Contemporary

Dao's body was stiff, sitting against the leather seat in the private plane. He rested his elbow against the window and propped his chin up with his arm. The plane taxied down the runway and lifted into the air. He never liked flying, but when the plane lifted off from Pearson International Airport, Dao didn't get that strange, queasy feeling he normally got. At that moment, he just felt numb and cold. He couldn't feel anything else. That scared him because he wanted to feel something, anything at all.

When the plane levelled off and the seatbelt sign pinged off, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eyes and he looked around. Kianna--he had been a horrible host to her. It was strange for she had been so quiet in the grand chaos of his mind that he had forgotten she was there. He was literally kidnapping her from her home, taking her across the world and he hadn't even explained to her what was happening. To make matters worse, he had just sat there like a zombie while she was probably bored or hurting and confused.

The ride over in the limo she had tried to get him to eat, but Dao wasn't really hungry. She had then given him a protein shake from the limo's fridge right after threatening to hook him up to an IV if he didn't eat something. Feeling horrible, he had taken it and drank a couple of swallows before handing it back. The smile she had given him then caused him to take the can back and drain it. Just to see her smile. She had just shifted in her seat and that had caught his attention.

If he had any doubts about hiring her before, they were gone when he saw the way she spoke to his flight attendants. She had stepped up to the plate and ordered that he have something light for lunch since she wasn't sure when the last time was that he had eaten. Kelly, the stewardess agreed. As he sat there watching her read, a smile graced his eyes and he inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry," he spoke.

Her head snapped up from the book she was reading.

"I should tell you what is happening and where we're going."

"That would be nice." She nodded and closed the book. "I did not want to add more stress to what you were going through."

"How do you know it is stressful?"

"You all but kidnapped me." She smirked.

Dao nodded. "I deserved that."

"But seriously." Kianna smiled. "I can see it in your eyes."

"The phone call I got earlier was from my parents. Well my mother at least. She never calls me. I always call her because it's really expensive for her to call me and I don't want her spending too much money because of a phone call. In order for her to call, she has to travel on the Li River and I don't like her doing that alone. She told me that my father had an accident and they don't think he has much time."

"I'm sorry--"

"Thank you. So we're heading to Yangshuo. I know it's a little bit out of your life, but I would really appreciate you with me so that I can still do a little business while I'm there." He arched his brow for the look she was giving him was starting to scare him. Moving close to her, he knelt before her. She was shaking slightly, but her gaze didn't leave his face. Dao was scared. "Kianna!" He took her hands. Her fingertips were freezing. Lifting her fingers to his lips, he blew against them before burying her smaller hands inside his. "Kianna? Speak to me."

"Yangshuo…"

He was stunned because the way she said it was the exact same way a person from Yangshuo would pronounce it. The emphasis was on the right letters and he wondered how she knew to do that. She couldn't have gotten it by him saying the word once. "Yes."

"Your parents live in Yangshuo--Xingping?"

"Yes, to be exact."

"Your parents live in Xingping."

"Kianna, you said that already. What's wrong? I can let you go back to Toronto once we get to Hong Kong if you'd like."

"No." She shook her head and looked down into his eyes. "I saved for years to go to China. Then there was a family emergency and I gave the money to help. I never thought I'd be able to save up enough to go because it's so expensive to travel."

"Well now you are going." He smiled. "I'm sorry that it's under such dire circumstances, but you will get a chance to see some things while there."

"Thank you," she whispered. "But we are going to China to make sure your parents are well--not for me to go on vacation."

Dao watched her. There was a strength in her voice and eyes that caused his heart to throb sweetly within his chest. He was still holding her hands. When she bowed her head and looked at where he held her, he let her go and moved back to his seat. But his gaze never left her, even after she went back to her book. Tilting his head, he glanced at the cover and blushed before turning to look out the window. She was reading one of those romance novels that his mother would read when he was younger. Even today, he would get them specially translated into Cantonese and shipped to her. They would make her sound so happy.

At that moment, Dao wondered what kind of men Kianna dated. Did she like them to touch her tenderly or roughly? Was she a romantic person? Turning his head, he looked at her and for that moment, his depression was gone. His gaze caressed her face--with the full lips, sad brown eyes, proud nose. While his gaze travelled down her neck, over full breasts and lower, his mind came to one conclusion--any man she dated was lucky.

He said nothing. Dao took his pleasure from watching her read. From time to time, she would gasp and flip the page quickly. Other times, she would smile or giggle softly.

"Our flight is fourteen hours, roughly," he spoke.

She looked up.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you, but would you like to talk? My brain is going too fast and I need to hear someone's voice."

She smiled and closed her book. She stuck it beside her in the seat and crossed her legs.

Dao bit back a moan. Nothing she did was overtly sexual, but just that alone--their simplicity turned him on more than he even thought was possibly.

"What would you like to talk about?"

"I don't know. Tell me a little about yourself."

"There isn't much to tell. I'm an only child now, both parents are gone. My brother was killed in a car accident when I was seventeen."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright, really," she replied. "It happened over ten years ago."

"What do you like to do?"

"Nothing lately. I haven't had the urge to do much of anything. But before, I loved the theatre, reading, trying to learn different languages--geeky things like that." She chuckled. "I told you there wasn't much."

Dao nodded. "Thanks for the warning." A smile was on his lips. "This may be none of my business and if it is, please tell me and I will respect your answer. Are you seeing anyone?" He watched as she looked away from him and reached for her book again. He assumed she didn't want to talk about it so he nodded and looked back out the window. He had crossed the line, but for some reason he wanted her to look at him and answer to the negative. The thought of her being with another man angered him. He chuckled to himself before getting up and turning to leave the main area.

"Mr. Zhi?"

"It's Dao--please."

"Dao--no I'm not seeing anyone."

The relieved smile that swam over him shocked Dao. It was a good thing he wasn't looking at her when she spoke for she would have seen it.

"Where are you going?"

"I was going to leave you to your book," Dao replied. Wiping the smile from his face, he turned around to look at her. "I thought that was what you wanted. Did I think wrong?"

"Yes," her voice was soft and she stood. She walked toward him.

Dao could not move away. He thought maybe she wanted to walk around him, but his feet wouldn't move. Still, he stood in her path, but she didn't try to get around him. Instead, she braced a palm against his chest, pushed up onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips gently against his. He growled and reached for her hair. He tangled his fingers in it, then pulled her lips roughly against his. When her lips spread for his tongue, he readily drank from her heat, sliding his tongue against hers and growling his satisfaction. He bit against her lower lip and pulled before sucking the pain away. He took her lips again, this time he conquered her, tasting, kneading, moulding their mouths together. When she finally pulled back, Dao was out of his mind with arousal, but let his hands fall away from her. "What--what was that for?" he questioned, pulling her lips back to his again. She tasted so good, his mouth watered. He was drunk with her scent.

