wallows in filth and misery in that
apartment he shared with Tanya.'
'What can we do to help him?'
'I wish to hell I knew. Criticism and
lectures only make him nasty and defensive.
Sympathy makes him furious. And he's going
to get killed riding those damn bulls. He's too
old to rodeo.'
'Maybe that's what he wants,' Devon said
sorrowfully. 'To die. Bull riding is just a

chancy form of suicide.'

'God.' Lucky wrapped his arms around her
waist and nuzzled her breasts. 'I can
understand how devastating it must be for
him. If I ever lost you — '

'But you won't.'

'I lost you after our first night together. I
nearly went berserk until I found you again.
And that was only for a week.'

She leaned back and gave him a quizzical
look. 'You nearly went berserk? You never told
me that.'

In spite of his brother's bereavement and
the sorry state of their business, Lucky was
still a newlywed, and frequently behaved
like a groom. That included teasing his
bride.

'There's a lot I haven't told you,' he
drawled.

'Oh yeah?'

'Yeah.'

'Like what?' she asked.

'Like how damn sexy you look when you're
wearing your glasses.'

She crossed her eyes behind the lenses.
' 'Boys don't make passes at girls who wear
glasses.' '

'I make passes at all the girls.'

'So I've heard.'

He drew her closer and kissed her with

increasing fervency, parting her pliant lips
with his tongue. The buttons on her blouse
were no match for his nimble fingers. As her
breasts filled his gently reshaping hands, she
reached between his thighs and caressed him.
Freeing him from his jeans, she put the petals
of the rose to prurient use.

'Thank you for my flower,' she purred as
she delicately twirled the stem.

'I taught you too well,' he hissed, sucking in
a quick breath at the tickling sensation.

'Meaning?'

'Meaning, I don't think we're going to
make it upstairs to the bedroom this time.'

Leaving his lap, she lay down on the rug
and pulled him down on top of her. Moments
later they lay panting together amid hopelessly
wrinkled clothing, crushed rose petals,
and dewy, naked limbs.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he
smiled down at her. 'Beats writing all to hell,
doesn't it?'

Devon took one of his hands, kissed the
palm, and laid it against her throbbing left
breast. 'Feel that? I love you with every beat
of my heart, and I don't know what I would
do without you in my life.'

He gazed down into her eyes, seeing in
their green depths the love that mirrored his
own. She was intelligent, sensitive, loving,

gorgeous, sexy, and hotter than a firecracker
in bed. And she freely and generously shared
herself with him.

'Damn,' he said, sighing with contentment,
'no wonder they call me Lucky.'

----------

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Posted by: "~Patti (PS)~" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Posted by: "~Patti (PS)~" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Posted by: "~Patti (PS)~" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Posted by: "~Patti (PS)~" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Posted by: "~Patti (PS)~" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Posted by: "~Patti (PS)~" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871

Posted by: "~Patti (PS)~" psexton312@comcast.net psexton871