"I should have you arrested," BJ told Flynn

"Before you call in the feds," he said around a mouthful, "I have an
idea that might help us both. In fact, I've been thinking about this for
a while. We both have something the other needs. What if we barter?" He
moved his sandwich her way. "I do something for you- you do something
for me."

She yawned. "And what do you think you can do for me? Read the rest of
my mail? Sack my refrigerator again?"

"I have a better idea."

"I'm breathless with anticipation: Whatever can it be?"

"Barbara Jean Fairmont, I'm going to marry you."

2 Hi, Romance Lovers,

Ever wonder "who that superjock in high school ended up marrying, or who
that brainiac in all those advanced classes hooked up with?

A Fabulous Husband is that story. Football star, now army colonel Flynn
Maclntire and studious Barbara Jean Fairmont, now the town doctor, are
headed for the altar in a marriage of convenience...except nothing is
convenient at all. Keeping the marriage quiet leads to more problems
when friends and family find out and are doubly upset because they
weren't invited.

A Fabulous Husband is the second book in my FORTY & FABULOUS series.
There's nothing more fun than being in love, and being forty and in love
makes this the best time of all.

Enjoy another visit to Whistlers Bend, Montana, where fun, sass and a
whole lot of romance are the order of the day, and see what Maggie, BJ
and Dixie are up to now.

Have fun, and visit me at DianneCastell.com and let me know what's going
on in your FORTY & FABULOUS life.

Dianne Castell

P.S. I'd love to hear from you. Visit me at www.DianneCastell.com or
write me at DianneCastell@hotmail.com.

3 DIANNE CASTELL

HARLEQIJIN'

TORONTO NEW YORK LONDON

AMSTERDAM PARIS SYDNEY HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM ATHENS TOKYO MILAN MADRID

PRAGUE WARSAW BUDAPEST AUCKLAND

4 If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that
this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed"
to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received
any payment for this "stripped book."

ISBN 0-373-75092-7

A FABULOUS HUSBAND

Copyright © 2005 by Dianne Kruetzkamp.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any
electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented,
including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information
storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission
of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road,
Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of
the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same
name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual
known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ®
are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the
Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

www.eHarlequin.com Printed in U.S.A.

5 To Ann Marie...artist, adventurer and daughter extraordinaire. Thanks
for all the good times!

Dianne Castell's The Wedding Rescue

(February 2004) was voted

best Harlequin American Romance

of 2004 by Romantic Times magazine.

Books by Dianne Castell

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

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1077-A FABULOUS WIFE*

'Forty & Fabulous

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6

7

Dr. Barbara Jean Fairmont stood in the doorway of the Cut Loose Saloon
and peered through the thick haze of smoke at Colonel Flynn Maclntire,
the guy she'd dated for one whole month in high school until she'd told
him that dressing in weird clothes and running up and down a field after
an elliptical ball every Friday night was just plain stupid, and he'd
told her that debating questions that had no answers was a whole lot worse.

BJ and Flynn-the Brain and the Brawn, then and always. And even after
all those years, the one guy she'd never really gotten over. Was that
pathetic or what!

Oh, they'd changed-she was now the revered town doctor and Flynn a true
American hero-but they still had nothing in common. Why would he make
the army his life's work? Never staying in one place, never having the
same friends, never knowing where you'd be shipped off to next. The life
from hell!

Currently, Flynn was in a different kind of hell. He was home on leave
with an injured leg, and his grand-

8

mother had asked BJ to help him. And she would. Not just because Grandma
Mac had made the request or because BJ was a doctor and that was what
doctors did, but because she had to get rid of him.

Usually, her lingering and irrational attraction to him wasn't a problem
because he wasn't around for her to obsess over. But now he was here,
and likely to stay unless he got better and went back to the army, where
he belonged, leaving her in peace in Whistlers Bend, Montana, where she
belonged.

Some country-western singer warbled from the jukebox as BJ snaked her
way among the well-occupied chairs. Flynn sat alone, cigarette in hand,
table littered with longnecks, not doing himself one bit of good. How
could he abuse his body like this? And such a fine body it was. All
army, all muscle, all man. But ogling him was not why she was here. "If
you quit swilling beer and puffing cancer sticks, agree to get off your
butt and do therapy, maybe I can help you."

He glanced up and she gave his two-day-odd beard, wrinkled clothes and
ruggedly handsome face a quick once-over and shuddered. Gads, she was
more pathetic than she'd thought.

"If this is one of those tests for the inebriated, I'll flunk. So you
can save your breath and go away, Fairmont."

She let out a sigh and sat down across from him. "Oh, if only I could,"
she said, as much to herself as Flynn.

He turned the beer bottle in circles on the scarred wood tabletop.
"How'd I get to be your latest project? Doesn't anyone else in town need
your expert medical care and counseling?"

9

9

"Probably, but none of their grandmothers pounded on my door at 6:00
a.m. clenching rosary beads in one hand and a fistful of medical records
in the other."

Flynn's jaw dropped a fraction and his gaze met BJ's. "My medical
records? They were in my duffel."

"She's a grandmother. Grandmothers interfere. It's their duty. She loves
you and she's worried about you." BJ slid a folder across the table.
"You never came to me with any ailments even when you were on leave, so
I'm sure you didn't intend for me to be your primary-care physician now."

She tapped the folder. "Look, I considered going into orthopedics. Spent
time observing treatments and therapy, and I have doctors I can confer
with, if you cooperate." Oh, please cooperate! He was still so
appealing, so not the kind of man she could ever have a relationship
with. What would they talk about? What would they do? Kissing would be a
good start. No kissing!

"Sounds like Grandma Mac's been tuning in to Dr. Phil and hearing about
that intervention stuff again."

"Or she's concerned. Either way, she did ask me for advice and she's
having me over for corned beef and cabbage in-" BJ checked her watch
"-one hour and thirteen minutes."

Flynn nudged the top of the cane hanging from the table, the hooked part
rocking as he studied it. His eyes clouded for a second, as his thoughts
went someplace other than the saloon. "Help someone else. The good folks
at Walter Reed say this thing could be a permanent fixture in my life."
His eyes met hers for a moment. "And why doesn't she fix corned beef and
cabbage for me?"

10

"She doesn't think you're trying hard enough to get better and you
shouldn't have left the hospital before they discharged you, and no one
wants to upset the town hero by suggesting he's screwing up his life."

"Except you? The Brain and the Brawn just like old times." He took
another swig of beer and a drag off his cigarette, watching the smoke
fade into the air. "So, you're here because of a bribe of corned beef
and cabbage."

He leaned back and folded his arms across his solid, broad chest. The
index finger on his left hand was slightly crooked, as if it had been
broken and not set properly; he had a thin scar on his neck, a wider,
newer one at his chin and he was graying at the temples. A soldier. A
fighting soldier, who'd seen more than his share of combat. She could
only imagine what he'd been through and she hated it. But he'd returned
alive, and that was something to be hugely thankful for.

"You haven't changed since high school, BJ Fairmont. You think you know
all the answers."

"No, that would be you," she said, her doctor attitude rising to the
occasion, shoving everything else-even her latent Flynn desires-out of
the way, because getting him better was what really mattered. "Right now
I'm your last hope, Maclntire." She stood and leaned over the table,
meeting his gaze. "I'm all that stands between Flynn Maclntire, army
man, and Flynn Maclntire, civilian. If your leg doesn't improve, the
Colonel part of your name is history, or you get to shuffle papers in
some local recruiting office till you retire. I have an obligation as a
doctor to help you, and I will if you

11

11

let me. Until then, I'll save you leftovers. See you around, Colonel."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a pain in the ass?"

"All the time. I've got it on the little plaque right below my medical
degree," she told him, and headed out.

She pushed the door open and stepped onto the sidewalk, blinking to
acclimate from dark interior to bright July sunlight as she mumbled,
"Well, gee, that went well."

"Talking to yourself isn't so bad." Dixie's voice, coming from behind,
put BJ in a much better mood. "It's when you start answering that you
got to worry."

BJ turned and smiled at the second member of the Fearsome Threesome, as
everyone in town had called her, Dixie and Maggie for the past
twenty-five years. "Nice blouse. Any chance you bought one for me in blue?"

Dixie sashayed in a little circle, twitching her hips and showing off
her new clothes. Nobody sashayed like Dixie Carmichael. Nobody did
anything like Dixie. She hooked her arm through BJ's and continued down
the street, saying, "Pretty and Pink's having a sale. You better get
your fanny over before all the good stuff's gone. Maggie's there now,
picking the place clean for her honeymoon."

Dixie nudged BJ. "Any reason I should go back and buy baby things for you?"

BJ's heart tightened. "I don't think so. The letter from the adoption
agency is less than encouraging. Being single, having a demanding job
and turning the

12

big 4-0 last week didn't put my name on top of their adoption pile."

"I still think you should try the old-fashioned method. Be good for you."

"I did that, remember? Nearly married Randall Cramer. Believed I was in
love with him. But I was really in love with the idea of having a
family. And besides, all the wanting in the world won't compensate for
low progesterone levels."

She squeezed BJ's arm a little tighter. "We'll figure something out. The
three of us always do. There are a lot of alternatives these days. Right
now, though, let's grab a bite at the Purple Sage before my shift
starts, and you can tell me what you were doing in the saloon. Picking
up some vices, I hope."

"Does Flynn Maclntire count as a vice?" BJ pulled open the door to the
diner, inhaling the smells of America-cheeseburgers, hot fries, coffee
and apple pie. 'Course, it would be much healthier for everyone in
Whistlers Bend if the cheese didn't have the burger, the potatoes were
boiled, the coffee decaf and the apple not pied.

Dixie's eyes twinkled. "Flynn Maclntire always counts, and if vice is
involved so much the better." They slid onto chairs at their usual table
by the window. She continued. "And you talked to him! What in the world
brought that on? You two never talk-least, haven't since high school.
Remember when he pulled your panties up the high-school flagpole, read
your diary over the loudspeaker and called you brainiac?"

"And I put oatmeal in his football helmet and wrote

13

13

articles about jocks running up and down the football field because they
couldn't find their way out?"

"You two breaking up had to be one of the ten best breakups of all time,
though in my opinion it was a cover-up, that you still liked each other
and just didn't know how to make the relationship work."

"Trust me, that is one relationship that would never ever work."

"Darn shame, if you ask me. But word has it the hunky one-"

"The hunky one?" BJ rolled her eyes. "Where'd that come from?"

"From every woman in town except you." Dixie's expression turned
salutary. "Flynn's the king of hunky. Anyway, he's got six weeks to
report back to his base in acceptable physical condition-though his
delicious physical condition's always looked real acceptable to me."

Ditto, BJ thought. When Flynn was around she couldn't concentrate
without him jumping into her brain, and she couldn't sleep without Flynn
being right in the middle of it. "Grandma Mac asked me to help with his
leg and I told Flynn I might be able to if he'd give me a chance and
start taking care of himself. You can guess how well that went over."

Dixie pursed her lips. "You really believe an army guy like Flynn is
going to accept advice from a tall skinny blonde in Gucci loafers and
Armani slacks? The only coordinated thing about you is your wardrobe.
Like Schwarzenegger following bodybuilding advice from Bill Gates.
You're a wimp-Flynn's Rambo. Why should he listen to you?"

14

BJ held out her hands and gave her the duh look. "Because I'm a doctor?
What do I have to do-wear camouflage?"

"You'd look really bad in camouflage. Now, me.. .1 look great in greens
and browns with my red hair."

They ordered tea, Dixie adding a slice of chocolate cake. She propped an
elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. "Don't you think if
there was an easy answer to helping Flynn he would have gotten better in
the hospital?"

"He's given up, Dix. He's not trying anymore. I can see it in his eyes
and so can Grandma Mac. One day Flynn just walked out of Walter Reed,
bought a car and drove straight through to Whistlers Bend."

Dixie sighed. "Breaks the heart, doesn't it."

"Sympathy isn't what Maclntire needs. He needs..." BJ grinned, feeling a
brainstorm coming on. "Something else." BJ leaned close to avoid the
gossips. "What if he suddenly wanted, really wanted, to get better?"

She flashed a wicked smile. "What if Rambo got outdone by the tall
skinny girl who couldn't bounce a ball and chew gum at the same time?"

"Sounds like a throwback to high school, and that was a long, long, long
time ago."

"Not that long ago. When I was talking to Flynn overat the Cut Loose he
mentioned it-the Brain and the Brawn. All I have to do is do the things
he can't do now. I'll show him up and he'll hate that."

The food arrived, and Dixie forked a chunk of cake and wagged it at BJ.
"That's it? That's your great idea?

15

15

Don't you ever watch James Bond? Now, that man has great ideas."

BJ stole a bit of cake, plopped it in her mouth and said around a
mouthful, "That's the only idea I've got, Dixie. Someone's has to kick
Flynn in the ass."

"Don't kick too hard. That man has such a fine ass." Dixie gave BJ an
evil look as she went for more cake. "You could just order a piece, you
know."

"Can't. I'm the one peddling fruits and veggies around here, remember?
Besides, your cholesterol is too high already. I'm saving you."

"Bite me." Dixie licked icing from the fork. "If you're messing with
Flynn sex should be involved."

BJ choked and Dixie said, "That's what you get for stealing my cake."

BJ gulped water. "I know Flynn's Achilles' heel, Dixie. I know what
drives the man bonkers." She pointed to her chest and grinned. "Me, and
that definitely rules out sex. The Brain is going to beat the Brawn at
his own game and get him back in the army, where he belongs." And out of
my life so it can get back to normal!

Two hours later as BJ pulled on a pair of running shoes, she felt sure
her great plan would work just fine. It had to. After an hour of Grandma
Mac and her scrap-book of Flynn the football star, Flynn at Virginia
Military Institute, Flynn the war hero in Kosovo, Iraq the first time,
Afghanistan, Iraq the second time. Lots and lots of pictures of Flynn in
uniform and with his tanks. Couldn't he just carry a notebook and be
with the press

16

corps? Did he have to be so blasted macho, and why in the world did she
like it so much? She was a geek. She should be attracted to an
accountant. But she wasn't. She was more attracted to Flynn than ever.

It didn't matter, though, because soon he'd be gone, or at least
improving and on his way to being gone. She slid her cell phone in her
back pocket for emergency calls and stuck her hair under the Smith and
Hawkins baseball cap she'd gotten for buying two new rosebushes and a
garden trowel. She caught her reflection in the full-length mirror, took
off her cap and stuffed it under her T-shirt. BJ Fairmont, five months
pregnant. She arched her back pushing the hat out farther. BJ Fairmont,
seven months pregnant

Except, there'd never be any months because she'd never be pregnant.
Forty was too high-risk for a first pregnancy and not much better for
adoption. Why hadn't she started on this sooner? Because somewhere deep
inside, she thought she'd marry. Even after Randall Cramer had left her
standing at the altar ten years ago with the entire town in attendance,
she'd still thought she'd find her man, someone to love and to love her
in return. And then suddenly she was forty with no man and no baby.

The man she could do without. She had a life, a very meaningful and
fulfilling one. What she really wanted was a baby. But enough of the
baby blues. Right now she had to deal with Flynn Maclntire and get her
sanity back, or at least have it looming on the horizon.

She went downstairs to the first floor, through her now-deserted office,
which she'd decorated herself, ex-

17

17

amining rooms on one side, waiting room on the other. She locked the
side door behind her, inhaled the sweet aroma of her rose garden, then
crossed the street and headed for the lake. Grandma Mac had said Flynn
fished there every night. It was a perfect place for BJ to implement her
plan.

Evening sunlight had turned the July sky purple and pink, the Pryor
Mountains in the distance amber and shades of gold. Stillness had
settled over the earth-Montana caught between day and night. She spotted
Flynn at the end of a dock, sitting on the edge, fishing pole in one
hand, beer in the other, leaning against a piling, his back to her. She
thought of senior year when he'd run track. Poetry in motion. Now he was
a man. All man. Poetry had morphed into mature muscle, coupled with a
string of heroics a mile long. Her mouth went dry. Where had that sweat
above her lip come from? She didn 't sweat. Ha!

She took off toward Flynn, ignoring the broad shoulders that tapered
nicely into a trim waist. "Catch anything?" she asked when she got to
him, still jogging in place, all of a sudden wishing she hadn't taken
seconds of corned beef and cabbage at Grandma Mac's.

He looked up at her and rolled his eyes. "What the hell do you think
you're doing.. .besides scaring my fish with all your stomping around?
What kind of team is Smith and Hawkins?"