* * * *

Kianna Sanderson had just done something completely out of her league. Kissing someone by just taking what she wanted was never something she would normally do, especially with her boss. But Dao's lips were calling to her and she couldn't resist. Inhaling deeply, she pulled way from him and stumbled into her seat again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Her body was still pulsating sweetly from the kiss. It was a short kiss, but it was the most wonderful kiss she'd ever experienced. It was so wrong, but it had caused her heart to hammer in her chest. All she had to do was behave herself and not maul her boss because she thought he was so sexy. Burying her face in her hands, Kianna inhaled deeply.

"Kianna?"

His voice was soft, husky. She didn't look at him. How could she look him in the eyes after what she had just done? She felt his hands on her, trying to pull her hands away, but she fought him back. He was stronger, however, and her hands fell away.

"What are you sorry about, Kianna?" his voice showed genuine concern. "We're two consenting adults. We shared a kiss--one that I thoroughly enjoyed. Why are you sorry?"

Kianna couldn't speak. The words that she wanted to put forth died in her throat. He had said he enjoyed her kiss and she knew then he was toying with her. He had to have been. How could he--Dao Zhi--have wanted a kiss from her? She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Talk to me."

"It didn't happen," Kianna spoke strongly. "It never happened."

"Kianna I don't--"

"There's nothing for you to understand!" Kianna interrupted too harshly. "It never happened."

"Claudia!" A woman's voice called as I stepped out of the gate.

I looked around and could see no one I recognized.

"Over here!" she called again.

Still, I could see no one.

"Right here, Claudia!"

I stopped walking and looked in every direction. Finally, I spotted Lila and her three children running through the terminal.

"Lila? Kids! What are you doing here?" I couldn't believe my eyes. There stood my beautiful best friend and her amazing children as if they were waiting for me. I hugged Lila tightly and the kids grabbed me and hugged me even tighter. "We missed you, Aunt Claudia!"

"Aw, I missed you guys, too! Now, what are you doing here?"

Lila paused, and then told the kids to go sit on a bench and wait for us. Begrudgingly, they obeyed. I started to worry that something was wrong. Lila usually spoke freely in front of the kids about most subjects.

"Claudia, are you all right?" she finally asked.

"What? Oh my God! He didn't!" I should have known the minute I boarded the plane, Henry would call and make sure Lila was there to pick me up.

"Well, yeah," she said. "He did. But listen, I've got to tell you--"

"I can't believe this! He is so arrogant sometimes! He just knew I would be all upset and heartbroken and need rescuing somehow, didn't he?"

"Claudia! Will you shut up and listen to me a minute? You get so carried away sometimes. Now, Henry did call me, but you have to know that he did not want me to come down here. In fact, he almost insisted that I didn't, so of course, you know me--I do exactly what people don't want me to do. Anyhow, that's not my point."

Lila was talking fast, for which she had a great talent for doing, but now her sentences were running together without even a pause for me to chuckle at her sarcasm.

"My point is that you need to let down whatever wall you're holding up between you and Henry and let yourself enjoy this."

"Enjoy this?" I couldn't believe my ears. "Lila, I was fired. He doesn't trust my love for him. He has to control everything that happens. Yes, all right, I love him. I love him more than I ever imagined. And his family is great. But, Lila, I want it to be on my terms. I know that may sound crazy, but I have to feel like I walked in willingly, not by force."

"Come on, kids!" Lila hollered. She turned again to me. "Let's get you back to our place. I've got to get home to get dinner started." She gathered the children and headed for the door.

I sighed deeply and followed. My belief that coming home would somehow allow me to escape Henry's reach was certainly shattered. I wasn't sure that I wanted to truly be out of his reach, but I did need enough distance from those waters to catch my breath. Then I could decide if I wanted to dive in again.

We loaded up the kids in Lila's van and as she drove us to their house, I told her all the details that I hadn't had time to cover in our phone conversation the day before.

"Claudia, if you ask me, it sounds like the man is truly tying to take care of you. I think he's trying to make amends for all the heartache you went through. I mean, think about it. What other man would take the time to make sure you were so well taken care of in the midst of his father's funeral?"

"Yeah, Lila, I get that. I understand that he is really good at taking care of me. I just wonder if it's for his sake or mine."

Julie tried to steel her emotions as she poked her head around the door facing of the hospital room. The two male nurses were in the process of getting Michael settled in bed, adjusting the series of machines that would keep record of his breathing and pulse. Even though it was obvious to both nurses that Michael couldn't use the call button, one of them pulled the cord within reach and fastened the buzzer to the corner of the sheet.

  "Can we come in, Jimmy?" Julie asked in a quiet voice.

  The big male nurse turned and smiled at Julie. "We've made him as comfortable as we can, Julie. The rest is up to God."

  Julie heard the quick intake of air Dean sucked in. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck before stepping into Michael's room. "We have to help each other," she whispered in his ear. The tightening of Dean's arms around her waist assured her that he had heard her soft whisper.

  The nurses stepped into the hall as Julie and Dean went into the room. From the door, Michael appeared to be sleeping peacefully. His features were relaxed and his eyes closed. His hands and arms were exposed above the covering of white sheet. His right arm was in a cast. Julie's gaze dropped to the plaster form. Through the sheen of tears misting her eyes, she glimpsed the scrawled names in red and blue ink running in random patterns across the plaster.

  "Oh, my God," Dean exclaimed. He approached the bed and reached out to touch Michael. As he laid one open hand on his son's chest, he turned a tearful face to Julie. "How are we ever going to stand seeing him this way, Julie?"

  Pain shot through Julie's insides. The remorse in Dean's eyes nearly broke her heart. Surely seeing Michael in this awful way brought back memories of Sharon's battle with cancer he had tried to bury. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close.

  Dean broke the hug and wiped a hand across his eyes. "I'm sorry, Julie. I know I should be stronger, but the sight of him lying there, so still and lifeless got the better of me. We don't even know if he will regain consciousness.

  A combination of emotions surged through Julie's insides as she looked down at Michael. There was an aura of silence about him that she couldn't find the courage to accept. She reached out one hand and touched his cheek, lightly pressing her palm against his jaw. His skin was warm and the familiar feel of beard stubble made her close her eyes for a moment. The years they were separated seemed to melt away, lost in a sea of hurt and time. Resisting the urge to gather his still body into her arms, Julie pulled her hand away and looked at his father.

  "I want to get a look at his chart--and speak with Doctor Murdock."

  "I'll stay here," Dean said, drawing a chair up beside Michael's bed. "I want to be here when he wakes up."

The moment Jingle Bells began playing on the car radio, Ronda Miller grimaced and reached to change the station. After three hours of nerve wracking driving on slick, snow encrusted highways, she didn't need reminded that Christmas was only four weeks away. She hated the holiday season.

Taking her eyes off the road for only a second, she rolled the dial through the channels, looking for a weather report, only to discover most of the stations were playing the usual assortment of seasonal music. Switching the dial off, she returned her gaze to the road--just in time to see the red pickup truck sliding crossways in her path.

Acting by instinct, she slammed her foot down hard on the brake pedal, momentarily forgetting the slick surroundings. The rear of the car fishtailed slightly before its tires found a dry stretch of pavement and lurched to a stop. Startled by the sudden mishap, Ronda sat frozen, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. "What the--"

The driver's door on the pickup opened and a male body in jeans and sweatshirt emerged--looking like some hunk from a wish book. Ronda stared with wide eyes as he made his way over to the side of her car. He was tall and trim, with wide shoulders that filled out the bright green sweatshirt to unusual proportions. His lower body was encased in worn denim that bore the remnants of oil stains and grease smears.

Fright briefly gave way to anger when Ronda glimpsed the broad smile he flashed at her. In the next instant, she grabbed the window crank and furiously rolled the glass out of the way so she could unleash her frustration on him.

"I hope I didn't scare you too badly," he said.

"You sure as hell scared me!" Ronda yelped. She realized then her heart was thudding against her ribcage and her neck was sweating beneath the collar of her sweater. "Why were you so careless?"

He chuckled slightly, shaking his head. "I'm having a problem with my gas pedal sticking," he explained, his gaze sliding over the tight-lipped stare she aimed at him and her tousled chestnut colored hair. "You must be Ronda," he said, smiling again. "I'm Nick Austin, your aunt's neighbor." He thrust his right hand through the open window in greeting.

"Will you move your truck, please?" Ronda quipped, ignoring the hand only inches from her face. She'd already had enough of this stranger's cheery mood and his lack of sincerity for having nearly scared her to death. At this point, she only wanted it to end so she could drive the rest of the way to her Aunt Claire's house up the road.

"Sure," he said, pulling his hand back. "Just as soon as you accept my apology."

Ronda aimed a speculative look at him. There was nothing like running head first into a brick wall and then realizing you were to blame for the encounter. "If that is what it takes to get you to move your truck out of the road," she said between tight lips.

"That's what it takes," Nick returned, his smiling mouth fully teasing her.

It was then his sweatshirt blinked at her.

A series of colored flashes assaulted her green eyes and all but totally erased her anger. A decorated Christmas tree loomed at her from the front of Nick's shirt.

"You like it," he admonished with a chuckle. "Everybody does. I designed it myself. It plays music, too," he added, reaching one hand to activate the sound. "Listen."

Annie sat in the car and looked across the cemetery. The gravestones were illuminated in the soft white light given off by the streetlights along the winding road that snaked through the grounds. Massive stones with deeply etched inscriptions stood like bleak sentinels overlooking family plots. Yellowed leaves of oak trees fluttered in the late October breeze. The rustle sounded through the car windows, bringing a fall chill to Annie's body. She gathered her coat collar around her neck and poked her hands deeper into her pockets.

When Annie left the airport terminal, her heart on her sleeve, she wanted to come to the cemetery and throw herself on Charlie's grave. The need to feel close to him was almost more than she could bear some times. It didn't seem like three long years had passed since she laid him to rest. A tear coursed down her cheek and she didn't bother to brush it away. There was no one there but her, alone with her misery and concealed by the darkness.

Charlie had been her world. Her every other thought had been of him and when he was suddenly taken away, she lost all will to go on. For months she had stayed in her house, not having the desire to work or have friends in. Even her family was pushed aside in lieu of being alone and trying to understand what had happened to ruin her life. Finally, after two months, she awoke one day and realized that Charlie had been taken from her and there wasn't a single thing she could do about it. He was gone, she would never see him again, and despite the hurt clenching her insides, she had to get a grip and go on with her life.

She immersed herself in work, taking on several board jobs for herself and a few of her fellow teachers. She began tutoring mid-grade students in math after school, a job she found very rewarding. Most of the children were latch key kids with both parents working and thus they went home to an empty house every afternoon. Annie found the kids fun to be around, once their lessons were completed for the day. Without consciously realizing it, she found her spirits being lifted.

The wind seemed to kick up, blowing the dried leaves across the cemetery and catching Annie's eye. Headlights appeared, shining through the back window of her car. She roused and sat up straighter in the seat. The lights dimmed and went out, signaling that someone had parked behind her and shut off the motor of the car. A tremor of fright raced through Annie's insides. She reached for the key and started the ignition. Even though her doors were locked and there hadn't been any violence in Montgomery for months, there was no sense taking chances.

As Annie shifted the car into gear and inched away from the curb, she saw a figure exiting the car behind her. Keeping an eye on the rearview mirror, she recognized the figure as male. He closed the driver's door and opened the rear door, extracting a bouquet of flowers. Annie's foot hesitated on the gas pedal as she recognized the soldier she had drawn the map for at the USO.

Curiosity rose inside Annie. She braked the car and watched the man as he walked into the cemetery. He strode along the roadway, then walked amid the gravestones, pausing to place the flowers on a grave. Annie bit her bottom lip as new tears came to her eyes. Did the soldier have a loved one buried in the cemetery? Or had he laid flowers on the grave of a fellow comrade? There were hundreds of local men buried in the cemetery, those whose families wanted them nearby instead of in a military graveyard in another state. The thought of not having Charlie close had brought about her own decision regarding his final resting place. Though he was due an honorary place because of his undying sacrifice, she knew she would love him forever and someday take her place beside him, again.

As Talia got dressed, she thought about her upcoming meeting with Victor. He was a strange man. And she was almost sure something was going on between him and his office manager, Caroline Thomas.

For some reason, Talia sensed that Caroline didn't like her, although she couldn't recall doing anything to offend the woman. She almost acts jealous of the attention Victor gives me.

She ran a brush through her hair and applied a smattering of lipstick. She needed little else to make herself look presentable. Her skin was clear and smooth, with just a few freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose.

A knock at the cottage door startled her and she jumped. When she saw her visitor though the screen door, she muttered, "That will teach me to close both doors."

Craig Lynch smiled a greeting from the small stone stoop, which served as a front porch. "Hey, Tally, want to come out and play?" he finally said, the grin widening.

"No comment," Talia responded. She did not open the door or invite him inside.

"Good one, very funny. Actually I'm here in my capacity as a reporter. I want to do a story about you and the upcoming art exhibit for the paper. Need to set up a time. How about over dinner tomorrow night. You pick the place."

He was, she would guess, somewhere in his mid-thirties. He was partially balding and slightly built. His pale blue eyes ogled her from behind a pair of rimless glasses.

"I'm just on my way out, Craig. Call me later," she said, opening the screen door. She remembered she didn't have her purse or keys. She went to grab them from the coffee table, and when she turned around, he was standing right behind her.