"I'm just out for a little exercise-running exercise. Getting all hot
and sweaty." Mostly over you. She had to forget that. Instead, she
concentrated on keeping her arms moving in time with her legs. Left
side, right side, left side, right side.

18

A Fabulous Husband

"You? Sweat? You never sweat a day in your life."

She gave him her best indignant stare and swiped her upper lip. "See,
sweat. Because I like to run, stay fit, keep in shape." She tipped her
chin. "You're just too busy guzzling beer to notice." She jogged up the
dock, then down.

"Yeah, you're a regular Marathon Man."

Man? Her eyebrows pulled together. "I am not a man." She jogged closer,
trying to remember what foot went with which hand to keep up the even
rhythm, suddenly feeling really winded and very tired and sick from
running on a full stomach of corned beef and cabbage. Running outside
was not like walking fast on her treadmill in her office. "In case you
didn't notice I am not a-"

She burped, felt nauseous, grabbed for a piling to steady herself,
missed and stumbled into the water. Water! She held her nose between her
finger and thumb and used her other hand to splash her way to the
surface. She spluttered.

"Stand up."

"I think I'm drowning!"

"The water's only four feet deep."

She straightened her legs and touched bottom. "Ohthankgod!"

She let go of her nose, pushed back her hair and looked to Flynn. He had
an amused expression on his face and was dangling her hat from the end
of his cane. She snagged it, wrung it out and put it on, the bill
drooping over her left eye.

"Didn't you ever learn how to swim?"

19

"I'm terrified of water except to drink, and then I use little glasses.
Heights don't do much for me, either." She shivered. "This water's
really cold."

He sat on the top of a piling and tipped his head to the side, and a
grin turned his lips. "I noticed. And so will anyone else who happens by."

"Noticed?" She glanced down, her nipples pressing against her wet
T-shirt. How could that happen with an almost A-cup size? She folded her
arms across her chest and Flynn's jacket landed over her head. Not all
bad, since now he couldn't see her blush. She shrugged into the jacket,
glad it fit like a small tent.

He waggled his cane at her. "Grab ahold so you don't slip and fall. The
fish have had their quota of belly laughs for one day."

She didn't want his help, but she didn't want to fall again. A woman
could stand just so much humiliation in one day. She grabbed on and
shuffled across the rocky bottom toward the dock. Flynn held on to the
piling, gripped her wrist and hauled her up onto the dock as if she were
no more than a big floundering trout. "Quit wiggling."

"I'm trying to lift myself out."

"Well, don't. I've got you. You should eat more. You're as scrawny as
you were in high school."

"Oh, thank you very much for the trip down memory lane." She wanted to
make some smart-alecky comment to salvage what little dignity she had
left, but she couldn't think of one thing. Besides, Flynn's big strong
hand was around her wrist. How'd someone get that strong?

20

A Fabulous Husband

Then she remembered that one month they were together and how he used to
pick her up and swing her around in his arms. Her heart beat faster and
she didn't feel cold at all.

Flynn studied her. "Say something sarcastic. You always say something
sarcastic. Are you okay?"

No!

She sat up and he shook his head. "I have no idea what the hell you're
doing out here, but I suggest you give the plan up. You're too old to be
jogging around the lake or-"

"Old? I'm the same age as you."

A little smile that wouldn't be contained pulled at his lips. "Men
handle it better."

"Look, buster. I'm handling forty just fine."

"Yeah, you probably are. BJ Fairmont handles everything just fine."

The flat scar at his chin, pale against his unshaven face, reminded her
who he was. A scar like that didn't come from some nine-to-five job
behind a desk, but from protecting her and everyone else in this country.

She stood and walked down the dock, her running shoes squishing out
puddles on the planks. She peered back at Flynn as he baited his hook.
"I suppose I owe you a thanks, but the water was only four feet deep, so
I wasn't in immediate peril."

"Except you didn't know it was four feet deep," he said without even
glancing her way, the smile straining once again.

Blast the man. She made for her house. Not only had her plan failed
miserably, but he'd gotten in the last

21

21

word, she'd have to launder his jacket and she'd have to come up with
another idea to outperform him. Running had been the easiest solution.
Actually, her only solution.

What else could B J Fairmont possibly do better than Flynn Maclntire?
There had to be something.

The next afternoon the sun dropped toward Bear-tooth Mountains as Flynn
called it a day. He tossed his toolbox and cane into the trunk of the
car, his automatic transmission vehicle because he couldn't drive the
damn stick-shift trucks of Maclntire and Sons Construction and glanced
back at the big lodge nestled against the mountainside. Kean and Scully,
his brothers, and the crew were hoisting sheets of plywood on the roof
of Maclntire and Sons' latest job. Flynn thought of the staircase Kean,
the eldest son, had worked on today because he himself couldn't climb
the ladders to the roof to help.

He massaged his leg. The doctors had said that the bullet wound to his
thigh and the shrapnel damage to his knee could improve with time and
exercise.. .or not. From the tone of the docs' voices the or not
definitely had the edge. At least Flynn had an edge, not like the two
soldiers, his soldiers, who'd died in that attack.

He'd had to leave D.C., the hospital. Remembering the attack, the men,
was...hell. He could do that in Whistlers Bend, where he could get to
his beer, cigarettes and fishing pole and everybody had enough sense to
leave him alone-except Barbara Jean Fairmont. What the hell was with that?

22

A Fabulous Husband

He thought of yesterday and her falling into the lake. Her running-or
whatever she was doing-where he fished couldn't be a coincidence. For
years they'd avoided each other, and now all at once he'd seen her twice
in one day. He hadn't seen her that many times in one day since high school.

He recalled the month they'd dated. The attraction had been there-no
doubt about that. BJ was some kind of kisser. Not right off-he was
probably the first boy she'd ever kissed, but once she'd gotten the hang
of it... He smiled to himself. She'd really gotten the hang of it.

He recalled the oatmeal-in-the-helmet incident and the stupid jock
article. He'd kept the article stashed in his duffel just for kicks,
even read it a few times when he was away in one hellhole or another. He
knew BJ Fairmont pretty damn good. Did she still have a passion for
those marshmallow Peeps things? Still like soft pink sweaters, still
flip her long blond hair back from her face when she was nervous? She
still wore only a touch of makeup, which didn't cover her freckles, and
only a kiss of lipstick.

Kiss? His insides stirred. Why did he have to recall so damn much?

He put the car into gear and Fairmont out of his mind, and headed for
home. He should get his own place soon. Once the army kicked him to the
curb, he wouldn't want to see the sympathy and disappointment on his
parents' and grandmother's faces every time he came into the house with
his cane. He'd never needed a place of his own before-had never been
home long enough to use it. But now.. .he needed space.

23

He rounded the lake, which reflected the pine-treed mountains in the
background, then turned onto the main drag-if a two-lane road could be
called main-and waved to Jack Dawson in his cruiser. Whistlers Bend was
damn lucky to have a veteran Chicago cop as sheriff. Flynn passed the
Show and Tell, then the small cluster of spruce trees in the town square
as BJ Fairmont came straight at him-on a motorcycle?

What the hell was Barbara Jean Fairmont doing on a damn Harley? She
couldn't even ride a bicycle. The woman had nowhere near the strength to
control a muscle machine like that. She was heading for disaster.

And he couldn't stop it!

He slammed on the brakes; cold sweat trickled down his chest as he
watched tragedy unfold before his eyes. She wasn't going that fast,
which gave him time to swerve left to avoid her. He could see that her
green eyes were round in confusion. She was going to crash, be injured
or worse. She veered at the last minute, bumped over the street curb,
ran between concrete pots and into the pines. Her body flopped one way
and the Harley dropped over on its side the other way. She lay lifeless
on the ground.

Flynn stared at her, suddenly seeing two soldiers' bodies lying lifeless
lying on the dusty ground.. .bombs exploding, fire everywhere, the smell
of death filling the air. His stomach tied into a knot, bile rose in his
throat, his heart raced and sweat drenched his clothes. He couldn't help
them, his men. What damn good was he? He shook his head hard, bringing
himself back to the moment, and ran toward BJ. He bent and felt for a pulse.

24

A Fabulous Husband

"Those fingers go anywhere else and you're dead meat."

Everyone who'd gathered around laughed and Flynn forced himself to
breathe. She was fine. Everything was fine, this time. He gulped in air,
getting himself under control. He faked a laugh, too, and swiped the
sweat from his forehead, feeling the presence of Whistlers Bend surround
him, instead of that of a war zone half a world away.

He turned her over and she stared at the sky. "Well, darn."

Snooky Anderson ran up, then hunkered beside BJ, his coveralls emitting
the familiar fragrance of Valvo-line oil mixed with transmission fluid.
On Snooky it smelled just right. "Doc?" he said in a panic. "You okay? I
should never have let you talk me into letting you ride the hog. What
was I thinking?"

He placed her pale hand in his huge grease-smudged ones, which could
fine-tune the most cantankerous carburetor and carry around a radiator
as if it were a Tinker Toy.

Flynn shook his head. "Hope you have good insurance, Fairmont. That's an
expensive machine you just wrecked."

"No need for insurance," Snooky said, still looking at BJ. "Last week
this little lady delivered my twin boys in the back seat of my pickup in
the pouring rain 'cause Trixie and I couldn't make it to Billings." His
deep voice shook. "Tell me you're okay."

She patted his hand. "I'm just fine. I know you showed me how to shift,
but I forgot that part, and I for-

25

25

got the stopping part and all the rest of the part. Actually, I don't
get it at all. Do they make Harleys in an automatic?"

Snooky gave her a wide-eyed look. "Uh, I don't think so."

She sat up and let out a sigh. "The mystique of motorcycles escapes me.
Guess I won't be the poster girl for the Harley-Davidson company anytime
soon."

Snooky picked her up and balanced her carefully on her feet. "Least you
landed in the grass. You should have worn the helmet."

"I only intended to go to the end of your driveway, remember. The thing
just ran off with me on it, and... how do you stop that thing again?"

Everyone laughed, and Snooky brushed grass from her arms and picked a
stick out of her hair. "I'll show you, but you have to wear the helmet
this time no matter what."

"I think I terrorized the population of Whistlers Bend enough and caused
you way too much grief. My motorcycle days are over."

She grinned at the gathering crowd and opened her arms wide. "I'm fine.
Evening office hours are still five to nine. Show's over. You can all
leave now. And remember to thank me for supplying you with dinner gossip."

Everyone laughed again as they headed off. Snooky snatched BJ into a
bear hug that made her eyes bulge and forced the air right out of her
lungs in an audible whoosh as her feet left the ground. "Thank the Lord
you're all right. Trixie would have my scalp if I let anything happen to
you."

26

A Fabulous Husband

He set her down, patted her on the head, snagged a fistful of blue
flowers from a decorative concrete pot and placed them in BJ's hand.
'There. You take care now, Doc." He pulled up the Harley and pushed it
toward Snooky's Garage.

BJ sniffed the flowers, smiled, still looking a little dazed, then
started to walk away until Flynn gripped her arm. Her smooth bare skin
against his hot palm made his heart skip a beat. Her unique scent mixing
with the flowers she held filled his head, crowding out the war ghosts
that kept him awake most nights. He held her for a second longer, some
part of him not quite ready to let her or the tranquillity that she
offered go, and then he remembered why he was there. "What are you
doing, Fairmont? You have no business on a Harley or jogging. You and I
both know that. If something happens to you, everyone's in a mess around
here. There's some plan in that big brain of yours, something to make
you take these chances, and what in the hell does it have to do with me?"

27

BJ shrugged. "A lot of doctors own Harleys and jog, and why would you
believe anything I do concerns you?"

Flynn didn't believe her for a military minute. "You really are a
terrible liar. And you have enough sense to care for yourself for the
town's sake, unless you have a good reason and that happens to be me. I
don't want to be your reason, BJ."

She gave him a hard look, taking in every inch of him in one glance,
sizing him up the way doctors do. "Where's your cane? Why is your shirt
soaked with perspiration? It's not hot today. Are you feeling okay? Are
you sick?"

He went perfectly still, remembering the flashback to the ambush. More
sweat slithered down his back and he swallowed the nausea. He forced a
grin and kept his eyes focused straight ahead. He was good at faking
well-being. Had been doing it for months. "I forgot the cane when this
lunatic on a bike came at me head-on."

His eyes locked with hers and he could see the concern there. His gut
twisted. She'd been an accident wait-

28

A Fabulous Husband

ing to happen and he couldn't stop it. Just like the ambush, where he 'd
lost two good men and couldn 't do a damn thing to help them. His throat
closed for a second; he couldn't breathe.

"Want to talk?" she said in a quiet voice. "I'm a good listener."

He pulled in a deep breath and got himself under control. "Yeah. Stay
the hell off motorcycles and don't aim for me when you're on 'em." He
aimed for his car, his leg throbbing, his shirt more drenched than
before. Two men gone, two more men he couldn't save. How many had there
been over the years. So many, way too many.

She caught up and walked beside him. "You should talk to somebody, Flynn."

He stopped and faced her. "Leave me the hell alone. Go back to doing
whatever you do and forget I exist, BJ."

Her eyes hardened a fraction. "You don't have to talk to me, but you
better talk to somebody. Whatever's eating you is not going away by
itself. I know you. Something's wrong and it's serious."

He got back in the car, charged the engine and made for the Cut Loose,
leaving BJ Fairmont in his wake. He wanted a beer. Several. A couple
packs of cigarettes. Not that anything could make him forget. Those
things just made him mellow. The best he could do, probably the best he
could ever do.

The next morning BJ sipped coffee in her kitchen behind the office and
gazed out the window as morning

29

29

filled her garden. Robins, cardinals, meadowlarks, doves swooped in for
breakfast at the feeders and sang as they groomed at the stone birdbath.
Butterflies and moths darted about blooms in every color she could find.
Two dragonflies played follow the leader over the little fountain by the
sidewalk and a hummingbird feasted on the Blaze roses billowing over the
back fence. A perfect morning, and the exact opposite of her motorcycle
escapade yesterday. What a fiasco.

The clock in the hallway bonged seven times and her left eye twitched as
the phone rang. Mother! Right on time. Not that talking to her mother
was a bad thing. But what would it be today? An update on the social
events at the country club? For sure the usual words of wisdom, like:
Barbara Jean, you really need to get out more, dear. Or, At forty you
're not a spinster, dear, just selective, but I think it's time you
selected.

BJ knew this all came from concern for her happiness. Margaret Fairmont
had loved being the town doctor's wife, doing philanthropic work and
having the biggest and loveliest house, with everything perfect-
including B J. She wanted the same for her one and only child. BJ hated
to disappoint her, but the perfect family was not in BJ's future.

BJ answered the phone and sorted her mail into bills and not bills as
her mother talked. She reread the latest letter from Washtash
International Adoption Agency and wrote a check for her phone bill as
her mother started in on the country-club social agenda and the charity
auction for college scholarships. BJ came across a picture of Snooky and
Trixie's twins. She took care

30

A Fabulous Husband

of everyone else's children in town, but she'd never get to take care of
her own.

She offered a substantial donation to her mother's latest project to
revamp the town square, figuring it was the least she could do since
she'd put motorcycle tracks through the middle. Her mother had just
launched into the current list of available men in Whistlers Bend, when
BJ heard the back door open and footsteps. She spotted Maggie Moran in
the hallway that separated the examining rooms.

"Mother!" BJ interrupted. "I have a patient who really doesn't look all
that good. I'll call you tomorrow, I promise. We'll do lunch next week.
My treat. I love you."

She disconnected just as Maggie stumbled into the kitchen. "Do you have
coffee? Please tell me you have coffee-and none of that healthy decaf
stuff."

"What are you doing in town so early? Guess you're not looking for your
delicious, soon-to-be husband or you wouldn't be here in my kitchen
looking like.. .this."

Maggie claimed a chair at the table. "Jack's got a sheriffs' meeting in
Billings today, and I'm searching for Andy the wonder buffalo. I can't
believe he's been on the loose for three weeks now. That mangy no-good
animal peeked in Mrs. Gimbell's bedroom window last night and scared the
poor woman to death. Can you imagine seeing this big buffalo head?
Probably snorted and messed her window. Anyway, she called Roy at
midnight, and being the good deputy he is, he went over and calmed her
down. If you have any ideas on how to catch a runaway buffalo, I'd
really like to hear them. I'm desperate here."

31

31

B J retrieved a cup and poured coffee. She handed it to Maggie as she
sat at the kitchen table. "Nice try at the small talk, but the real
reason you drove to town and barged in here is to find out why I was on
Snooky's Har-ley yesterday and what Flynn Maclntire has to do with it."