"Nice dress, by the way," he said, reaching out to touch the silky skirt. He rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

"I have to go, Craig. As I said, call me and we'll set up a time for me to come by the newspaper office and do the interview."

Craig had been flirting with her since she'd moved to town and it hadn't taken her long to grow tired of it. However, he never seemed to get the message that she wasn't interested. In fact, something about him almost repulsed her.

He let go of her skirt and moved his hand to her hip. Sidestepping, she walked around him and went to the door, opening it wide.

He followed her. "Need a ride?" he asked, his thin lips curling up in a half-smile. They both stepped outside.

"I'd rather walk into town. It's a great day and I like being outdoors," she said as she locked her door, then strode past him and down the cobblestone walk.

When Talia entered the art gallery, the first person she saw was Caroline Thomas, hovering over an older, middle-aged couple who were studying a bronze sculpture.

She looked around for Victor, but didn't see him so contented herself with examining some of the pieces that were propped against the far wall. In fact, most of the paintings that usually hung on the walls had been removed and the place smelled of fresh paint. Victor was obviously sprucing things up for the upcoming show.

"I'm going to use easels for a lot of the paintings, especially yours," Victor said, from the mouth of the short hallway that separated the showroom from the offices.

Funny, she could have sworn he hadn't been in there when she'd looked for him a few moments ago.

He came to her, then reached out and took both of her hands in his. "You look beautiful as always. So what do you think of the place?" He beamed proudly.

It did look good. The new, lighter shades made a world of difference. "It's perfect." She smiled at him, thinking that he really looked more suited to big city life. So why had he tucked himself away in this little village so off the beaten path?

Caroline joined them, looking Talia up and down, before turning her attention to Victor. "The Swansons want that sculpture. I'm sending it out tomorrow, but they want a word with you."

As Victor went to talk to the Swansons, Caroline leveled her gaze on Talia. "Victor is quite enthused about your paintings. They will be ready, won't they?"

The other woman's animosity was obvious. "They'll be ready," Talia replied coolly.

"See that they are. I wouldn't want to see Victor disappointed," Caroline said before walking away.

Suddenly, the hair at the nape of Talia's neck stirred and she shivered. I'm being watched, but from where? Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a fleeting glimpse of someone staring in the front window. But when she turned to look, there was no one there.

“Well, I have to say the wait was worth it. You look gorgeous. Hair, the dress, everything. I’m impressed.”

Not security. He wore a nice suit. Emily’s night vision was better than most and even in moonlight she recognized the sheen of silk. He smelled good, too, soap and water clean. When he smiled a face that at first glance was well proportioned graduated to handsome.

“Thank you.” This had to be the most ridiculous trick Randy had ever played on her, but where had he found this guy? “Are you my brother’s way of saying I don’t date enough?”

“Could be. Though I hardly think a lady such as yourself would have a problem with that.” The smile brought out dimples! Lord. Handsome just got upgraded to ‘oh my goodness.’ “Let’s just say I don’t mind if I’m your prospect for tonight.” Hard biceps bulged under dark silk when he put one hand in his pocket, all feline grace.

“It’s a bit late.” She smiled anyway. She couldn’t help it. The situation was too ridiculous given some of her more abysmal luck with men. Did Randy think she was so incapable he had to arrange a blind date in a cemetery? Emily spared a quick glance over her shoulder to see what the teenager was doing. Randy hadn’t come toward them and was still shooting around the man-made pond in the center of the cemetery. Brothers.

“Maybe I overslept.” Those dimples didn’t ease up. “Bloody hell, you smell aces!” He stepped a bit closer. “Never knew a sheila could smell that good.” His eyes closed for a moment as he drew a deep breath.

Emily swallowed. “Thanks.” The skin on the back of her neck was alive. Various nerves all over her body skittered in excitement and her blood felt like it was humming. Was this what women’s fashion magazines called “chemistry”? It was fantastic even if it was a little scary. He smelled wonderful himself, a spicy trace of cologne, more the warmth of a man’s skin. “So. You a teacher or something?”

His deep-throated laugh sent a jolt of energy through her. “Lord, no. I’m…retired. I never handled classrooms well.” He was so close now his body almost touched hers. Emily took a tentative step backwards from his intensity and her own unusual response to it. “Something wrong?” His brow furrowed at her movement.

“Kind of. We’re strangers talking in a graveyard.” Emily sensed she was babbling and loathed it. Rakesh Edmonds, her partner of several years, once commented silent ice queen roles suited her best. Her next step back would have sent her stumbling, but for a movement and hold too quick for Emily to see before she felt it.

“Steady on,” he coaxed.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t unwrap his arms from her body and Emily met dark eyes, mild and inquisitive, friendly amusement dancing in their depths. There had to be some secret freaky flaw to this dreamboat. Why else would he be here?

The coolness of his skin surprised her. It felt good, after the heat that kept climbing her face and neck. His touch was like a salve to ease that burn. “You’re cold,” she said. As soon as she spoke the words, she bit her lip. How rude of me!

“I’m dead. Remember?” His expression hadn’t changed, but he opened his eyes in slow motion, like waking up from a nice dream. “To me, you feel warm and soft to the touch. You’ve surpassed how I imagined you’d feel.” The awe in his voice touched her heart and made her feel exceptional, appreciated.

And awkward. She glanced around her. “Now what?”

“Why did you trust me so?” he asked. Having physical contact with her had pumped up his self-confidence. He now regarded her with seductively hooded eyes.

Standing next to Jeremy made Stacy want to fluff her hair like a teenager. Hell, she wanted to run her hands through his hair. “I…” She licked her lips. “I really don’t know. There is something about you…it’s as if I’ve known you all my life.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Strange, but that’s exactly how I feel as well. Like I’ve been waiting for you since my death.”

Her face was tipped up, her eyes dark in the moonlight, his bright and sparkling. He lowered his lips to hers for a long, deep, incredibly soft kiss. He loosened her hair, ran his hands through it and buried his face in the scented strands he held. He slipped his hands completely under her top to stroke her soft, warm, smooth skin. He returned to her midriff, hooked his fingertips inside the waistband of her slacks and slowly slid them from side to side with his knuckles rubbing her tummy, easing a little further down her smooth, warm stomach with each pass.

She stood still with her head tipped back, knowing she wasn't going to stand still much longer. She was beginning to purr deep in her throat like a big cat as the swirl of passion swept and rolled through her. He teased her tongue lightly with his and she responded with building passion. He gently nibbled her ear lobes and moved to the hollow of her throat to nibble and kiss teasingly.

With a shock, she realized he was not asking or demanding anything from her. He only wanted to make her happy and bring her pleasure. Any other man she had even known would have tried to have his hands all over her by now. As his soft lips returned to hers for another easy kiss the thought eased through her brain, this is a real man! Another fascinating thought zipped through her mind. What would it be like to be his wife? With that thought, she let go of everything that held her back and offered herself to him without reservation.