"There is that." Maggie sipped the coffee. "Heard you fell in the lake
and Flynn gave you his jacket. So, how is the great Flynn Maclntire
project that Dixie told me about progressing? Any signs he's weakening
and going to let you help him with his leg?"

"Any signs hell's freezing over?" She pulled out a chair and sat.
"Snooky's Harley has been treated and released. As for Andy, what
happened for his Peeps addiction? Isn't that how you raised him to go
where you wanted him to? What about leaving a trail of Peeps from town
back to the ranch."

"That's about ten miles of Peeps. It doesn't matter, anyway. Seems the
old boy's on a Peeps strike." Maggie leaned closer. "Right now I want to
know what's next in your great plans to outdo Flynn. Come on, give.
Because I know you're not throwing in the towel. You two butted heads in
high school, but not all the time. I remember one very good month when
you walked around on cloud nine and had a stupid grin on your face."

"That was a long time ago, and right now Flynn Maclntire wants no part
of, or anything to do with, me. So, this time he wins."

"Wins as in you can't think up another idea at the moment but will soon?"

32

A Fabulous Husband

"As in the man's beyond me. My ego got in the way of my good sense. I
went to Flynn, shot off my big mouth that I could help him stay in the
army, but I can't." She felt sick at the confession. However, it was
true, and she had no idea how to make it not true.

Maggie put down her cup. "You're a doctor. You can do this. I know
you're not an orthopedic specialist, but you do all sorts of things
around here. You just seem to know how, like your dad did."

"Let's just say my naive attempt to outdo him so he'd let me help fell
flat on its face. Or, more accurately, / fell flat on my face. And never
was a fall so justly deserved. I'm going to find him today, fess up to
what I've been doing and apologize. He'll be thrilled to have me out of
his hair, what little there is of it. Whatever he does, it's got to be
his choice. He needs help, but not from me. I'm a small-town doctor who
has no idea what war is like. He doesn't see me as anyone who can help him."

Maggie rinsed her cup in the sink. "Sure wish I could be around for that
apology. Flynn might kiss you, the way he did the last time you apologized."

BJ went perfectly still, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand
up. "What last time?"

Maggie stacked her cup in the dishwasher and scoffed. "You know what
last time I'm talking about. In high school, when you apologized for
that dumb jock article after you two broke up and declared war on each
other. Dixie and I were hiding in the bleachers when you cornered him
after football practice. You told him you were out of line, the article
was over the top

33

and you should never have written it, and he grabbed you and kissed you,
then trotted off."

She fanned herself with her hand. "It was a really good kiss, too.
That's my kind of apology, though it was a darn shame he left just when
things were getting interesting."

"You hid in the bleachers?"

Maggie faced her and grinned. "We're best friends. We share everything."

Not everything, BJ thought as she grabbed her cell phone from the
counter. They had no idea she was still attracted to the man. She headed
out the door. "I better get going. I have afternoon office hours.
Flynn's helping his brothers with Sam Maxwell's new lodge up in the
mountains. I can apologize there. I've given this town enough gossip to
last the next year."

BJ locked the door, and Maggie said as they walked through the garden,
"Call and tell me what happens."

"I can tell you that now," she said at the trellis of Blaze roses.
"There'll be a lot of eating crow on my part, a lot of happiness on his,
and this time there will be no kissing."

An hour later BJ parked her SUV in front of a new post-and-beam lodge.
On the drive out, she thought of Flynn's kisses a million years ago.
She'd never kissed a boy before Flynn. He'd taught her, and then they'd
taught each other. Shouldn't this memory have faded by now? It hadn't.
She could still imagine his lips on hers. Not good. She needed to forget
and get over him once and for all.

34

After the apology she'd steer clear of him, get involved with other men,
make Mother happy. She could take part in the social gatherings for
charity at the country club, as her mother wanted. Then again, it would
be so much easier and less painful just to join a nunnery.

BJ gazed at the huge structure that Sam Maxwell, the Indiana Jones of
Whistlers Bend, was having built. He'd worked his fanny off to make a go
of Adventures Unlimited and build his incredible lodge for his
customers. The lakes below and Beartooth Mountains behind made it a
little piece of paradise.

She waved to Scully and Kean on the roof, the racket of their power
nailers and saws fracturing the Montana peace and giving all wildlife
within a ten-mile radius a migraine. The brothers stopped long enough to
say their families were fine and inquire about her mother.

The steep gables that seemed to touch the sky made BJ glad she'd finally
talked the senior Maclntire into retiring. Jake, with Mary, in Tahiti
beat the heck out of Jake on that roof.

She picked her way over piles of lumber and around stacks of bricks and
slate and walked through the opening that served as a door. "Anybody home?"

"Out for a little rock climbing or something else to bring your life to
a speedy end?" Flynn said behind her.

Every day he seemed a little worse, eyes darker, mouth tight. A man
alone who prided himself on having the answers and leading the way, till
now. "I came to apologize."

Flynn's right eyebrow arched and he leaned against one of the rough-hewn
logs holding up the second floor.

35

35

"Now, that one I didn't expect. You never cease to amaze me, BJ
Fairmont. Apologize for what?"

"Trying to persuade you to let me help you. The truth is, I can't
because your problem's in your brain."

His left eyebrow arched to meet his right. "This is probably the first
time in a long time you've acknowledged I have one."

"Something's going on with you, Flynn, that I can't fix. You should get
help, and-" she rushed on before he exploded "-you have to talk to
somebody and do it soon...please."

"If this is your idea of an apology, it sucks."

"I'm getting there, but you get the lecture first because I drove all
the way out here. I was trying to push your buttons. I thought if you
watched me, the inept one, doing things you did so easily, you'd get
royally ticked off and start working harder to get better. That was a
simplistic approach to a very complex problem, and until I saw you after
I wrecked the Harley I didn't realize how complex."

"Now you think I'm complex? All this flattery at one time is hard to take."

"Well, don't fall into a swoon. You're thickheaded, arrogant and have an
overinflated ego, but you're hurting, and not just your leg. You could
have post-traumatic stress syndrome or delayed stress syndrome. Either
in any form requires attention from a professional."

"Dr. Freud, I presume?"

She'd hoped to see a flicker of acknowledgment in his blue eyes,
something that hinted he agreed with her about counseling. But that
didn't happen. Anger tore

36

through her and she refused to let him off the hook. "You can
smart-mouth me all you want, but you know I'm right and-"

Kean strode into the lodge, blood trickling from his wrapped hand. He
zeroed in on BJ. "Howdy, Doc. Good thing you're here. We can use your
satellite phone. I think Scully broke his damn leg up on the damn roof."

BJ took Kean's hand and unwound his shirt, which he'd wrapped around it.
"What happened to you?"

"I reached for Scully when he fell and ran my damn hand across the damn
saw. Scully will need some help getting down. Usually, we have a fall
crew working, but today they're trucking in supplies and having a little
R & R over in Billings. We've been on the job nonstop getting this place
buttoned while we still have the weather."

Flynn snagged his cane and headed outside as BJ extracted an ironed
handkerchief from her back pocket and pressed it to the wound. Ironed
handkerchiefs were worth their weight in gold to a doctor-a little
priceless advice from Dr. Dad, God rest his soul. "You'll need stitches,
but for now make a fist-not too tight- and let up every five minutes.
Stay here, keep your hand elevated above your heart and rest. I'll go
out and see how Scully's doing."

"I got to go with you. I'll go nuts in here." She followed Kean outside.
Flynn waved to Scully and he waved back. Flynn said, "Looks like he's
doing okay."

She pulled her satellite phone from her pocket and handed it to Flynn.
"Tell Billings Memorial who you are and that you're calling for me. That
we need airlift asap. The number's on speed dial. Give directions.

37

Flares to mark our location are in my car. Call the fire department. The
volunteers will know how to get Scully down from a roof like this. They
rescue climbers from the mountains all the time." She pointed to a pile
of bricks and said to Kean, "Sit there and hold your hand cradled at
your chest."

Flynn's eyes met hers, the blue more intense than a moment ago. "Where
the hell are you going?"

She nodded to the roof. "To help Scully."

"That's probably the most insane thing I've ever heard you say, and I've
heard plenty. It's a broken leg, Fairmont. The fire department will get
Scully, just like you said. He'll be okay. Pissed because this will set
the project back, but okay."

"Unless he passes out or goes into shock or just gets a little woozy and
slides off that roof like-

"Like a greased pig down a playground slide," volunteered Kean.

"I'm a doctor. I'm going up to help your brother. This is what I do.
Just make the damn calls, okay?"

She started for her car, but Flynn blocked her path. "You can't even
walk down a dock without falling in the water, for Pete's sake."

"I was jogging then. I probably won't jog on the roof."

He leveled her a look that said he meant business and she'd better damn
well do as he said. She imagined a lot of soldiers had seen that
expression. He said, "You're inept," he told her. "Just said so
yourself. And you're forty. Forty-year-old women do not climb around on
roofs, especially you."

38

A Fabulous Husband

"But forty-year-old men can do whatever they want, right?" she scoffed.

His jaw set in a firm line as he towered over her.

"Is that some military-authority stance meant to make soldiers do what
you tell them? Well, I've got news for you, Colonel Maclntire. This
isn't the military, and I'm not a soldier. I'm the doctor, this is my
town, my people, and what I say goes here, so get used to it."

She walked around him, grabbed her medical bag from her SUV, and started
toward the house, Flynn right behind her. "We'll argue again tomorrow,
all day if you like. You can even go first." She gazed back at him. "But
for now just get the fire department and helicopter here."

Flynn called himself every name for idiot. Scully was hurt and he
couldn't do one damn thing to help his own brother. How could this
happen? How could he let this happen? What kind of man was he?

Fairmont walked off and he was relegated to hobbling on a cane and
ringing up the fire department, then the hospital. He made the calls as
she climbed the ladder to the roof, her father's old black medical bag
hanging from her belt, which she'd made into a sling across her chest.

"I should have gone with her," Kean said at his side.

"Not with that hand. You would have really torn it open. I should be the
one up there with her."

"Well, it's a cinch somebody should. Look at her. Didn't she ever climb
on monkey bars when she was little, take PE in high school?"

"I think they gave her a special dispensation."

"She's done this sort of thing before with rock

39

climbers and spelunkers. I've just never been around to see it."

She slipped, knocking her head hard against the ladder before catching
on with her free hand. Flynn's heart stopped and Kean sat down. "I can't
watch. She's never going to make it, everybody in town's going to hate
us. Probably tar and feather us for not taking care of our only doctor.
Do they really tar and feather people anymore? It doesn't sound
pleasant, whatever it is, and I'm really allergic to feathers."

"She's going to make it," Flynn said as much to Kean as to himself. "I
don't know how, but she will, just like she's made it the other times.
She's the most independent, bullheaded person I've ever met."

"Hell, she was probably an army colonel in her other life."

She swung her leg over onto the roof and crawled on all fours to Scully.
Kean stood ;and thumped Flynn on the back. "Well, hot damn, she did it.
I can't believe it. I gotta tell you I had my doubts."

Flynn let out a deep breath that felt as if it had come all the way from
his feet. "I better light those flares. The chopper will be here soon."

Kean grinned. "And, thanks to the doc, we'll all see the next sunrise."

"Yeah." Flynn rubbed his leg as he headed for an open spot between the
trees. "Never underestimate the gift of another sunrise."

"Or the determination of the local doc," Kean added as he followed.
"She's something, isn't she?"

Flynn thought about that as he snapped the flares and

40

set them out. Their dense black smoke curled into the sky, marking the
landing site. BJ Fairmont was something, always had been. She could make
him angrier than anyone, defied him, and was hell-bent on doing things
her way, not caring a rat's behind if he agreed or not.

Weren't woman supposed to mellow when they got older? Hell, BJ hadn't
mellowed one bit. She was like a damn drill sergeant, ready to chew
anyone's ass who got in her way.

The next morning, as he pushed open the white picket gate that led
through the garden beside her house to the doctor's office entrance on
the side, Flynn was still trying to figure out what the heck BJ Fairmont
was all about. He'd thought he understood her well, would have staked
his life on it. But times and BJ had changed, and now he wasn't sure.
She was stronger, more self-assured, capable, in charge, a leader. She
took care of this town no matter what the risk. He knew that responsible
feeling, but never suspected BJ did.

She hated heights and she couldn't climb worth squat, and still she'd
gone up on that roof after Scully. She'd stayed with him and gotten him
stabilized till the airlift had arrived. Flynn hadn't even had a chance
to say thanks.

A fountain gurgled somewhere inside the garden, and the scent of flowers
drenched the air. Insects and birds darted about, and he'd never seen so
many damn roses in his life. The pristine-white clapboard house with
green gambrel roof and shutters and brown rabbit

41

41

hopping across the yard made him feel as if he'd walked into one of
those Jane Austen movies Grandma Mac liked to watch.

He'd bent to get a closer look at a white rose brushed with gray and
purple, when a child's voice said, "If you wait till Doc BJ gets back
she'll cut you a rose and wrap it in a wet paper towel so you can take
it home and put it in a glass of water. It makes the whole room smell
good. But you got to be real careful of the thorns because they hurt
like hell if they stick you."

Flynn grinned. The sweet little voice had him till the hell part. Two
little boys sat on a white bench by the house. About five and seven, he
guessed, but he was no expert on kids, except for the hell-on-wheels
glint in the older one's eyes. That he could relate to.

"I'm Drew and this is my little brother, Petey. He has diabetes and
today he's got a splinter, too." He took his brother's finger and held
it up for Flynn to see as he hunkered down by the boys.

Flynn shook his head. "That must hurt."

Petey nodded and Drew said, "Why do you have to walk with a cane?"

"Messed up my leg."

"Doc BJ can fix you right up. She can fix anything. This is Wednesday,
so she's over at Ms. Millie's, making a house call, giving her vitamins
and checking her blood pressure. Ms. Millie bakes no-sugar pudding for
me and Petey, and we visit every afternoon and talk about stuff. Ms.
Flo's the nurse. She'll be here about noon. Doc BJ has office hours late
on Wednesdays for all the people who have to work."

42

A Fabulous Husband

Flynn chuckled. "You sure know a lot about Doc BJ." This was more
personal information about BJ Fairmont than he'd had in twenty years.
Her father had died some time ago and that she didn't still live with
her mother surprised him. He'd always imagined Barbara Jean Fairmont in
that big white-columned house on the hill at the edge of town. Strange
that he never thought of her married, just single.

Drew said, "She watches Petey real close... 'cause of his diabetes. We
live around the corner with our aunt and come here every morning for
breakfast. Petey already had a banana with peanut butter."

Drew pointed to the second floor. "She sleeps up there. Petey and I have
a secret hideout under the kitchen window flower box and pretend this is
a jungle. We can hear Doc BJ cooking in the kitchen and talking on the
phone. Hideouts are fun."

"My brothers and I used to have a hideout up at Silver Gulch," Flynn
said. "We found this little cave by the main entrance, hidden by brush
and this pine tree with two trunks. We used to ride our bikes there."

Drew's eyes danced. "Petey and I have old bikes. Maybe we-"

"It's too far and I was a lot older. Your hideout sounds great, and it's
close to the kitchen if you get hungry."

"Maybe Doc BJ will give you breakfast, too. The kitchen's in the back of
her office," Drew said.

Flynn tried to remember the last time he'd eaten. His stomach growled
and the boys laughed, their faces lighting up in youthful innocence. He
thought of all the

43

43

kids he'd seen in places not fit to raise cattle, much less children.

"Petey needs to get more exercise, so Doc BJ plays catch with us. She's
awful at catch, even for a girl. She can't catch anything. She sucks!"

"Are you telling stories about me, Drew?" BJ asked from down the path. I

Flynn stood and ruffled Drew's head, then Petey's. BJ looked great
today. Climbing on roofs agreed with her. How could she be so fresh and
bright after yesterday? It had to have taken a toll. But she'd not only
met the challenge, she thrived on it. "Just man talk. You know how it is."

She eyed Flynn, her expression suddenly serious. Did she know about the
going-to-pot idea? He wouldn't be surprised if she picked up a bird
feeder and beaned him right there on the spot.

"I called the hospital an hour ago and Scully was okay. Should come home
today. Has anything changed? Is that why you're here?"

"No." He mentally breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't in the mood for a
beaning. Yesterday had pretty much done him in. Today he wanted peace.
"This is just a friendly visit. We can talk after you fix a certain
splinter."

BJ turned her attention to the boys. "A splinter? Oh, my. I thought this
was just a breakfast visit."

She gripped the boys' hands, one on each side. Her ability to care for
people was remarkable. It came as natural to her as firing a rifle did
to him. Which proved how opposite the two of them were.

44

He followed the little procession through double glass doors with
original wood mullions and into a hall with buffed random-width oak
floors, dark green walls and wide white trim. A reception desk occupied
a corner by the doors; the waiting room was on one side of the hall and
the examining rooms on the other.

The boys headed to a room with teddy-bear wallpaper, yellow curtains and
a bear on a stool. Petey took the bear, then climbed onto the table like
someone who'd done it many times.

Flynn leaned against the wall outside. Even kids were entitled to privacy.

He heard Drew say, "I'm still writing down everything Petey eats, but my
spelling isn't good. That new sticker machine you got him for testing
his blood sugar doesn't hurt much, does it, Petey? Aunt Katie said
thanks for buying it for him."

"You're a really good big brother, Drew," BJ said. "You should be proud
of yourself for helping Petey."

"Aunt Katie's got a new boyfriend again and we don't like him. He yells
at us. Give Petey his insulin and then we can eat. That big guy with the
cane who came in with us hasn't eaten, either. His stomach growled.
Maybe we can all have bacon and eggs."

BJ laughed. A light, sincere sound that made Flynn smile. She might suck
at catch, and her climbing ability put a serious crimp in the theory of
man evolving from apes, but the woman sure as hell understood kids.

"If Colonel Maclntire would like to join us for bacon and eggs, he'd be
most welcome," she said. "Though he really likes oatmeal. It's one of
his favorite foods." Had

45

45

she raised her voice a fraction for him, suspecting he was listening?

Drew asked, "Is he really a colonel? In the army and everything?"

"Yes, he is," BJ answered, then added, "now we'll give Petey his shot in
the tummy and we'll all go eat. I made fresh peanut butter yesterday."

Shot in the tummy? Flynn peeked in the room as Petey lay down. He was
five; there wasn't much tummy there to stick. But he didn't cry or
complain or even whimper.

"All done," BJ said. "Time to eat."

BJ and the boys trooped out, nearly running into Flynn. Drew said,
"Doc's fixing bacon and eggs. She makes great dippy ones you can dunk in
the bacon. Do you want some? She said you liked oatmeal, but Petey can't
have that because it's a carbohydrate."

"Actually, I was thinking more of..." Black coffee and a couple of
cigarettes almost popped out of his mouth, till he caught BJ's eyes,
which seemed to say, Oh, please behave. Well, hell. "Bacon and eggs are
great, and I only like oatmeal served in a football helmet."

The boys laughed. And twenty minutes later they were still laughing as
they ran out the back door.

"So," BJ asked as she collected dishes and he cleaned off the table.
"What's with your friendly visit? Another lecture about climbing on roofs?"

"How bad's Petey's diabetes?"

"In kids, treating diabetes is a balancing act between insulin, food and
exercise. Takes a lot of monitoring and

46

special care. The boys live with their aunt. She got them when their
mother and father died in a terrible car crash in the mountains two
years ago. They've been through a lot, and Katie's young-twenty-five-and
got a life of her own. Raising two boys, one a special-needs child, is
not what she had in mind."

"You take care of a lot of people."

She scraped breakfast remains into the garbage disposal. "It's my job.
You have yours-I have mine."

"Like caring for Scully and Kean?"

She stopped stacking plates in the dishwasher and quirked an eyebrow at
him, as if she hadn't expected him to say that, either. "The Maclntire
clan would have managed fine if I hadn't been there yesterday. They're a
resilient lot. I just made things a little easier."

She went back to loading dishes, and he took her arm and turned her
toward him. Her green eyes were a match for the perfect lawn outside the
window; her skin was fresher than any flower in her garden. He spotted a
red mark on her left temple, probably from when she'd knocked herself on
the ladder going to get Scully. That was his own fault. If he wasn't
tied to this damn cane, he'd have been the one on that roof, not her.

"We both know Scully was a little harried by the time the fire
department got him down, and doing airlift and not facing a jarring
two-hour ride to Billings in an ambulance helped a lot. That plan of
yours for outdoing me worked fine."

"Scully on that roof was not part of any plan."

"You on that roof and not me seriously dented my

47

overinflated ego-that is what you called it, right? I wanted to thank
you for yesterday, and if you think you can help with my leg, I'm
willing to listen."

Okay, where the hell had that come from? That was not why he came. He'd
wanted to say thanks, period. But now that the words were out.... "I
can't let my brothers or anyone else down again. You're here and I'm
here and why the hell not. I sure don't have anything else to do."

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and drew out a blank check,
then sat down at the kitchen table. "Okay, name your fee."

She stood perfectly still in the middle of her pristine yellow-and-white
kitchen. "You're a soldier. You're paid in full. And I don't think my
ideas will work. You need counseling, Flynn."

His body tensed. "I don't need counseling. I'm fine. And how'd you get
so damn sure about what I need and don't need, and how'd you get so
stubborn?"

"Went to school with some big Irishman. A total pain in the butt, but he
taught me everything I know."

"You passed me up years ago, and I don't want your blasted pity,
Fairmont, just your medical advice." He pulled out a pen. "How much?"

She shook her head, her long blond hair swaying across her slender
shoulders. "I don't pity you, and for sure I'm not taking your money.
Look, you've given twenty years of your life to-"

"Doing exactly what the hell I wanted to do." He straightened his spine.
"I pay my way. I'm not a charity case, someone to be pitied."

48

"I never said I pitied you. I just don't take money from people who
serve our country so I can live like this." She gestured at the kitchen.
"I owe you."

He stood and jammed the pen and checkbook into his pocket. "Forget it.
This was a dumb idea. I don't know what I was thinking. It's always got
to be your way or no way."

"That's your motto, not mine."

He snagged his cane, which was hanging from the table edge. "Thanks for
helping Scully. Stay off roofs. You could have killed yourself."

She tipped her chin. "I'll do whatever I want."

Her green eyes met his across the room. "Do you listen to anyone?"

"Do you?"

"Ah, screw it." He strode across the kitchen and out the back door.

49

After evening office hours were over, BJ decided that this day had to be
the longest in recorded history. Not only had it started with her
battling with Flynn and being in the wrong again, but all her patients
had wanted to know about it. They weren't sick; they'd craved juicy
details. Today this wasn't a doctor's office but a blasted gossip mill.
She had no idea how everyone had found out about her encounter with
Flynn in the first place.

She set the lock, turned off the lights and spied Dixie jogging up the
walk. Dixie running? Oh, boy! BJ undid the lock and opened the door,
preparing herself for yet another catastrophe. "What's happened now?"

Dixie pulled up short. She tried to give BJ an indignant look while
gasping for breath. "How do you know something happened? How do you know
I haven't started exercising and decided to cut my fat intake the way
you're always nagging me to do?"

"Because no pigs of any shape or size have flown through my garden or
over my house tonight."

50

A Fabulous Husband

BJ laughed and Dixie spread her arms wide. "Just what I need-a smart-ass
doctor for a friend. But that can wait. Right now Flynn's in a mess.
Some cowboys were hitting on that new young barmaid, Belle, over at the
Cut Loose, and Flynn knocked them out before anyone realized what
happened. You should have seen it, like some Schwarzenegger movie."

BJ ran her fingers through her hair. "Damnation!"

"Hold on-there's more. To keep his bar from being turned into a pile of
kindling, Ray called Jack. So, unless you want to see an army colonel
and a Chicago cop go at it, you'd better think of something fast. I
figure this is partly your fault, since everybody knows you and Flynn
had words and he's been spoiling for a fight all night. That's not like
him."

BJ closed her eyes and massaged her temples. "I don't believe this."

"That's why you're coming with me right this instance."

BJ barely got a chance to relock the door before Dixie grabbed her hand
and tore down the garden path and out the gate. They rounded the corner
and elbowed their way into the saloon. Four stunned men lay on the
floor, Jack on one side of the room, Flynn on the other, eye to eye,
testosterone dripping from the walls. Men!

"See? What did I tell you!" Dixie whispered.

She couldn't stand here and wait patiently while things went to hell.
And Dixie was right. This was partly her fault for not helping Flynn on
his terms instead of insisting things go her way. What had happened to
kindness and understanding? She was one stubborn woman

51

and this was the result. Why hadn't she just taken his damn check and
donated the money to charity or something? She wasn't any more mature
now than she had been in high school. Grow up, BJ!

B J walked into the middle of the room and stood between Jack and Flynn.
His legs were apart, lip bloody, face pinched into hard lines. He looked
as mean and ornery and dangerous as a wounded bear. Even in battle mode,
though, he looked more handsome than any man should.

He growled, "Get the hell out of here, Fairmont. Go write a prescription."

"I'm not going anywhere, Maclntire." She pointed to the men on the
floor, who were too stunned to move. "Who do you think's going to stitch
these guys back together-Martha Stewart? Me, that's who, and I'm already
tired and had a long enough day without you adding to it."

He clenched his hands and nodded at the cowboys on the floor. 'They were
asking for it."

And knowing Flynn, they probably were. "Well, you're not a one-man
vigilante committee."

She faced Jack. "This is all my fault."

Jack cocked an eyebrow. "I doubt that."

Flynn gave a dry laugh and added, "You sure as hell didn't take these
guys out."

BJ ignored Flynn and continued. "If I patch these men up and assume
responsibility for the big ugly one still standing, will you let him go
with me and not lock him up?"

Jack gave her a half smile. "You figure you can pull that off?"

52

A Fabulous Husband

Flynn snorted. "This I gotta see."

BJ turned back to him, staring him dead in eyes lit with the fire of
fight. He had great eyes, the kind that opened clear through to his
troubled soul. "Listen up, Maclntire. You can either come with me and
mind your manners, or I'll get Grandma Mac in here to read you the riot
act. It's your call. What's it going to be?"

She watched the color in his eyes darken to navy and the fire die. He
understood what she said. Grandma Mac was not to be messed with, either
out of respect for the woman who'd known every kid in town for the past
fifty years, or maybe because no one wanted to disappoint her. And she
would still keep wayward males in line with a few choice phrases that
seemed to bring them to their senses and make them shape up.

Flynn held out his hand to one of the cowboys on the floor and said,
"Apologize to Belle and we'll call it even."

The cowboy gave Flynn a wary look, took his hand and stood. The other
three men did the same and the crowd slowly dispersed to reclaim bar
stools and tables, the usual din gradually filling the room.

Jack ran his hand around his neck and said to BJ, "Good luck, you're
going to need it. Call me if you want help. Flynn's a hell of a good
guy. He's going through a bad patch. Just wish he wouldn't take it out
on the town."

Jack left and BJ watched Flynn hand Ray money, probably for the bar bill
and damages. That was more the Flynn Maclntire she knew, a man who
accepted responsibility for his actions. The fighting side was one she
hadn't seen at all.

53

Flynn, cane in hand, followed the cowboys to the door, but when he
passed her, BJ snagged his arm and held him back. His muscles were firm,
powerful. "You're really coming with me without a battle? Did you get
hit in the head or something?"

Flynn studied her slim hand in his. It seemed defenseless, but that was
a lie. Barbara Jean Fairmont was one of the strongest, most resilient
people he'd ever met, even if she did drive him nuts. Still, she wasn't
invincible, as she thought he was. "You really believe I'd let you go
off alone with four cowboys who just gave another woman a hard time?"

She wrinkled her nose and tsked. "If that's what gets you to my office,
fine. But nothing's going to happen to me. Everyone keeps the doctor
safe. Without me, the closest medical care is an hour's drive unless you
want to visit Doug Lambert at the veterinary clinic." !

He slid his arm away, and grabbed her elbow and ushered her out of the
saloon. 'The sooner you get those cowboys patched up, the sooner you can
get some sleep. You look like hell."

"You're such a flatterer. How can I ever resist your manly charms?" she
said with so much sarcasm that he chuckled. It felt good, damn good.
Even better than the fight.

"Do you have to walk so fast?" she groused. "Slow down a little, will you?"

"Hell, I'm the one with the cane, Fairmont. Keep up." He turned into her
garden and saw the cowboys wait-

54

A Fabulous Husband

ing by the side door. She pulled up to them, lifted a flowerpot and
snatched a key.

She directed the cowboys to the examining room, then leveled Flynn a
stern warning. "Just for the record, you are spending the night on my
sofa like I promised. I gave Jack my word, so get used to it."

Her gaze met Flynn's. Both of them squared off, as if seeing who'd back
down first. "It's stupid to sleep on your couch when I have a bed at
home," he said.

"What's stupid is you slugging it out with those poor cowboys because
you're pissed off at me for not doing what you wanted this morning."

His eyes widened. "What's with the poor cowboy bit? Those guys are
younger than me, stronger and they have six good legs between them."

She put her hands on her hips. "You're built like a grizzly, have the
same temperament and have probably been in more bar fights than Jesse
James. The cowboys didn't stand a chance. The reason I came after you is
that I didn't feel like gluing you and Jack back together after you made
mincemeat out of each other. And, if you messed up Jack's face for his
wedding, Maggie would strangle you with her bare hands."

BJ flipped on the light in the hallway and nodded at a couch in the dark
waiting room. "Stay there and let me deal with the cowboys. Then I'll
see if your lip needs stitches and check out your eye-it's starting to
swell. Don't break anything in my house because you're in a nasty mood."

"I'm going home."

"No you're not. You got yourself into this. Now you

55

55

can live with the consequences." She turned and left him standing in the
hallway.

"You're not telling me what to do, Fairmont," he called after her.

"You're not going out and causing another round of mayhem. I'm all
mayhemed out." She didn't even dignify his statement with a glance back.
She was used to everyone doing what she said without question. Well, not
him, dammit.

He watched her go into one of the examining rooms, then come out with
two ice bags and a towel. "For the lip and eye. Don't put the ice
directly on your eye. Wrap the bags in the towel. If you're hungry you
know where to find the kitchen. Clean up after yourself. This isn't the
Waldorf."

He looked from the ice bags and the towel, suddenly realizing he was
tired to the bone. Tired of fighting, tired of not being able to walk,
tired of his own miserable company, which was not improving one bit. And
no matter what BJ said, he wasn't leaving her alone in the middle of the
night with men he didn't know.

Flynn went to the leather sofa and dropped onto the soft cushions, his
cane propped against his left knee. It was better than jail and way
better than a lecture from Grandma Mac. She'd raised him to be a
gentleman. Tomorrow he'd bring her flowers and apologize.

He listened to BJ's voice drifting out from the examining room as she
gave the cowboys hell about mistreating Belle. BJ Fairmont was good at
giving hell. She didn't take crap from anyone, including him. She kept

56

A Fabulous Husband

Whistlers Bend in line as much as the sheriff did. And her word carried
as much weight as the written law.

He needed food. He hadn't eaten since dippy eggs with the boys. His
stomach rolled, the egg part not sounding too great right now, but maybe
a sandwich would do the trick. He took his cane and headed for the
kitchen, switched on the overhead light and opened the fridge. He pulled
out turkey, ham and cheese and piled them high on fresh bread. Added a
pickle, lettuce, some shredded carrots and green olives from a half-full
jar. A masterpiece. His mouth watered.

He snagged a plate, then ripped a paper towel from the holder, knocking
a pile of mail onto the floor.

He hunkered down and gathered the mail into a heap. Phone bill, electric
bill, three advertisements for garden supplies, Washtash International
Adoption Agency. He did a double take and pulled that envelope from the
others, then placed the rest back on the counter. He sat at the table,
bit into his sandwich, opened the envelope from the adoption agency and
read.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" BJ stood in the doorway,
seething and pointing to the letter on the table.

He held up his sandwich. "Eating?"

She whipped the letter from his fingers. "Is nothing sacred to you? This
is none of your business."

His gaze met her pissed-off one. "Me at the Cut Loose wasn't any of your
damn business and that sure as hell didn't stop you from jumping in with
both feet and giving me grief."

She tossed her hair the way she always did when she

57

wanted to be right but wasn't. "Reading other people's mail is a federal
offense. I.. .1 should have you arrested."

He sat back in the chair and took another bite of sandwich, feeling
better now that he had food and BJ around to talk to. She settled him,
made him feel he could succeed no matter what.

"Before you call in the fed^," he said around a mouthful, "I have an
idea that might help us both." He nodded at the chair across from him.
"Besides, you're too tired to call the feds, and you probably don't even
know the number. Sit down."

She closed her eyes for a moment and her shoulders sagged in defeat.
"Why do I even bother with you?"