She pressed tightly to him and reveled in the feel of his body against hers as he eased his knee between her legs. She took a long deep breath that caught in her throat and eased out in a low, purring moan. The feeling that stirred the first time she looked into his eyes now burst into full, glorious flight and carried her along to new heights. However, the dark, brutal, ugly memory of being hurt so deeply was overpowering and she pulled away. Her shoulders were racked by sobs. She turned to him "I'm sorry, I must go."

She had his head in her lap as she intently listened to him. The heartrending loss of his wife touched her deeply. She wept openly as did he. “Oh, Gill, it would be terrible to lose a loved one that way. Molly and your grandparents deserve much praise for helping you adjust. You might have ended like Mike without their support. The Lord puts people in our path for a reason.”

He looked up into her sparkling eyes. “Why do you think we were put in each other’s path?”

She looked down and just smiled. She was very aware of his presence—the warmth of his head in her lap alternately tied her in knots and gently worked those knots free.

He reached up to cradle her chin, brushing her breasts in the process. “I want to know you better. Molly told me if I didn’t, she was going to disown me.”

Her breath tightened in her throat as he dropped his hand to stroke her thigh by his head.

* * * *

The smooth strength he felt there was exciting and comforting at the same time. He turned and pulled her down. He continued to stroke the fine, long curve of her thigh with his free hand as he cradled her in one arm. He moved to her back to stroke and massage.

* * * *

As their lips met, she uttered a strangled moan, moved to him and hooked her leg over his. There was none of the hard, fast demanding she detested. Instead, this was slow, gentle and easy, freely given and freely taken. “Oh, Gill, I have waited so long for a man like you, for a time like this.”

He paused and took her lips again in a deep, long easy kiss that completely carried her away. She had been kissed many times before, but not like this. She had had her lips bruised and almost cut by eager boys and men, had her lips bitten and even had her tongue bitten by an overeager, somewhat misdirected boy. She had had tongues rammed half way down her throat and freakishly had men actually spit into her mouth. Needless to say none of the above did much for her enjoyment of the moment.

However, this was so different, a firm, gentle free exchange of pleasure. This man is truly interested in my feelings. He wants to bring me pleasure, make me feel good. When she opened her mouth to explore his lips with her tongue, he responded gently in kind. As their tongues danced and teased, he made a long, slow sweep up her thigh and she tensed, waiting for his touch to reach her.

Instead, he continued to her back to gently stroke. “Cathy, I’ve waited for someone like you. Believe it or not, I want to wait a bit before we continue what we’ve started here.”

It was one AM when Jasmine slipped into the dark house. Dressed in a black cat suit and gloves, she blended with the shadows—not that anyone was around to spot her anyway.

She crept through the rooms, letting her senses guide her flawlessly through the lightless spaces clear as day. She made it to the bedroom and found the stone carelessly stuffed into a nightstand. Obviously Mr. Wellesley didn’t think the stone was that precious or priceless, or perhaps he was just that confident in his security. Jasmine couldn’t contain the scoff at his stupidity.

She held the unassuming thing up in the moonlight. It appeared to be nothing special—a smooth black stone about the size of her palm. But it was heavy, easily three times as heavy as it should be for the small size. It heated in her palm and she wrapped both hands around it, drawn to its warmth. The warmth soon spread up her arms and into the rest of her body. Jasmine closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of it, of the comforting warmth. It was like being held tight by a familiar lover.

“What the hell?”

Jasmine spun around, quickly stuffing the stone into the small pouch at her waist. Cole stood behind her in nothing but a pair of red silk boxers, his hair spiking around his head as if he had just gotten out of bed. His expression was one of total disorientation and shock, mixed with angry annoyance, all directed at her. “What the hell are you doing here and why are you dressed like that?” She went instantly to attack—always put them on the defensive.

“Jasmine? I don’t know, I was in bed asleep. I woke up feeling hot and then I was here. Where is here and what are you doing here?” He scowled around the dark room, a brow arching at the obviously sensual design of the place. “You are into some kinky stuff, Jasmine.” His eyes lit on the assortment of toys adorning one of the walls and he smiled. “Not that I mind.”

Could it have been her whom he had seen at the party, full-skirt, petticoat, doing that Spanish gypsy dance, her hips propelling an elevating swirl, to hint—as a foretaste, of what he had missed at the pool? Or was it she striding along the street that time in the white jumpsuit, which caressed her as he longed his body to? Like a dream she had flitted past. Now was the time to infuse a little wakefulness into that dream—but not too much. It must be at the pool they would meet again, be openly undressed and break warm water ice with bodies free. She’d see his progress, enjoy his physique in its new trim—arm, shoulder, calf and thigh muscles toned up to match her form. His black trunks would set off the other parts.

Trembling with anticipation, Cedric set off. He recalled the old adage about finding something once one had stopped consciously looking for it. His eyes drank in trees, sky, sunlight—enjoyed their immediacy…but gradually, that shape ahead grew clearer. So sunny nature was to be the setting and, like himself, did not have to stand alone. Energy suspended became energy decisive.

Here she was on a beach, pure and simple. Now the sea breathed heavily, whispering and murmuring to her. It was returning her, stare speaking to her. It was the spirit of love beckoning her with a pulsing, sinewy body. In all its lines, shades, and fleeting forms, Selene saw the essence of pure beauty, all grace of form, flesh, limb and feature. It was in one all the lovers of whom she could possibly dream, conflated into one elemental ideal. He, pure love in soul, bade her to enter his domain and make it hers. His arms moved her hands to unclasp, unbutton, and unzip…the blossom emerged. The sun became the eye of all that was not earth, and Selene loved fully, though the pallor of her skin left her momentarily abashed.

At first she lay in the tide's path, the top of her head at its most extreme mark. The sand bank made a soft bed. The sea lover smoothly caressed her calves, thighs, hips, breasts, shoulders and cheeks before retreating to pause in his mossy pinnacles. Three times this action was repeated, and then Selene stood up, wading in with arms outstretched. Her arms were linked as she stood up to her neck in the saline flow. The balls and heels of her feet wobbled, slithering on the moss. With the next wave, she lost her balance--her breath heaved in unison with the hissing around her. She threw her head back once again horizontal, and launched into a backstroke, sweeping and circling. She parted her legs wide with each thrust of motion, each sweep of self-propulsion pushing out to answer the cavernous currents of his passion. Seven circles gave her a delicious, warm bliss--then the sea lover, well pleased, carried her back to a near-dry bed. Aching and contented Selene dozed a while.

The breeze off the sea travelled upward and brushed over my face. I lifted my face and closed my eyes. I was so far into the simple pleasure of it all that when he walked up behind me I did not sense him.