"My charismatic personality."!

Her eyes snapped open. "That! is definitely not it."

She parked herself in a chair aid rested her head between her hands,
elbows propped on the table, and looked at him as he said, "Here's the
way things stand. You can help me get my leg in shape, but you won't let
me pay."

He paused, waiting for her to bring up the counseling bit. When she
didn't, he asked, "You're not going to tell me I need to talk to someone?"

"What do you mean, Maclntire?"

"I've been thinking about this. We both have something that the other
needs. What if we barter?" He moved his sandwich her way. "I do
something for you-you do something for me."

She yawned. "And what do you think you can do for me? Read the rest of
my mail? Sack my refrigerator again?"

"I have a better idea."

58

"I'm breathless with anticipation. Whatever can it be?" "Barbara Jean
Fairmont, I'm going to marry you."

"Sure you are. That's the craziest thing you've ever said." BJ quirked
her left eyebrow, She didn't have enough energy to quirk the right side,
too. "You must have a concussion. You're delusional. How many fingers am
I holding up?"

"None. They're on the side of your face. You help me get the use of my
leg back and get fit for the army. I marry you and that ups your chances
to adopt the baby you want. At least, that's what I got from the letter
I just read. The fact that you're single is not helping your cause."

"Marriage? Me? You?" She hung her head and laughed. "Just when I thought
this day couldn't get any crazier, Flynn Maclntire proposes marriage.

"In case your long-term memory's taken a hit, I should remind you that
we can't even be in the same room without all hell breaking loose."

A slow smile fell across his mouth. "There was a time, long ago, when we
were in a room together, a car together, the woods together, and got
along real well."

Her eyes met his. "Like you said, long ago."

"But it did happen." Both were quiet for a moment, as if they were
caught in a time warp, remembering the good times. And they were both
aware just how good, how fresh, how exciting they were. He swallowed,
then continued, "But this isn't a real marriage. It's a paper one. A
formality. No one even has to know we're hitched except the adoption
agency. I'll be around for

59

a while for interviews and I can scrounge up some letters of
recommendation from my army file."

"I'm glad you have that all figured out, but there is a child involved.
What do we tell him or her?"

"The absolute truth. You and I got married to give the kid a better
life. I'm gone a lot, but when I am home I'll acquaint myself with the
child. I can't raise one-hell, I have no idea how to do that-but I can
be there as a kind of safety net in case the kid needs something."

Flynn put down his sandwich and gave her a sincere look. "I've been all
over the world, BJ. I've seen more war orphans and abandoned kids than
you can imagine, living in abominable situations. If you can just save
one, just one, I'm all for it. After the adoption is final, we get a
divorce as easily as we got married. Sign some more papers and it's
over. You have a baby-he or she has a great life. We're saving a life.
That matters to me more than you can imagine."

Those words hit her hard. He'd seen so much death, and now there was a
chance to give life. She understood that more than most. It was
something they shared. Who would have thought all those years ago that
they'd be having this conversation now and connecting over something
like this. "But it doesn't seem very honest."

"Keeping a child in an overcrowded, understaffed orphanage where he
doesn't even see the sun shine, when he could be with you in Whistlers
Bend, is infinitely worse. We go into Billings tomorrow, get the license
and have some judge in a little town on the way back marry us."

She massaged her temples. "Flynn, this is all very

60

A Fabulous Husband

noble of you, but the bottom line is you don't need me to get better.
You can go back to Walter Reed. They have the best doctors, the best
staff, the best of everything. I'm a small-town doctor without a lot of
the facilities that could help you."

"You're a fine doctor-ask anyone around here. Besides, I can't do the
hospital thing again." He swallowed. "No more."

And she knew better than to push him this time. He'd had enough and
should do things his own way, just as she did things her way. How could
two people be so alike and yet so different?

"When I couldn't help Scully on that roof I decided I had to do
something. It was a wake-up call to get my ass in gear. I can't change
what happened to the guys who were with me on that convoy, but I can
change me, or at least try. I can be of service again. If I sit back and
do nothing the enemy wins. That's what they're counting on."

She held out her hands, palms up. "I can't guarantee your leg will be
good as new, Flynn. I have some techniques and can confer with other
doctors and get their opinions, but-"

"And maybe something else will come up and you still won't be able to
adopt," he said. "The one thing I know for damn sure is nothing's for
damn sure. I bet you have a current blood test. There's no waiting
period to marry in Montana. Is it a deal? You can't change that you're
forty and you can't change that you're a doctor, but two parents instead
of a single mom would help improve your chances for adoption a lot."

61

61

"And maybe you'll get better and get back to the army." Wasn't this the
original plan-to get Flynn out of her life? Now the plan just had a
glitch. Marriage. Some glitch!

He held out his hand to shake hers.

She studied it and said, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Everybody wins, BJ. No downside."

She nodded and shook his hand firmly. Her heart speeded up. "Tomorrow
we're getting married."

He smiled at her, the same kind of smile he used to give her over twenty
years ago that made her dizzy and weak. It had the same effect now. She
let go of his hand. "We are. We should get some sleep."

He stood and she said, "I left a pillow and sheets on the sofa."

She eyed his sandwich, piled with all kinds of really delicious stuff.
Suddenly, she was starved. Wasn't there something about joint ownership
in a marriage? He started to bite into the rest of his sandwich, she
grabbed it right out of his fingers and took a bite. She closed her
eyes. "Oh, this is really incredible, Maclntire."

"Yeah, and it was mine."

"Was," she said, her mouth stuffed. She wiped her mouth on her shirttail
and his eyes widened.

"Does your mother know you do that?"

"Husbands can't snitch on their wives. It's against the law. I'm too
tired to get a napkin." She devoured the sandwich in five bites. "That
was good. That was really, really good." She burped.

He stared and blinked to make sure he hadn't imag-

62

A Fabulous Husband

ined what had just happened. "I've never seen anyone eat so fast in my
life."

"You weren't a resident on eighteen-hour shifts. I should check your lip
and your eye."

"I'm eating-at least, I was-so my lip's fine. And I see you licking
mustard off your left thumb, so my eye must be okay, too."

She went to the sink and washed her hands, then came back to him and
pointed to the chair. "Sit."

"Anyone ever tell you your bedside manner sucks?"

"After midnight I have no manners. It's the real me. Deal."

He did as she directed, and she placed her hands on his cheeks and
angled his face up toward hers. Big mistake. The warmth of his skin
against her palms set her totally on fire.

Usually, she had some willpower to ward off this sort of reaction to
Flynn, to keep herself in check. But it was late and she had no
willpower, especially with her touching him. That had never been the
case before. The intimate feel of his five-o'clock shadow on her fingers
and the firm set of his determined jaw.... So male, so virile. It had
been a while since she'd encountered virile. Whistlers Bend was not
match.com.

She took her hands away and pulled in a few deep breaths to get herself
under control. He asked, "Are you okay?"

"Peachy." He needed a shower, but there was no way she'd survive
thinking about Flynn Maclntire naked in her bathroom. "Look at the light."

She moved her hand over his eyes, watching the pu-

63

63

pils dilate. And then she was watching more of him- how his eyes were
clear and true, rimmed with black and lit with fire. She'd seen that
fire before, though they'd never acted on it. But now... Every fiber of
her body wanted to act. She mentally gave her head a shake to bring
herself back to the moment. "Any pain in your eye?"

"I'm fine."

Too bad she wasn't, and now she had to touch his lip. Holy cow. To be
attracted to Flynn from afar was one thing, but now she had to endure
physical contact of the mouth variety. And when she helped with his leg
there 'd be more physical contact. Lots more. The only salvation was
that the contact would be for short intervals, then he'd go back to his
house and she'd have a chance to gain control of herself before he
returned the next day.

She braced herself for touching him now. Felt his lip, warm and full and
smooth against her fingers. Remembered kissing him for the first time
and how she'd traced his lips with her fingers before she'd tasted them.
Oh, she wanted another taste now.

His breath fell gently over her hand. "You're fine."

He gazed at her. "Well, you're not. You look like you have a fever."

"The sandwich must have made me sick."

"I'm the king of sandwiches. If anything's wrong it's because you
gobbled it down like a truck driver and you're tired. Consider taking in
a partner. You're swamped here and could use a break, Fairmont."

She dropped her hands to his neck and applied a lit-

64

tie pressure. "Never tell the doc what to do after midnight. She tends
to get cranky."

How could she want to kiss him one minute and do him bodily harm the
next? Because he was Flynn Mac-Intire, that was why. "I don't need a
damn partner."

"Did you just say damn?"

Maybe she should wring his neck after all. "And I am not slowing down."
She turned her back to him and headed for the hallway. "See you in the
morning."

Flynn looked at his empty plate. She'd eaten the whole blasted sandwich,
hadn't left him one crumb. He'd had only three bites and there was no
more meat or cheese or bread. He opened the fridge and found an apple.
Hell of a replacement for Sandwich-by-Flynn. Tomorrow he'd restock her
food supply, maybe make the boys one of his special subs. He'd have to
watch what he put on it because of Petey's diabetes. Maybe ham and
cheese roll-ups would be okay.

He wandered into the waiting room and snapped the sheets she'd left for
him over the sofa, then lay down. The moon cast shadows on the floor and
ceiling as he thought about his almost wife. Why hadn't BJ married and
had kids? She loved kids, was attractive, though bossy as hell and
intimidating as an army tank. And she had that irritated look about her
when she got hacked off. But there was a vulnerability lurking below the
surface, just as there had been all those years ago. That hadn't changed
at all.

He closed his eyes, still thinking about Barbara Jean as he drifted off
to sleep, and slept till he heard, "Colonel? Wake up, Colonel." Someone
poked his ribs.

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65

It didn't sound like one of his men; besides, they knew better than to
poke the Bear. Flynn pried open his eyes and gazed into two big brown
eyes peering down at him.

Petey grinned. "I thought you died. You smell kinda dead. But I'm glad
you didn't. I don't like it when people die and leave me behind. It's
morning, Colonel. Why are you sleeping on Doc BJ's sofa? She told me to
come get you for breakfast."

Flynn pushed himself up and gazed around. He'd slept through the night,
the whole night. Something he hadn't done since he'd gotten stateside.
He ran his hand over his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain.
He felt grubby and obviously smelled worse. "Tell Doc BJ I'll catch up
with her later, that I'm heading back to my house."

"She's not going to like it," Petey said in a little singsong voice.
"She'll get that look."

Flynn smiled. "Yeah, I know that look. How are you doing this morning?
How are you feeling?" he asked.

Petey glanced around as if he didn't know what Flynn meant. "I'm okay."
He bit his bottom lip, then asked very politely, "And how are you
feeling today, Colonel Maclntire?"

"I'm fine, Petey."

The little boy grinned again. "Doc BJ said that's manners, how you're
supposed to talk to older people in civilized society." He scrunched up
his little-boy face. "What's civilized society?"

Flynn felt a sense of pure delight in such innocence, followed by a
twinge of panic. He couldn't think of a

66

A Fabulous Husband

good definition of civilized society for a five-year-old. Hell, he
couldn't think of a good definition for a forty-year-old. "It's when
people treat one another kindly and use nice words so everybody gets along."

Petey nodded. "I think I like civilized society." He assumed a grown-up
posture and held out his hand for Flynn to shake. "It's been nice
talking to you today, Colonel Maclntire. I'll tell Doc BJ you're not
staying for breakfast and not to get her panties in a twist." He
shrugged. "That's what Deputy Roy always says about people if they're mad."

Flynn watched Petey skip his way back down the hall. The twisted-panties
crack probably set civilized society back a century or two, but what a
kid! Petey could charm the stripes off a sergeant and not even realize
he was doing it, just as he didn't realize his diabetes was a problem.
He dealt with it every day and went on. Flynn Maclntire could learn
coping skills from a five-year-old.

Flynn folded the sheet, then put them and the pillow in the corner. He'd
grab a shower and dress and be back here within the hour, then he and
Barbara Jean Fairmont could get going to Billings.

And he made it back to her house with minutes to spare, thankful Grandma
Mac was at her tae kwon do class or she'd hammer him with questions
about getting dressed up in the middle of the day. Homey noises came
from the kitchen and he headed there. He caught a glimpse of BJ in a
pale pink suit as she darted by the entrance, and he paused in the
doorway, taking her in. Her hair was braided around the back of her head
in a

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sophisticated fashion, she wore pearl earrings and necklace, and her
makeup was perfect. She was stunning, captivating. She knocked the
breath right out of his lungs, making him glad he could lean against the
door-jamb. He'd seen her lovely like this before, at the junior prom.
She'd worn pink then, too. Flowers in her hair. So beautiful... like now.

"Nice-" He was about to s&y wedding duds, then saw Petey and Drew
sitting on bar stools at the counter by the open kitchen window. Flynn
grinned. "Hi, guys."

B J handed Petey a black bag and ignored Flynn. She seemed nervous. He'd
never seen BJ Fairmont that way. She was always in control.

"Here's your insulin. Be sure you tell Aunt Katie to put it in the
fridge and to test y<nir blood sugar before lunch, since I won't be
around to do it today. Remind her this is important. I already talked to
her once on the phone, but tell her again. She's not working, but in
case she gets called in tell the babysitter to check you. If you have
any problems call Flo. Her number's in the case."

Drew looked from BJ to Flyim. "Are you two going somewhere? You're all
dressed up."

Flynn nodded. "I have a friend in Billings I want BJ to meet.
It's...business."

Drew's eyes narrowed. "Doc BJ never goes anywhere. She has to be here to
take care of the town. That's why she has all those roses. It's her
hobby while she's waiting around for people to get sick. Why would she
go with you on business to Billings?"

"It's adult business that needs to be attended to today," BJ said in her
doctor voice, which made what

68

she said gospel. "And don't worry about me. Just remember to watch out
for Petey." She kissed Petey on the top of the head, then Drew. "I'll be
back by dinnertime to check your insulin then, Petey."

Drew nodded, looking again from Flynn to BJ. He said, "You guys are up
to something." Then he took his brother's hand and walked down the hall,
and they left out the double glass doors.

Flynn waited a beat to make sure the kids weren't coming back. "Damn,
that was close." He sat on the bar stool by the window where Drew sat
earlier. BJ scurried about, straightening the kitchen. "I almost called
your suit wedding duds. If Grandma Mac got wind of this wedding... Well,
to her a marriage is a marriage. She'd never understand it was just on
paper."

BJ put the milk in the fridge. "My mother would have a conniption."

"I'm that bad a choice, huh?"

"It's not you. It's the elopement that would frost her cookies.
Something like that out of the blue would not be acceptable, and I'd
hear about it at every opportunity for the rest of my natural life. You
weren't around the last time I almost got married. Fourteen bridesmaids,
a carriage, doves, fifty yards of chiffon." She shuddered. "Looked like
the circus had come to town. Mother loves the pizzazz."

"And you don't?"

She faced him. "My idea of pizzazz is banaaas on my cereal."

Flynn came to her and cupped her shoulders in his palms. "You sure you
still want to do this? You seem a little uptight, Doc."

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She grinned, more relaxed now. A devilish grin, something he'd never
seen on the straitlaced town doc. "Last night I maxed out my credit card
online at Babies R Us, Mother and Infant, Gymboree and Little Tots."

He could only imagine what dollar amount that was for one of the
wealthiest women in town. "Don't you think you're jumping the gun a little?"

Her big green eyes darkened a shade. "I always thought that I'd marry,
and then I didn't and my practice consumed my life. Suddenly, I'm forty,
and I want a baby more than ever. Giving a baby in a third-world country
a good home really appeals to me, Flynn. I can't wait."

Flynn nodded. "Then let's get going before something happens and all our
plans get shot to hell."

Late-afternoon shadows stretched across BJ's garden as she walked up the
path. She was exhausted. Getting married to Flynn Maclntire would
exhaust anyone. Not just the drive, but they'd argued politics, art,
books and everything else all the way to and from Billings. How could he
be a Republican? Dear Lord, she 'd actually married a Republican! And
how could he not like Picasso and like Salvador Dali? She opened the
side door-had she forgotten to lock it? Entered and came face-to-face
with Maggie and Dixie standing in the hallway.

She glanced from one to the other, neither looking thrilled to see her.
"What are you two doing here?"

"How could you?" Maggie seethed, her eyes little slits, her face flushed.

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"How could I what?"

The phone rang and Dixie said as she jabbed her finger at it, "It's your
mother. She's called every ten minutes for the past six hours. Grandma
Mac's in a state. I think she's going to take Flynn out and shoot him dead."

"What are you two talking about?" BJ asked in a lighthearted tone,
though prickles of panic danced along her spine. "Is there a problem?"

"Problem? Problem!" Dixie pursed her lips, tapped her foot and pointed
to BJ's suit. "That's an understatement. How could you go and marry
Flynn Maclntire and not tell us?"

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BJ nibbled her bottom lip and glanced from Maggie's furious face to
Dixie's. How'd the best-kept secret in town leak out? Because it wasn 't
the best-kept secret! "It's not what you think. There's an explanation."

Dixie pointed at B J with her index finger. "Only one thing matters-are
you married to Flynn Maclntire or are you not?

"But-"

"Are you?"

She brushed Dixie's accusing finger away. "Yes, but it's not because we
love each other. It's-"

"Lust!" Dixie's eyebrows shot so far up her forehead they disappeared
into her hair. "I knew it when you came out of that saloon that
something was up between you two. I told you sex should be involved, and
then it was and you didn't even tell me. Some friend."

'This is one of those marriages built on sex?" Maggie added. "At forty?
Who would have thought. Guess there are worse reasons to marry, and
you're a woman with needs. Though you never mentioned any needs to me."

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"/ do not have needs! Well, I do, but not with Flynn Maclntire."

Maggie winked. "He's a handsome man, and if you come up with a way to
keep from killing each other, the sex should be good. But why not tell
Dixie and me?"

BJ threw her hands in the air. "The marriage is not over lust. It's over
a baby."

Maggie's eyes widened. "Flynn Maclntire's going to be the father of your
baby?"

"Well, sort of. That's one way of looking at it, but-"

"You didn't tell us about that, either! That's worse than the lust
explanation."

"Will you just forget lust? It has nothing at all to do with this
marriage. It's because of the baby, and it happened fast and-"

"You're already pregnant?"

"Ohforgodssake. I'm not pregnant!"

Maggie's eyes rounded to the size of cotton balls and Dixie said, "We
didn't know you two were seeing each other, and now there's a baby on
the way."

"But-"

"No buts."

"Listen to me!" BJ glared at Dixie, then Maggie and hissed, "This
marriage is because I want to adopt, and marrying Flynn will expedite
the matter. The one thing in life we agree on is there are children who
deserve a good home. That's all there is to it. A paper marriage for an
adoption. Done, finished, end of irate conversation. Go home."

Maggie hissed back, "The bottom line is you've been seeing Flynn
Maclntire behind our backs, didn't tell us

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diddly and then ran off and got married without so much as a phone call
to either of us to tell us what you were up to or to include us in your
plans. You do realize what a big deal a marriage is around here. This
isn't Vegas!"

"Yes, I do know, and that's precisely why we told no one. Everyone would
turn it into something more than it is, and it's not the town's or your
business!"

Oh, heck! Of all the things to say, that wasn't it. Telling best friends
your business wasn't theirs was heresy. Amazing the trouble you would
get into when you were tired to the bone and you had a big mouth.

Dixie's jaw dropped in astonishment. "Well," she huffed, "if that's the
way you feel."

"I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."

"Yes, it is." She snagged Maggie by the sleeve and pulled her toward the
door. "How could you do this after all we've been through together, BJ?
We fished you out of the lake when you almost drowned. We taught you how
to dance... well, we tried. We've done everything together, but now..."

"Can't you cut me some slack here?"

"No!" they said together. Dixie yanked open the door, and Flynn stood on
the other side.

"You!" Dixie said on a gasp. "How could you marry BJ and not tell your
family. Your brothers and Grandma Mac are in a frenzy."

Flynn stroked his chin. "I know. Boy, do I know!"

Dixie shook her finger. "And they have every right to be mad as hell,
because we are, too."

She pulled herself up to all five foot three inches of

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outrage. "In fact, I'm not sure when any of us will speak to either of
you again." She glared at Flynn. "See if I ever save you the last piece
of lemon meringue pie. I'd feed it to stray cats first."

She raised her chin even higher, stepped around Flynn and exited onto
the sidewalk. The last rays of sunlight fell across the garden as Dixie
and Maggie marched down the path. On a normal day this was BJ's favorite
time, peaceful, content, contemplative. Well, not tonight, Skippy!

She looked at Flynn. "What the heck are you doing here? The two of us
together have stirred up enough pandemonium. We need a break-about ten
years' worth."

He let out a sigh and leaned against the doorjamb. "Grandma Mac threw me
out."

BJ felt her mouth gape. She quickly shut it. "We've been back ten
minutes. What did you do now?"

"What do you think? I married you! Me living anyplace other than with
you is out of the question, at least as far as Grandma Mac and Scully
and Kean are concerned. They're sure my soul's condemned to hell for all
eternity already because I was off and married without family present.
Still, a marriage took place, and she's not about to let me forget it.
According to the lecture I just got, my place is with you."

Oh, no! Not this! BJ's stomach rolled. She hadn't planned on Flynn's
being in the same town. Now the same address? No way! "But I don't want
you."

His left eye twitched. "You really believe I want you?" He stroked his
jaw, dark with the need for a

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shave. "But we are married. You've got me-I've got you. Package deal. If
I tried to bunk in with someone else, my dear old grandmother would haul
my sorry ass back here. I'm too tired to deal with ass hauling."

"Didn't you explain why we did this?"

He gave a dismissive shrug. "And I had about as much success as you
apparently did explaining this marriage to Dixie and Maggie."

He raked his hairless head with his fingers, suddenly seemed as tired as
she felt. "Hell, Fairmont! How'd this happen? Did you tell anyone?"

"Of course not. Did you?"

"Why would I? But someone found out someway. How did such a simple idea
turn into a mess like this? It's just a marriage of convenience. Why
don't any of them get that?"

"On some level they do-at least, Dixie and Maggie. But they're honked
off I didn't keep them in the loop. Your family is another matter. A
marriage is sacred especially as far as Grandma Mac's concerned. It's
not something to be entered into lightly."

BJ leaned against the other side of the doorjamb and took him in. The
fading sun bathed him in a golden glow. His mussed dress shirt was open
at the throat, his tie loose around his neck. Too handsome, too male,
too close. And about to get a whole lot closer!

Usually, she saw Flynn in the distance, which made it easier to get over
her attraction, because when they weren't together or even in eyesight
of each other, she could remind herself the attraction was stupid, dumb,
idiotic.

But this hadn't been a short day. There'd been no

76

time to remember that the attraction made no sense. She took in his fine
build and the attraction made all kinds of sense. She needed to get over
it. "So, now what do we do?"

"There's a choice?"

She didn't like the sound of that, and he gave her a "don't be
thickheaded" look. "I live with you till we get this adoption thing
through or I get back in the army, whichever comes first."

She stood straight and held out her hands as if warding off the devil
himself. "No way. I hate arguing and yelling and fighting. Most of the
time that's all we do."

"We're going to be roomies, Dr. Fairmont. Get used to it."

"We'll kill each other."

"We didn't always want to do that." And they both knew exactly what that
meant. They'd had good times together, fun times, romantic times.. .once
upon a time.

"I'm talking about today. I almost threw you out of the car on more than
one occasion, and I thought, when the car slowed down, you wanted to do
the same to me. Now you want to live together? Are you crazy?"

"We'll have to get along. Then we'll divorce, the way we planned. The
only thing's that's changed is where we live. It's probably a blessing-"

"Wanna bet?"

"The adoption agency might smell a rat if they checked up on us and we
weren 't living together."

BJ closed her eyes for a second. How could she get out of this one?
"There has to be some other way, right?"

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11

"Are you going to throw me into the street? Bad omen for a new marriage."

"Okay, there isn't a way out." She'd survive living with him by
remembering all the reasons she disliked him so intensely. By thinking
of what they disagreed on.. .which wouldn't be a problem, because it
happened to be everything. Whenever he opened his big mouth it would
distract her from any and all attraction she had for Flynn Maclntire.
She smiled.

"You're okay with this?"

"I'm getting there. Collect your things and I'll check the guest room.
Tomorrow we get started on a regimen for your leg."

"To get me back into the army?"

"We're both motivated. In fact, the longer we live together I bet the
more motivated we'll get, and you'll be back with your brigade or unit
or whatever in no time."

He nodded. "It's a plan." He turned to leave, and came face-to-face with-

"Mother?" BJ felt her head start to spin. Could this day get any worse?

Her mother stood tall and gazed from one to the other. "I'm certain you
two have many plans. Sharing some of them with the rest of us would have
been considerate."

Margaret Fairmont, her auburn hair fashionably streaked and styled in a
short sophisticated bob that set off her green eyes, her chestnut Gucci
bag matching her shoes, her silk cream blouse and tan slacks completing
the ensemble, was perfectly furious.

"Barbara Jean, how could you do this to me?"

"Mother, this isn't personal. We didn't tell anyone

78

because it's not a real marriage, and we didn't want to give anyone the
impression it was."

"You stood in front of an official and swore to take each other for
life. You are both rational, intelligent adults, so this is indeed a
marriage." She glared at Flynn, her eyes lit with fire "And how could
you do this to Grandma Mac? A truly wonderful lady. I expected better
from you."

Flynn straightened, looking very dignified, a man in charge. "Mrs.
Fairmont, I assure you I meant no disrespect to you or my grandmother.
And don't fault BJ. This was my idea and-"

"And I agreed," BJ added as she stood beside him. Flynn was not taking
the fall for this. "I want to adopt, Mother. I want to give a child a
good loving home, and Flynn's agreed to marry me to make that possible.
He did it for me."

"And BJ's helping me with my leg."

Margaret glanced from one to the other, some of the fire leaving her
eyes. "Well, there are many reasons for marriage, and you seem to have
found yours. I've arranged for a reception at the country club the day
after tomorrow to give this marriage an air of propriety. You will both
be there for your families. If you do intend to adopt, then the child
should be given the benefit of two responsible parents."

She turned on her heel and walked down the garden path. BJ turned to
Flynn, "Well, Flynn Maclntire, welcome to the family."

Taking his life in his hands, Flynn kissed Grandma Mac on the cheek,
grabbed his two duffels and closed

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the door to the Maclntire house behind him. Holy hell! He'd left many
times before-usually, when his leave had ended, and he was heading back
to some war zone or battle thousands of miles away. This time his house
constituted the war zone and Grandma Mac had won the battle. Living with
his new wife was not an option, no matter how many times he tried to
explain the situation.

He threw his stuff into the back seat of the rental car and drove the
two blocks over to BJ's. He parked on the street, the last rays of
sunlight fading behind the moun-taintops, the streetlights winking on.
He stared at the gambrel-roofed house. The lamppost by the garden
entrance illuminated the Dr. Barbara Jean Fairmont plaque and the
walkway in case someone needed help at night. Lamps glowed in the open
upstairs windows, curtains ruffling in the evening breeze. His new
address...at least, for a while.

He slung one duffel over his shoulder, snatched the other in his left
hand and his cane in the right. He made his way up the walk to the back
door, opened it and went inside.

BJ came down the hallway from the kitchen. "Where have you been? I
thought maybe you changed your mind."

"My mind has nothing to do with this. Grandma Mac saw fit to remind me
again of her displeasure over our elopement and her exclusion. Guess we
can't avoid that reception at the country club."

"And live? My mother? Your grandmother? Dixie and Maggie? If we tick
them off anymore they'll stake us out for the vultures."

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She'd changed into soft jeans and a yellow sweatshirt. Her hair was
pulled back, gathered at her neck with a matching ribbon. Everything
about her was perfectly pressed and fitted, except her shoes. BJ
Fairmont barefoot? The millionth surprise of the day. "I never thought
I'd be moving into some woman's house."

"I'm not some woman. I'm your..."

"Wife? Couldn't get it out? I know what you mean." He took in the quiet
house. "I should be at the Cut Loose, swilling beer and dragging on
cigarettes."

"Be my guest, but don't even think about smoking in here. Outside, in
the far corner, maybe by the compost pile is okay, I suppose, unless the
wind blows this way. Ever consider giving up smoking?"

"I'll smoke in the garden. Your roses won't drop off the stem." Fatigue
suddenly settled over him like a torrential downpour. He needed sleep
and BJ had mentioned a guest room. "We'll deal with all this tomorrow.
Where do I bunk in for night?"

"The bunk's upstairs, first door on the left. The bath's across the
hall. Pick up after yourself. Ms. Eversole cleans on Tuesdays and
Fridays and sometimes stops in to tidy up on other days."

"You have a cleaning lady? How sweet the rich life."

BJ gritted her teeth. "Ms. Eversole cleans the office every day. She
needs the money and charity is out of the question. So, yes, I have a
cleaning lady. Which means now we have a cleaning lady, which means this
place stays neat so she doesn't have to work so hard."

"You clean for the cleaning lady?"

BJ eyed his duffels. "Are you going to get the rest

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of your stuff, or stand here giving me advice on hearth and home?"

He toed his things. "This is it, Doc. The rest of my stuff."

She peered closer. "My shoes wouldn't fit in there." She nodded at the
stairs. "I'll be up later. I have things to take care of for tomorrow's
patients. If you need something there's an intercom on the hall wall, so
you can reach me without yelling. Don't yell. I hate yelling."

He started to leave, then turned back. "Weren't you supposed to check on
the boys tonight?"

"Here and gone. They don't know what to make of this marriage thing."

"They have a lot of company on that one, Doc." Flynn climbed the steps
to the top and went left, entering...?/^ garden of eternal slumber?
Flowers everywhere! Blue ones on the wallpaper, yellow on bedspread,
both woven into the carpet. The room even smelled like flowers. Flowers
were fine, but...this?

He turned back into the hall and yelled from the top of the stairs, "BJ!"

She appeared at the bottom and raised both eyebrows while pursing her
lips. "Intercom?"

"What am I supposed to do with that bedroom?"

"Sleep in it?" She put her hands to her hips. "I realize it's a little
girlie, but trucks and cars and things that go and shoot and explode
don't do it for me." Her mouth twisted with amusement. "My other guests
have never complained. In fact, they love it.]'

"And how many of those other guests have been guys?"

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She folded her arms. "Is that any of your business?"

He considered the question a minute. It wasn't his business, but for
some reason he wondered. He gazed at her softness and her golden hair.
His insides stirred, and he suddenly wondered a lot. "We are married.
Maybe you should tell me."

"Eat dirt and die, Maclntire." She gave him a superior smirk. "Like
you're going to tell me about all your female exploits?"

"Point taken."

"There's a small library across the hall and a living room at the end,
but it has two love seats, not large enough to sleep on, especially you
and your ego. You can use the couch in the waiting room again if that
suits you, or the floor. You'll figure it out."

She left and he crossed the hall to the library. Books, antique desk,
everything neat and orderly, but no place to sleep. He headed for the
living room, passing BJ's room. He recognized it in an instant. Not just
because of more flowers and its being the only bedroom left, but because
of the worn oak rolltop desk he knew had been her father's. Flynn
remembered going to Dr. Benjamin Fairmont when he was a kid. The man had
died of cancer about twelve years ago. Rotten shame. Nice guy, terrific
doctor, everyone thought so, especially his daughter.

A brass lamp illuminated pictures that covered the entire wall over the
desk. Some were in frames; others were pinned to a corkboard. New
pictures, old ones and everything in between.

He took down a photo of Grandma Mac, another of

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his parents at his dad's retirement party, one of his grandfather, who'd
been gone almost twenty years now.

"Do you always go through a woman's things?" BJ said as she came in.

"Only when I'm married."

"Keep this up and I'll be a widow."

He held out the picture of his grandfather. "A lot of these are from
your dad."

BJ picked up the old photo and smiled as she looked at it. "Before good
roads and airlifts. Dad was a one-man band around here." She put the
picture back on the board. "When you bring someone into the world and
care for them the rest of their life they're family." She nodded at the
collection. "Guess they're part of my family, too."

She hitched her chin toward the doorway. "I put solid-green sheets on
your bed and a brown magic marker on the nightstand. You can color them
camouflage and sleep like a baby. And right now you can leave, because
I'm going to bed. This day has been way too long already."

He picked up the photo of Snooky, Trixie and the twins that sat on the
desk. "More family?"

A faraway expression came into her eyes as she absently ran her finger
over the glossy picture. Fear swept over her face, but it left as fast
as it had come. No one would have noticed unless they'd experienced that
same feeling, and he'd been there more times than he wanted to think
about. To have BJ experience it, too, jolted him. "What happened?"