“Buonasera.”

I gasped and swirled around. There he was. This time, however, he wore more than a speedo-esque bathing suit. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, a graphic t-shirt that I couldn’t really see well in the dim light, and a suit jacket. His hair was finger-raked backward and he hadn’t shaved. Draco De Luca cleaned up very well. I glanced around him, then up into his eyes. He was so tall. “Draco? What are you doing here?”

“My mother is this party’s hostess,” he explained.

“Your mother? Who’s your mother?”

“Capri.”

That rang false to me for Tricia never recognized him on the beach, yet she was such good friends with Capri. Of the five years Tricia had been visiting Camogli, had Capri not spoken about her son? That would seem strange, considering.

“You do not believe me. I can see it in your eyes. May I sit here?”

I nodded feebly and shuffled over so he could sit and I could face him. I did not know if I liked a man who could read me so readily. It was quite unnerving knowing someone knew what you were thinking before you voiced it. It was as though he was snooping around in my head and I suddenly felt invaded. If it was anything I prised above all else, was the sanctity of my thoughts. Those were things that could not be taken from me no matter what else was stolen.

“I met Tricia the first time tonight. For the first few years my mother spoke about this woman, Tricia Mantle, I was living in England. For the past couple of years, I started a business in Paris. Besides, I travel a great deal at the moment. This would be the first time that I am here the same time she is.”

“Oh.” I felt like a fool. “I’m sorry. It’s just that on the beach she didn’t know who you were and I figured she would know you since her and Capri seemed such close friends.”

“No need to be sorry. Even if my mother had spoken about me, she probably introduced me as Dragon.” He spoke so softly it was almost like a breath.

My gaze fell to his lips and I found myself wondering what would happen should I just reach in and brush those luscious lips with my own. I jerked away when I caught myself and rubbed a hand over my face.

“I do not bite, Macy. I promise. I only seek conversation.”

“It’s not that.” I lied. “What would you like to talk about?”

He smirked.

My breath caught in my throat.

“I am going to go out on a limb and say that talking about why I see fear in your eyes each time you look at me is off limits. How about you tell me a little about yourself?”

“There isn’t much to tell.” I turned from him. “I’m a mother.”

“A wife, I assume?”

“Not any more,” I whispered. There—I said it. It was out in the universe and no matter how much I wanted to take it back, I couldn’t. It felt like saying that I was no longer Kevin’s wife made it true. The admission felt like I was speaking something dirty and it left a bad taste in my mouth. I wasn’t sure if we were divorced yet for I had a chance to give Martin a call. It was pretty much a done deal since Kevin wanted Sharon and me gone. I took a deep breath and lifted my eyes to the dark spot where the ocean should be and stared.

“This may sound harsh, but I am happy you’re no longer married,” he said.

I felt his breath against my ear and I shivered. I didn’t jerk away, though for it felt so good. A little intimacy after so long felt like heaven. “Why is that?” I managed.

“I have travelled a lot, Macy, and I have met more women than I can count. But I have never met anyone like you.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“No. I do not speak just to hear myself or because I love the sound of my voice. I speak the truth. There is something so exotic and breathtaking about you…the way the moon glows off your dark skin, the look in your eyes when you are wondering should you kiss me or not.”

“Egotistic, much?”

“I saw the way your eyes trailed over my lips, Macy. Do you deny it?”

What could I say? I could lie. He was so close, I could scarcely think. Each time I turned to him and inhaled his scent being carried on the air, filling my body, it drove me to dizziness. I couldn’t deny it and on the same breathe I would never admit it. I couldn’t. I refused to go there again with Kevin or Draco. My heart was on the mend and I could not risk it getting broken again.

“I fear I must let my intentions known,” Draco said. He moved mouth from side to side so that his breath caressed my ear, my neck and behind my ear. “I have every intention of having you by my side, in my arms—in my bed.”

“You’re full of yourself.” I drew away reluctantly.

“No—just determined.”

Just as she hoped, Josh entertained her with more stories, and the time passed quickly. It's now or never. Walking reluctantly to the table, Hannah sat in the chair beside his. "Josh, there's something I have to talk to you about."

"It sounds important." His eyebrows were raised curiously.

Hannah bit her lower lip. "Very serious," she said, wringing her hands together.

Josh leaned back in his chair and crossed both arms over his chest. "I'm all ears."

She took a deep breath, trying to remember which of her rehearsals had turned out best. "Well," she began, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I guess there's no way to say this except to blurt it out." She met his unwavering gaze and said, "I'm…pregnant." The only sound in the room was the steady tick-tock of the clock above the stove and her hammering heartbeats. Why wasn't he saying anything? Why was he staring at her that way, with a blank expression that told her nothing?

"You're kidding, right?"

Hannah bit her lower lip and shook her head, already feeling devastated at his reaction. She'd expected it, but had hoped for something else.

Josh exhaled sharply and stared at some invisible spot between his shoes, his powerful jaw clenching and unclenching. "How long have you known?" he asked flatly.

She hesitated. "About two months."

A light dawned in his eyes. "The homeless shelter," he mumbled. Then he leaned closer, finally meeting her gaze with a hard look. "Why didn't you tell me right away?"

"What did you expect me to do? Waltz into town, after we hadn't talked in years, and say Oh hey, nice seeing you again. And by the way…I'm pregnant."

He narrowed his eyes. "Sarcasm has never been your greatest talent." Shaking his head slowly, he muttered something unintelligible. "I have to admit, Hannah, I would have preferred that announcement to this one."

She tried to read his face, but he hid it behind his hand. "It isn't something I'm proud of," Hannah admitted, hearing her voice waver.

Finally he looked at her again. "So," he began, "all this time, every time we were together, all the flirting and…." He drove a hand through his hair. "And you never thought to tell me you're pregnant?"

Hannah's shoulders drooped. "You have to believe me, Josh. I tried to tell you, dozens of times. I just couldn't seem to find the right words, or the right time. I never expected to feel…I didn't think you and I would…" She took a deep breath and blinked back the tears that stung her eyelids. "This just--"

"Happened," he finished, cutting her off. "It always does."

"Please don't be mad at me, Josh. You're a pastor. You of all people should understand that people make mistakes," Hannah said desperately.

He got up slowly and headed for the front door.

Hannah knew he intended to ask her to leave.

"Leading me on wasn't a mistake, Hannah," he said over his shoulder.

She ran around in front of him and placed a hand on his chest. "I wasn't leading you on," she said quietly.

"Then what exactly were you doing?"

She shrugged miserably. The truth was, she'd been lonely. Afraid. Angry. And being with Josh felt so good. Made her feel good about herself…something she hadn't felt in a long time. It had been selfish to use him that way, she realized too late. "I guess," she said haltingly, "I was hoping to make up for lost time."