She put the picture back on her desk and her eyes met

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his through the dim light. She started to deny that anything had
happened at all, then seemed to know he'd never buy it. She let out a
deep breath. "I could have lost them. One baby breech, Trixie in a lot
of pain. It was raining like the devil, so air care was out of the
question."

"What... what if you'd...?"

"If I'd lost them?" She closed her eyes for a second, massaged her
forehead, then looked back to him. "What do you do?"

"I wish the hell I knew, Fairmont. God, I wish I knew." He felt the
words come from somewhere deep inside.

"I'll tell you what my dad told me. Life isn't fair. All we can do is
try to even the odds." She kissed him on the cheek, then she left, her
bare feet barely audible on the hallway carpet, the old steps creaking
as she started downstairs.

He followed her out into the hall. "What the hell's that supposed to
mean, Fairmont?" he yelled over the banister, his voice echoing off the
walls.

"That's for you to figure out."

"Thought doctors were so damn smart and had all the answers."

She stopped at the bottom and gazed. "If I was so damn smart and had all
the answers, Maclntire, you wouldn't be sleeping in my guest room." She
gave him a cheeky grin and faded from view.

"Well, big fat whooping hell," he said into the empty hallway. He'd been
looking for some insightful revelation and all he'd gotten was double talk.

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85

He tramped back to the guest room, grabbed his personal things from his
duffel, then went into the frilly bathroom with lacy shower curtain and
little jars of cream and shampoo and other bottles of goo on the
counter. "Why does anyone need all this crap?"

He showered and wrapped himself in a towel he took off the bar. Not
wrap, exactly, more like the fig-leaf approach. He caught his reflection
in the big mirror over the sink. He'd bathed in strange places,
makeshift showers in the field, a waterfall once, even deserted houses
that had been abandoned in war. But never had he had a pink rose-print
towel draped over his... How'd he get into this?

He crossed the hall to his room. Keeping the light off, he exchanged the
towel for skivvies, peeled back the comforter and fell into bed, sinking
into the pillow-top mattress. Holy cow, he'd died and gone to heaven, he
was sure of it. His first aversion to the flowers had been more a
reaction to the day and getting tossed out of his house than anything else.

He liked flowers. This was a little overkill, but so what. Right now he
could sleep anywhere-at least, for a while, unless the damn dreams started.

He closed his eyes and drifted off, feeling the fatigue fade-until
something woke him. A ringing phone somewhere far off? A voice? Someone
moving around fast.

Trouble!

His eyes flew open, adjusting to the moonlight and zeroing in on a door
across the room. Where'd he put his rifle? He jumped up and made for the
door, yanked

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it open and collided full force with a woman, distress in her eyes. He
shoved her behind him against the wall, protecting her, searching for
the trouble.

"Flynn," She coughed and gasped his name. "You're squashing me."

Slowly, he turned and looked down at the woman. He did a double take.
"Fairmont?"

Her eyes were wide as she asked, "What are you doing?"

He had no idea. Where the hell was he? He glanced around. Not a bunker
or a truck or jeep or a hovel? No gunfire or explosions going off. BJ's
house? Yeah, BJ's house! And he was married to her. Instantly, he felt
wide-awake and aware of her body brushing against his nearly naked one
as he stood in front of her. His heartbeat doubled. She was soft, sweet,
oh, so feminine. "For a minute I thought I was..."

"Back on some front?" Her breasts rose and fell under her yellow
sweatshirt. Small breasts, no bra. Somehow he knew. Her quick breaths
streamed across his chin and neck and the temperature in the hallway
seemed unbearable. She grabbed his upper arms, bringing them closer
still, the contact of her skin to his like sticking his finger in ah outlet.

"I have to go out. There's an emergency. You don't look so great. Are
you going to be okay?"

He seriously doubted it. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, take care of yourself. Get something to eat. There's apple juice
in the fridge."

"I'm fine." If suddenly being as horny as an army marching band could be
considered fine.

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How'd he get like this so fast? And why in the world did he feel that
way over BJ Fairmont? Then he studied her blond hair, hanging straight
to her narrow shoulders, her bright green eyes staring up at him, the
dusting of freckles not hidden under makeup and her unique special scent
of flowers and all things feminine, which filled his head.

This woman standing in front of him, so close he could count her
eyelashes-her very long eyelashes, which framed her lovely eyes-would
make a marble statue horny. "What's the emergency?"

"Ms. Millie. She might be having a stroke. Her son's with her now." She
pushed at his chest, her small hands wairm against his skin, turning him
on even more. Her eyes dilated and she gasped. She snapped her hands
back as if she'd been shocked. "Can you move, because I'm sure there's
no way I can get you to do that unless you want to move, and I have to
get going right now."

He gazed into her eyes, realizing her reaction had nothing to do with
Ms. Millie and being a doctor and a lot to do with him nearly naked, her
hands on him and the two of them so close right there in her hallway
that their breaths seemed as one. She bit her bottom lip. His stomach
flipped and tightened. He stepped back, but she didn' t move. She
deserved every inch of him and a flash of desire lit her eyes, igniting
his insides.

"Oh, Flynn." She breathed the words more than said them. "You are
so...damn hot." Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him
hard, her lips sexy and seductive and surprising the living hell out of him.

He started to take her in his arms, but she pulled

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away, her face flushed, her eyes glazed, her breaths fast and erratic.
"Why did I do that?" She ran down the hall as if the devil himself gave
chase.

He watched for a moment, mesmerized by the feel of her sweet lips on
his. Then he followed, needing to be with her. "Why did you do that?"

He'd never asked a woman why she'd kissed him before, but this was
different. This was Barbara Jean Fairmont, the last woman on earth he'd
expected to kiss him now. And he liked it a lot.

"Where are you going?" she called over her shoulder as she snagged her
black medical bag, which sat at the back door. She sounded frazzled. "Go
back to sleep." She stopped and faced him. "Think of this as a dream,
Flynn, or a really stupid thing on my part."

"I want to-" to take you in my arms and kiss you back, he thought but
continued with "-do something to you." He closed his eyes for a moment,
getting a grip. "I mean for you, not to you."

"You need sleep. I need sleep. / think I need therapy! Forget I kissed you."

She yanked open the door and went out into the cool night. He stood in
the entrance, the air chilling his hot body as he watched her hurry down
the path toward the gate, his heartbeat keeping time with the sound of
her footfalls on the brick.

He continued to stare into the dark as she passed through the gate and
rounded the house, heading for Ms. Millie's. He could still feel BJ's
small hands on his bare arms, her breasts grazing his chest as she
straightened against him, then her lips searing his. His insides hard-

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ened to stone and his erection pressed against his underwear. He felt
like a damn high-school kid right smack in the middle of adolescence,
not able to control himself after one quick kiss. Except it was a hell
of a kiss.

He stepped back inside and closed the door with a thud. No need to
advertise his condition to the whole world. Even at 0300 hours someone
might be awake. Hell, he was. Every part of him.

All because of BJ and that one little kiss? He pictured her hair
streaming out behind her, catching the moonlight. Yeah, over BJ! And
thinking about her and kissing her beat the hell out of the war scenes
that usually kept him from sleeping.

He headed back upstairs. What now? Now nothing. The simple kiss had
resulted from his being nearly naked and the two of them standing close
after an exhausting day. They disliked everything about each other. Then
he considered her lips, her sweet body, her great eyes. Well, not
everything. His present condition was an overreaction from not reacting
in so long, like a parched man in a desert, gulping water.

He'd simply been in a desert. For damn sure he 'd been without.

But the water looked so fine and tasted like pure heaven.

Sex, women? Neither had interested him.. .till now. Somehow, BJ Fairmont
made him put aside the bad things in life and focus on the good.

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Morning rays slid into the kitchen as BJ shuffled her way to the sink.
She caught her reflection in the half-open window. Double makeup to hide
circles under her eyes hadn't worked and her hair felt bristled more
than combed. She resembled a two-legged raccoon on a drinking binge more
than a doctor.

She dumped coffee into the maker, then spotted the empty juice glass on
the counter. Oh, crap! Her eyes few wide-open. She had bigger problems
than needing a makeover. She 'd married Flynn Maclntire. And she 'd
kissed him.

The marriage had seemed like a good idea at the time. Even during the
simple ceremony, where they'd shaken hands. Then he'd moved in, run
nearly naked into her in the hallway and she'd kissed him full on the mouth.

Her hands shook; her mouth went dry. Not just because she'd kissed him,
but because she'd wanted more...like, tackle him to the floor, rip off
his underwear, what little there was, and have sex right there on

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the Oriental carpet. No doubt this was due to pent-up frustration from
years of imagining such a thing. But what would stop her from doing that
very thing in the future?

Deep personal mortification, that was what! Maybe.

"Do you always get this little sleep?" came Flynn's deep, rich voice
from the doorway. She turned slowly, praying he'd gotten just a little
ugly during the night. Had grown fangs or gills or webbed fingers and
feet. Something. But he hadn't. He looked better than ever, more rested,
freshly shaven, some tangy soap scent floating her way. Thank heavens
this time he had on clothes.

He walked in and leaned against the counter. "How is Ms. Millie?"

Ms Millie? Ms. Millie? Oh, yeah! Ms. Millie! "An attack of chronic
stable angina."

He gave her a questioning look, and she explained. "Tightness of the
chest and tingling brought on by physical or mental stress. She took one
of her nitroglycerin pills, and with some rest she'll be okay. The EMS
ran her into Billings for tests, just to make sure."

If BJ could get used to looking at Flynn from the neck up it might help.
She wouldn't think of his firm naked chest, notice his strong forearms
or the way his jeans fit just right. She thought of the fit and felt
weak. She concentrated on his face to forget the rest of him, then
remembered the kiss. There was no hope!

"Are you okay?"

Oh, Lord, no! "Tired. Coffee will help." She dumped in an extra measure
and hit the On button.

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Flynn pulled down two mugs from the cabinet and handed one to her, the
drip of the coffee and the bird-song floating through the window the
only sound. His eyes took her in, then darkened as they had last night.
Her insides tied in a knot as they had last night. He swallowed; she
sweated. Oh, hell! He said, "It was just a kiss, BJ. We've had kisses
before."

Not like that. There was no just about it, at least for her. But he sure
seemed to think so. "What kiss?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, that kiss. We were tired. I was tired. It happened and it won't
happen again. Hey, it's us. We have nothing to kiss about."

"We have a designated objective."

"Right, designated objective."

More coffee dripped. Think of something to say. "Have any idea how
everyone found out about our marriage?"

Talk was good. Kept her mind off the kiss and all the rest of Flynn
Maclntire.

He went to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. "You
probably told someone. One of those women things. You're getting married
and you want to tell your friends and talk about whatever women talk
about when they're together and then they swear not to tell and they
always do."

Well, there it was! Just when she needed it most, a big fat dose of
chauvinist reality to snap her out of this stupid state of ogling Flynn
Maclntire and his fine male attributes. All he had to do was open his
mouth, instantly reminding her why the two of them would never ever get
along.

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She gave him a go-to-hell look. "Did it appear to you that Dixie and
Maggie had any inkling at all that I was getting married?"

He shrugged dismissively. "They were hacked off you didn't include them
in the plans, or you could have let it slip somewhere else."

"Women are not like that-at least, not the ones I know. A secret's a
secret. You and I decided on this marriage idea late the night before,
then you picked me up and we went to Billings the very next morning. No
time to let anything slip. Though slipping a noose around your neck has
definite appeal for even suggesting I can't be trusted."

"It's not so much a trust thing as a woman thing."

"A woman thing ? " Her eyes bugged. "You don't get around women much, do
you?"

"Been around my share. I'm trying to figure this out." He poured juice
and gave her a glass. "Because it sure as hell caused us one boatload of
trouble, and it would be good if it didn't cause more."

"You probably have yourself to blame, so don't go accusing me."

He cut his eyes to her.

She glared back. "I didn't tell anyone, so that leaves you. Men like to
blab more than women. You went to the Cut Loose, had a few too many
beers and started shooting off your mouth, and that's how news of our
marriage got out."

"Not my style. Not any man's style if he's worth a damn."

"Or you told Scully or Kean and they let it out."

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"Since they wanted my head on a platter for not telling them, that
suggestion doesn't wash, either. I don't know how the hell the whole
blasted town found out."

"Well, one of us has a big mouth, Maclntire." She came over to him,
meeting him toe to toe. "And it ain't me, buster."

His face met hers. "Or me."

Petey and Drew suddenly appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed and afraid.

"Hi, guys," Flynn said with a smile. At least he smiled for someone.
"What's up?"

Drew held Petey's hand tight and glanced from Flynn to BJ. "Why are you
two arguing so much?"

BJ hunkered down in front of the brothers. "Flynn and I were having a
discussion. We just discuss very loud."

"No, you weren't," Drew said. "You were arguing real loud. When I was
little, Mommy and Daddy used to argue like that. I remember. And then
Daddy left and we never saw him again. We don't want you two to do that."

When he was little? BJ felt her heart constrict. Like, Drew was so old
now. BJ heard Flynn's footsteps as he approached. He bent down beside
her. "How did you hear us arguing? You just came inside now and the back
door is closed. And we didn't see you in the garden."

Drew shuffled his feet and Petey studied the ground.

"You were in your hideout, weren't you?" Flynn said. He pointed to the
window. "Where you can hear everything in the kitchen. You heard BJ and
me plan to get married."

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BJ glanced back to the window. "Hideout? What hideout."

Drew shrugged and said, "Yeah, we heard you talking in the kitchen
yesterday about getting married so Doc BJ can adopt a baby. We heard you
arguing now, too."

BJ took their hands, one in each of hers. "Did you go to Ms. Millie's
for pudding yesterday?"

All of a sudden, Petey grinned. "Yeah, Aunt Katie had to work and Ms.
Millie said she'd watch us for the afternoon. She made peanut-butter
pudding, the kind I can eat, and we told her about the wedding and she
got all excited and started calling people on the phone and telling them
the news."

He pressed his lips together and his big brown eyes rounded. "Did Drew
and me do something bad?"

"Not exactly bad, but listening to people talk when they can't see you
isn't very nice, especially if you tell others what you've heard."

Drew frowned. "Aunt Katie doesn't like it when Petey and me listen to
her and her boyfriend. She gets all mad and pissy."

BJ cringed. "How about upset instead of pissy? And at least you realize
it's not good to listen to other people's conversations. They might be
discussing private things only they should know about. Good manners
means you come into the room and tell people you're there and you
remember to use nice words."

"Are...are you real mad at us?" Drew asked in a quiet voice. "Aunt Katie
gets real mad and yells. Her boyfriend sends us to our room without TV
when he doesn't want us around."

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Where did this guy fit into Petey's and Drew's lives? She'd have a talk
with Aunt Katie. BJ held the boys' hands tighter so they'd know she
wasn't upset with them. They'd been through enough. "I have an idea.
When you and Petey are in your hideout under the window I want you to
tell me you're there. Can you do that for me?"

"What if we get a flag for your hideout," Flynn said. "Put it on a pole
you can reach. When you're there you put up the Stars and Stripes. I'll
show you how to fold it up neat and take care of it. You'll have a camp
more than a hideout. How's that?"

Drew grinned at Petey and said to Flynn, "Did you have a flag at your
hideout by the mine?"

"That pine tree with two trunks got in the way and we were trying to
keep it a secret."

Flynn Maclntire understood little boys perfectly. Women? Completely
clueless. "Go wash your hands. I'll check Petey's insulin, then make ham
and eggs for breakfast."

She watched them walk down the hallway and into the bathroom. She said
to Flynn. "Well, there's why Ms. Millie had her angina attack. Gossip
overload. And I owe you an apology." She held out her hand.

He gripped it, his eyes dark blue and sincere, and said, "Same here."

At least, that was what she thought he'd said. Every time he touched her
she wasn't sure what was going on. She let go of his hand and he picked
up his juice glass. He took a long drink, the glass seemed almost lost
in his grip. She stared, remembering those hands on her,

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holding her then shoving her behind him in protection, his body pressed
against hers, hot and firm and unyielding.

She'd felt so safe.. .squashed, but safe all the same. If aliens or some
enemy had suddenly taken over the earth, BJ Fairmont would have lived to
tell the tale because Colonel Flynn Maclntire would have seen to it.

Still.. .this being together was never going to work. Every hunky inch
of the man provided too much temptation. One day she'd get up and not
care diddly about Flynn the thickheaded, arrogant, know-it-all, macho
jerk she didn't like and throw herself at him, demanding feral sex on
the spot from the part of him she liked a lot!

She had to get rid of him before she humiliated herself beyond all reason.

"I'll get the breakfast together, you take care of Petey," he said.