His eyes searched her face, then he looked toward the ceiling, as if hoping to find answers to his questions written up there. "Maybe your time would have been better spent with the baby's father, instead of me."

Traitorous tears welled in her eyes and, though she tried to stop them, they spilled onto her cheeks. Hannah didn't even bother to wipe them away. Instead, she grabbed her purse and hurried out the door. In the car, she fumbled with her keys as sobs shook her body. Finally, she found the ignition and backed out of the driveway. It was happening again.

The day she'd told Ben of her suspicions about the pregnancy, he'd withdrawn from her, too. He'd turned cold and stony, though she hadn't even taken the test yet. She could be wrong, she tried to explain, but Ben insisted he'd been down that road before. He knew what a week late meant and he wouldn't let her mistake mess up the rest of his life. So she'd left his dorm room and headed straight for the drug store, determined to bring him proof that it had all been a terrible mistake.

But it hadn't been a mistake after all. Before she could even take the test, she'd found Ben and Stephanie together. The pregnancy test had been thrown into a suitcase while she dealt with her broken heart and searched for the strength to open it. When all was said and done, her desperate prayer had gone unanswered and her heart remained broken.

When Hannah pulled into her drive, she remained rooted to the seat of her dad's Oldsmobile. She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror, and even in the fading light, saw her blotchy face, smeared mascara, and runny nose. She'd already upset Josh. The last thing Hannah wanted was to begin a repeat performance with her dad. She'd go to the river, the only place where she'd ever felt at peace.

By now, the sun had reached the horizon so low it created a hazy glow that settled above the ground. Fingers of sunlight still clung to the sky, making it look as fresh and radiant as a painting.

The river wound its way through the trees, catching the sun in its cradle as it disappeared in the falling darkness. Ripples silently waved their course downstream and every now and then, there was the sound of a drip or swirl of the water. The tree frogs began their night song as the hum of crickets harmonized in the background.

Hannah watched the sun wink its final goodbye and as the eddy of colors faded away, a deep, satiny expanse of space was left. Thousands of stars dotted the dark canopy as far as the eye could see, and Orion, a magnificent giant, stood out like the king of the sky. As soon as the darkness was complete, fireflies began to drift through the shadows like hundreds of tiny lanterns floating on the breeze. This secret place she and Josh had grown up loving used to make her feel so alive. Now it just made her feel alone.

Over the four years she'd been away, she'd lost touch with every friend she'd grown up with. Then throughout college, her friends graduated or transferred, or in Stephanie's case, slept with her boyfriend. In the end, Hannah walked away with no one except her dad and Josh. She realized that by not telling Josh sooner, she may have possibly put a permanent end to the one relationship that meant the most to her, aside from her father's. A part of her had hoped that Josh would just love her, baby or no baby, just as she was. A part of her told her that if it weren't for the baby, he would have.

The sound of soft footfalls interrupted her thoughts. She turned, startled to see Josh walking toward her. He stopped a few feet behind her, looking uncomfortable, and saying nothing for a few awkward seconds. Hannah turned her back to him and stared at the river winding its way through the shadows.

After a minute, Josh sat beside her, elbows on his knees and staring at the darkness with her.

Luke never finished his sentence, because he passed out.

"This your boy?" the doctor asked, packing up his bag.

"No…" What definition should he give his relationship with Alexis? "He's my girlfriend's son."

The wail of a siren punctuated his statement. "Finally!" Wade ground out. He'd assisted the EMTs and firefighters at nearly a hundred emergencies, and without exception, he'd been as patient and reassuring as he knew how to be. But Wade had never been on this end of an accident before. Now that he understood how painfully frightening it was to wait for help to arrive, he'd be even more understanding in the future.

Two uniformed EMTs leaped from the vehicle, life saving gear in tow. "Hey," said the one with Martin on his nameplate, "you look familiar."

Wade nodded. "You were my instructor in the Basic Life Support class I took a couple years back."

Nodding, Martin gave Luke a quick onceover, then strapped the blood pressure cuff around the boy's arm. "He's stable," Martin told his partner. "But let's get him out of here. Head injuries can be tricky business." Together, the EMTs eased Luke onto a gurney and into the waiting ambulance.

"Where do you think you're goin'?" Martin asked as Wade climbed in behind them.

Reaching into a box near the door, Wade snapped on a pair of rubber gloves. Then, from the I.V. bar above his head, he removed one of the three-inch lengths of surgical tape placed there by the guys on the previous shift. "I know the boy," he said, holding the tape out to Martin. "We haven't been able to get in touch with his mother yet."

Martin nodded as he inserted an I.V. into Luke's arm. "Yeah," he said, hanging the glucose from the bar above, "guess it'll be better if there's a familiar face nearby when he comes to." Grabbing the tape stuck to Wade's thumb, he used it to secure clear plastic tubing to the boy's wrist. Martin signaled his driver with one hand, then depressed the transmit button of his two-way radio with the other.

Wade listened as Martin rattled off the vital statistics…blood pressure, pulse, basic inventory of Luke's condition…to a doctor at the other end. Wade hadn't worked on this particular ambulance before, and because he knew each crew set things up inside to meet their own self-specified requirements, he took a quick look around. Not that knowing where things were would do him any good. As a volunteer, he'd been trained to assist, and nothing more. He wished he'd gone whole hog, studied to become a full-fledged EMT instead of taking the Basics Course. But he hadn't, and frustrating as that was right now, Wade had no intention of complaining. Because these guys didn't have to let him ride along, and he knew it.

 "So what's your take on this?" Martin wanted to know as the vehicle sped toward Howard County General.

"Witnesses said an elderly lady drove through the intersection…didn't see Luke." Shrugging helplessly, he added, "It appears he didn't see her, either."

Martin nodded. "You want to call his mother, have her meet us at the emergency room?"

Call Alexis? It was the first time Wade had given a thought to his truck, still sitting in the line of traffic, driver's door open, keys in the ignition. "I have a car phone," he grumbled, "on the front seat of my pickup." Scowling, he shook his head. "Fat lot of good it's doing me there."

Martin handed Wade a cell phone.

"Thanks."

"Hey, we take care of our own." He paused. "I don't recall your name."

"Wade Williams."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Martin barked more information about Luke's condition into the radio.

Phone in hand and forefinger poised to begin dialing, Wade froze, gaze glued to the keypad. What would he say when she answered? He punched the on button, and when it beeped, Wade met Martin's blue eyes. "What do I tell her about his condition?"

"Ain't much to tell…yet. He's got a head injury, but we won't know how serious it is 'til we get him into x-ray."

Wade dialed Alexis's number. Four rings later, he hung up.

"Nobody home?"

"Nobody home." He'd been around the Broderick house enough to guess what had probably happened. Impatience had likely driven Luke to distraction, and distraction had driven him to the garage to fetch his bike. He could almost hear the boy saying "It's only a few blocks to Wade's house, Mom. I'm not a baby. I'll be fine."

He patted Luke's hand. "You will be fine, son, if I have anything to say about it." Lord, he added silently, don't let anything happen to him. Alexis had told him she'd lost her uncle during the Viet Nam war, that her dad had died shortly afterward. Derek's accident took him from her before their seventh anniversary. She'd had to sell her house to get on top of the bills he'd left unpaid. There ought to be a law, just one tragedy per lifetime.

 Because how many disappointments and losses could one woman bear--even a strong woman, like Alexis--before the weight of them broke her?

Melinda was determined to open her eyes this time. She struggled to talk. Finally, she managed to squeak out, “If you turn down the lights, things might get better.” Instantly the light went down to a normal level. Melinda opened her eyes and scanned the room again. Sitting up slowly, she knew the only way to face her demons were head on and she felt determined to allow that to happen this time. She sat quietly until the wave of dizziness passed. Must be the sleeping pills. Melinda was startled to realize she remembered her last action before she had gone to sleep. Usually, she was fuzzy before and after the incident, taking up to a week to fully remember the incident.

Walking on unsteady legs, she tried to explore the room. The surfaces of the walls were smooth, very smooth and just like she remembered from seeing it during her previous encounters. It reminded her of metal, except it was pure white. Somehow she knew there was no earthly equivalent. She continued her shaky exploration. There were no true corners in the room, no place to hide anything. Or at least not that she could see. Everything that should be angled had a roundness to it thus making it seem like a continuous piece. Leaning against the wall, she looked at the table she had been on. The table itself wasn’t frightening, but the instruments next to it were. Although many were not unlike what she had seen in hospital operating or delivery rooms, some were strange. The one that intrigued her the most was one reminding her of an octopus. It had a centralized body with many arms. She walked toward the table when she heard the soft hiss of the door. Slowly, she turned to confront whoever or whatever was coming to see her.

“I really never thought you would be this brave, Melinda. The pills were meant to knock you out so we could complete our work.”

Emma poured the eggnog, "Jenny, I truly hope Dr. Burnett stays here. I will say, besides him being a doctor, he is really good looking. It is hard to believe he hasn't settled down."

Jenny shrugged, silently grateful Jon hadn't settled down. "He's been so busy with his studies, I'm sure he hasn't had time to do anything, much less get married." He hasn't mentioned having a girl somewhere. She smiled to herself. Then again, he wouldn't have kissed me like that if he had a girl in another town.

"He sure seems to take a liking to you, Jenny. Maybe you can talk to him."

"Mom, he has to make up his own mind. I can't talk him into or out of anything, especially staying here in July." God I truly do hope that he does stay here. The odds were against it. He is a surgeon. Even with Stan paying off Jon's tuition and setting him up in his practice, Jon wouldn't make money by staying in this one-horse town. Still…will he accept Stan's proposal. Maybe he will go for it. Maybe he will stay. She was being selfish and knew it, mainly because she was hopelessly in love with Dr. Jon Burnett.

Feeling mixed emotions about the situation, Jenny smiled to herself again, feeling better as she placed the glasses on a tray. She was happy because she remembered the kiss she and Jon shared before they came downstairs. It was the most erotic kiss she had ever had to the point that she had to relieve herself of the sexual tension before she headed downstairs. However, the feelings of lust and love dissipated to despair because she knew in a day or so, as soon as the roads were cleared, he would be leaving--perhaps forever, if Jon rejected Stan's proposal.

Though she had only met him yesterday, if Jon did leave, it would shatter Jenny's heart as if he had died. She looked out the kitchen window. It was still snowing pretty good. Jenny hadn't seen such a huge snowstorm in recent history.

Jenny continued to stare out the window. She didn't really believe in fate, but couldn't help thinking that maybe fate did step in and bring Dr. Burnett and she together. Most importantly, fate giving July County the doctor they had longed for these past two years. This made her think of the snow. In some respects, she was glad that it was still snowing in that it would give Jon time to mull over the proposal that Stan offered him. Snowbound in this town, perhaps fate again was stepping in for him.

Finally, Jenny grasped the tray and she, along with her mother who also had a tray, made their way to the dining room. As soon as she entered the living room, for some reason, even with the room full of people, she immediately noticed that Jon was missing. She frowned and then asked her father, "Where's Dr. Burnett?"

After she'd attended the school for six weeks, Bonnie had to start taking her turn to make tea. Mrs. Reis had her marked down for mornings that week and Nina for afternoons. Each girl had to make tea for a week until, after twelve weeks all the students had their turn.

Bonnie didn't mind at all. She was allowed to leave class ten minutes early, so it would give her shelter from the other students' mean remarks for at least fifteen minutes. When she left the classroom, sly smiles and whispers followed her, and she quickly closed the door behind her and walked to reception.

After she opened the door to the print shop then closed it softly behind her, she noticed Abraham busy at his desk. He'd either not heard her come in or didn't take notice. His concentration remained on the work he was doing. "Good morning, Abraham," Bonnie said loud enough to overpower the noisy printing press.

Abe sat up then looked at her, pencil between his teeth. "Good morning, Missy."

Bonnie frowned. "My name is Bonnie." Their gazes locked and wild turmoil coursed through Bonnie's veins as she noted his fine features, very white teeth that contrasted sharply against his black skin and black eyes. His gaze bored into hers.

"I'm not allowed to call you by your first name," he said while he took the pencil from between his teeth and tapped it on the desk.

"Who says?"

"It's the law, Missy. I had better continue with my work before the boss walks in and catches us talking."

"It's a stupid law. I will not have you call me missy. You can't be that much older than me anyway."

Abe put his pencil down. "Missy, please let me do my work? I'll lose my job if they walk in and hear us talking."

Bonnie hesitated. Irritation at the South African apartheid law made her obstinate, but then she thought about what he'd just said. She didn't want to be the cause of Abraham losing his job.

Quietly, she walked to the kitchen, put the kettle on and got the tray ready. She couldn't find the sugar. After she searched all the cupboards and couldn't see it anywhere, she started for the door to ask June, but turned to Abraham instead. "Abraham, do you know where the sugar is hiding?"

Without a word he stood up from his chair and walked into the kitchen. Bonnie followed him. She stood behind him while he opened a top cupboard, reached into the back, and produced a large tin. Bonnie felt very small next to him. Her head just reached his armpits. She wondered how tall he was.

When he turned suddenly, he bumped into her. Their bodies touched briefly before Bonnie stepped back. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as the chemistry between them caused wave after wave of wild abandonment. His black eyes gazed into hers. She tried to read them, but all she sensed was separation, anger, defiance and disillusionment. Her eyes searched for a spark of interest, but she found none. The only signs of his discomfort were tiny droplets that suddenly dotted his forehead.