"And after breakfast we'll start on exercises and therapy to strengthen
your leg. I'm sure you want to get back to the army. "

The question was-how to keep her hands off him till she got him there.

Flynn listened to the sounds of BJ cleaning up the kitchen after
breakfast as he sat at the kitchen table, studying the list of exercises
she'd made up for him. Petey and Drew had chores to do at their house,
then wanted to ride their bikes. Now he and BJ could get down to the
business of his leg. Unfortunately, the business he thought about when
he watched BJ Fairmont

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had nothing to do with his leg and everything to do with her hair, her
eyes and her soft skin.

Being attracted to BJ one minute and wanting to wring her neck the next
made no sense. And that kiss didn't help. It was high school, part two,
and it was worse!

He forced himself to study the paper instead of BJ. "This isn't therapy
you have outlined here-it's torture."

He slid the paper across the table. "And what's with this mineral-bath
stuff?"

She put the last plate in the dishwasher, then took a magnet and affixed
the list to the front of the fridge. "You could have stayed at Walter
Reed. They have the best of everything-doctors, whirlpools, physical
therapists. But did you? No. Since you're in Whistlers Bend, you get to
go to Cabin Springs and park your butt on a rock in the middle of the
hot stream."

She stopped with the dishes and slowly turned to him. Their eyes met,
and he knew she was remembering Cabin Springs, just as he was.

"We didn't do anything that night."

"But we wanted to."

"It would have been a mistake. We broke up a week later. We weren't ready."

Oh, but he was so ready now, every single inch of him. Damn, he wanted
her. But, again, it would be a mistake. Their lives didn't mesh any
better now than they had then.

She added soap to the dishwasher. "I called one of your doctors. If you
don't get some movement going in

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your leg you'll build up scar tissue and then you'll have a real problem."

He already had a real problem. A colossal problem. BJ! At the moment the
only movement he could think of involved her in his arms and had nothing
to do with therapy. "The short version of that conversation the two of
you had is nothing's going to work so forget it?"

She faced him. "And if you believe that, you're absolutely right. And if
you believe you'll get better, you're absolutely right."

"So now you're telling me I can think myself better? Where'd you go to
medical school?"

"Attitude counts. Medicine is not an exact science. Doctors just try to-"

"Even the odds. I get it."

"I doubt it, but that's up to you." She nodded toward the hallway. "We
need new X-rays."

"I've got enough of those tojpaper this kitchen. Use one of them." He
was not stripping buck naked, with some stupid gown as his only
covering, as long as BJ was around. He'd played out that scenario4ast
night and remembered what had happened, a kiss along with a case of
terminal horniness. He needed an excuse. "Are you any good at taking
X-rays and reading them?"

BJ parked her hands on her hips. "Flo's sixty-seven and knows more about
film than Martin Scorsese."

Flo! A harmless grandmother type would be okay. Best of all she wasn't
BJ. He turned for the hall, feeling more in control; besides, he wanted
to get on with therapy. He hadn't felt that way in a long time. Maybe
not ever. When he'd lost his men something in him had

100

died, too, and this last time had done him in.. .till now. Till BJ had
walked-make that barged-back into his life, and suddenly her spirit and
determination and focus on the living had made him feel alive, too.

The side door opened as he passed and Flo bustled in with the energy of
a woman half her age. '"Morning, Flynn, you old dog."

She gave him a mischievous wink and nudged him with her shoulder. "Can't
believe you landed BJ. You're not good enough for her. You realize that,
don't you? Better treat her real fine or this town will hang you upside
down by your privates."

She put her purse under her desk and called down the hall, "Howdy, BJ.
Everyone including me is spitting mad you didn't tell us about your
wedding plans. Bet you get an earful today from your patients."

Flynn rolled his eyes and BJ came down the hall. She didn't sound like a
harmless grandmother. She was a woman to deal with. "This is just a
marriage to help BJ adopt a baby. Agencies prefer married women."

"Sounds like an excuse to get next to BJ, if you ask me."

"Right." No reason to argue with someone who was about to see him nearly
naked. He felt a little too vulnerable. He made for the X-ray room to
change into his least favorite attire on earth. He closed the door,
ducked behind a screen, pulled off his jeans and put on the gown. A
draft chilled his bare ass; his front was no better. Between this and
that hanging comment of Flo's, his ability to perform may have slipped
back to its old unresponsive ways. At least, that was what he feared,
till he came around the curtain and faced... "BJ?"

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Blond, green eyes, beautiful even in a white lab coat. How could anyone
be sexy in one of those? But damn, she was. He glanced around quick.

His breathing almost stopped along with his heart. Unfortunately, not
all parts of his anatomy hit stop. More vital ones raced straight to go,
and his fears of not responding flew right out the window. "What are you
doing here?"

He ducked back behind the screen to hide his condition and craned his
neck around the side.

She peered at him as if he'd lost his mind. "It's my office. I run this
ship. Flo has to rearrange the schedule because we have an influx of
patients to see the doctor today. Which translated means-everyone wants
the scoop on our marriage, which really isn't a marriage, but no one
seems to get that and they want to talk about it anyway.

"What are you doing behind that screen?"

Hiding! "Have to help Scully and Kean."

She gave him a sassy look. "They're behind the screen? Must be kind of
crowded."

"They're at the lodge right now-I just remembered. I've got to go help."
He ducked his head back, yanked off the gown, draped it on the chair and
reached for his jeans. He'd leave his shirt untucked to hide any.. .bulging.

"This won't take long, Flynn," BJ countered. "We're not doing bypass
surgery. It's a leg X-ray. You have on a gown. I'll keep my eyes closed."

He pulled on his shirt. "There's a big shipment of stone being delivered
to the lodge. I forgot till right now."

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He walked around the curtain all dressed, carrying his boots in one hand
and his cane in the other to get out as fast as possible. "I don't have
the time to spare. Gotta go. Bye."

She followed him down the hallway. "How will you get back into the army
if you don't take time to get better? It won't happen without work.
Cooperate, okay?"

If he cooperated any more, he'd shock Doc BJ's pants off! That would be
okay by him, but he doubted she'd share his enthusiasm. And even if she
did, then what? Fight all day, have sex all night? As good as it
sounded, it was not his style, and for sure not BJ's.

"Be back later." He closed the door behind him and headed for his car,
slid in and put on his boots, then made for the lodge. The stone
shipment wasn't a lie, but it wasn't due till the afternoon and Scully
didn't need him for that. That was the trouble. No one needed him much
for anything. If he quit the army it would still function. Kean and
Scully had the business and their families, and Grandma Mac had her own
life.

At forty-one what did he have? A gimped leg, a bad attitude and
nightmares. "Hell!"

BJ marveled at the empty waiting room, then back to Flo behind her desk.
"Okay, where'd everyone go? It's only two. Did you wave a magic wand and
make them all disappear? I think we should patent that wand."

"The wand is my pen. I rescheduled for tomorrow. Maggie and Dixie
called, wanting to meet you for lunch. I figured you'd better be there
after the wedding episode. I'm betting they're none too happy about that."

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"Try foaming at the mouth."

"Bring chocolate. They'll forgive anything if enough chocolate's involved."

BJ smiled at her nurse of fifteen years. What one didn't think of, the
other did. Perfect working partners, and friends. "Thanks for saving me
from my patients."

Flo sat back, pointed to the door and said in a huff. "They aren't sick,
honey. They just wanted to talk about you marrying Flynn Maclntire and
get all the dirt and see if you did the deed."

"There is no deed. As I've told everyone over and over and over, this is a-"

"Marriage of convenience." Fly waved her hand as if shooing away a fly.
"Nobody wants to hear that. They want a secret love affair that involves
you two not keeping your hands off each other. Everybody knows you two
went together in high school and those old romances rekindled make the
best stories of all. Everybody wants the dirt, the heat, the sex. They
love the sex."

"There is no sex!"

"Well, ain't that a damn shame."

B J leaned on Flo's desk, bracing herself on her arms. "We fight, Flo.
Like-"

"Old married folks?"

"Like hounds over a bone. That's the way it was in high school-that's
the way it is now." She stood. "If one of us says something, the other
has the opposite opinion. He's a Republican. He likes Dali. He likes
jazz and Hemingway and-"

"My suggestion is to forget the talking and get right to the action, the
real action." Her voice got all throaty

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as she added, "Bet the two of you can do real well in that department
and agree on everything just fine. You two got the look."

"There is no look."

"Ha!"

BJ closed her eyes, a headache threatening. "There is no action."

"You could do with some action, and I'm thinking Flynn is the perfect
man for the job. Hot, sexy, virile as a bottle of Viagra."

BJ could picture Flynn just that way. Her eyes snapped open and she
reached for the door handle. "I'm out of here."

Flo tipped her head. "You're running off because I'm right about you and
Flynn, and you're afraid to hear it because it might give you ideas."

BJ stopped and said, "I'm forty. I'm not afraid, I do not run."

"Honey, I don't care how old you are. You are so afraid you don't know
which end's up, and I'm here to tell you it doesn't matter, as long as
one's up and one's down."

Flo laughed and B J slapped her palm to her forehead, trying to ignore
the instant heat spreading to every inch of her body as a mental image
of the up-and-down situation flashed before her. She ran out the door
with more of Flo's laughter ringing in her ears. BJ called over her
shoulder, "I'll be back for evening appointments."

Maybe, she thought as she made her way to the Purple Sage, if she
survived the rest of the day. Everyone seemed to think that since she
was the town doctor and

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Flynn was the town hero and they'd had a brief town romance, their
business was public domain and everyone had claims on it.

She wondered if Flynn encountered the same harassment as she did. She
considered his fierce army-colonel expression. No one in his right mind
would harass Flynn Maclntire...except her, of course. Then again, when
it came to Flynn she'd never been in her right mind.

She rounded the corner and spied the Murphy twins rushing her way from
across the street. Oh, no, the biggest gossips in town, next to Ms.
Millie. They'd pump BJ for information, and she was not in the mood. She
started to duck into the hardware store, till she spotted two of her
mother's friends inside, who also spotted her.

Trapped! She'd have to run for it, or at least walk fast, since running
wasn't exactly her thing. She lowered her head and walked as fast as
possible to the Purple Sage. No one would follow her there-too noisy
with lunchtime clatter for a proper inquisition. BJ saw Maggie and Dixie
at their usual table by the window, neither looked too friendly.

Most times BJ ignored the gooey treats under the glass dome on the
counter, but this was a gooey-treat situation. She ordered three pieces
of peanut-butter pie. Balancing them she sidestepped other customers,
pretending not to hear their questions about her marriage and Flynn. She
said to Maggie and Dixie, "I bring gifts of great joy."

They continued to stir their coffee.

The silent treatment. "Okay." BJ shrugged, almost

106

losing the plates. "I'll just take these to the three cowboys in the
corner booth. I bet they-"

"Don't even think about giving that pie away," Dixie ordered, grabbing
one of the pieces from BJ's hand. "I love peanut-butter pie."

"Really? I didn't know that." BJ placed the other piece in front of
Maggie, who said, "But I shouldn't eat this, or I'll never fit into my
wedding suit. I'll look like a big pink sausage."

BJ pulled out a chair and put her own piece on the table. She said to
Maggie, "You could drop it off at the sheriff's office for Jack. I bet
he'd appreciate peanut-butter pie."

Maggie nodded. "Maybe I better taste it first to make sure it's okay."

BJ handed her a fork. "Wouldn't want our sheriff to get sick. That would
be terrible."

"Just awful," Maggie said around a mouthful. Her eyes misted and an
expression of pure rapture covered her face at first bite. "Why," she
said on a sigh, "is it that all the stuff in life we like most is so bad
for us? A carrot never tastes like this."

"I have a theory," Dixie ventured. "If you eat the carrot first you
still want the pie. But if you eat the pie first you don't want the
carrot. So why not just skip the carrot and go right for the pie? Saves
time."

BJ bit back a laugh. "Like cutting out the middleman."

"My point exactly." Dixie forked another bite. "Speaking about the man,
how's yours?"

"Mine?" BJ looked from Maggie to Dixie. "You got

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me over here to pump me for information about Flynn and me?"

Maggie tsked. "Well, of course. You owe us. Give."

"There's nothing to give." BJ ran her hand over her face. "I should get
a tape recording of this so I don't have to keep saying it over and
over. There is no man in my life, just Flynn and-"

"He is all man and then some," Dixie said, fork raised in declaration.
"And if you don't see that, you are in serious trouble."

"But he's not in my life."

"Why not?" Maggie claimed another bite and wiggled her eyebrows. "He's
under your roof. You eat together, talk together and-" she grinned
hugely "-why wouldn't you sleep-"

"We sleep in separate rooms," BJ finished.

"That's it? There's nothing more to tell?" Dixie asked. "You should be
ashamed."

"We didn't do anything."

Maggie snagged BJ's pie. "Well, that's darn disappointing. I'd hoped for
better, much better. You can go now. We're all through here."

"What do you mean, I can go? You asked me to come. I brought pie."

Dixie licked a spot of peanut butter from her fork. "Since you have
nothing good to share and we already got the pie, you can go."

"We're still not talking to you," Maggie added.

"I don't believe this," BJ seethed. "You just wanted gossip?"

Maggie nodded. "Yep, that pretty much covers it. We

108

asked you here because we were dying of curiosity, and now we see
there's nothing to be curious about. And since we're still mad at you,
leave."

BJ sat back in her chair. "Maybe I'm lying. Maybe Maclntire and I have
had incredible sex in every room of the house and in every position
known to the human race?"

"You wouldn't be calling him Maclntire without turning red or
stammering," Dixie said. "You're not a loose woman. The wild sex would
get to you and we'd see that there'd been hanky-panky."

Dixie turned to Maggie. "I can't believe there's been no hanky-panky."
She waved at BJ dismissively.

BJ stood. "Remind me again why we're best friends?"

Maggie shrugged. "I'll think of something as soon as I finish this pie."

"I thought best friends forgave all."

Maggie huffed and offered BJ a beady-eyed stare. "Except being excluded
from a certain wedding. That's going to take some time."

BJ stormed for the door, yanked it open. All this abuse for a baby?

Labor pains, that was what this was. Natural mothers had contractions to
have a baby; she had Maggie, Dixie, Mother and the whole blasted town of
Whistlers Bend to deal with. And she had Flynn Maclntire, the biggest
pain of all, living with her. Not because they fought, but because of
the other times, like when they were alone and didn't fight and she got
all hot and bothered looking at him and felt certain the minute he did
open his mouth they'd have war.

How could she deal with both sides of Flynn?

109

Flynn drove away from the lodge. The day seemed a longer one than usual,
maybe because Scully was home recuperating and not on the job. He should
go to Cabin Springs, soak and then do some of those stretching exercises
to get his leg moving better. He turned the car onto the road that led
there. A cloud of dust went with him, enveloping the car, and he
suddenly remembered another road just like it on the other side of the
globe, when he'd been driving in a convoy and his whole world had blown
apart.

He stopped, stared off into space, the horror replaying again and again
and again in his brain. Sweat drenched his clothes, his hands shook, and
he squeezed his eyes shut against the memory. Then the peaceful Pryor
Mountains reappeared and the serenity of Whistlers Bend surrounded him.

He rested his head against the steering wheel, drawing in ragged
breaths. How could he get past this? It wasn't the first time he'd been
in combat; he'd spent most of his life there. Maybe that was the
problem, like

110

the drop of water that falls into a bucket when there isn't enough room
for even one more drop.

He needed to go on. He needed to function, but he had no idea how to do
it. Doctors had tried to help him, but the decision was really all his.

He did a U-ee and drove back down the dusty road, any enthusiasm for
soaking and exercise gone. Not that he'd had all that much enthusiasm
before. He turned onto the two-lane as a box truck flew around from the
other direction, followed by two more. Flynn swerved to the side,
sliding on the gravel, dodging a collision by a hair.

"What the hell!" He fought to control the car. What was a box truck
doing here? Any truck other than the cattle variety never came this way.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, the clouds of dust obliterating any
chance of his catching the license plate.

The drivers were lost? Except they had to realize they'd left the main
road five miles back. And why were they heading toward the old depot? It
was a nothing place miles from nowhere.

He drove back to town, parked in front of the sheriff's office, got his
cane and went inside. Jack Dawson glanced up, then leaned back in his
chair, cop face firmly in place. Once a Chicago cop, always a Chicago
cop, "Flynn Maclntire, what can I do for you?"

Flynn held out his hand. "Accept my apology for being a horse's ass the
other night."

Jack laughed. "Been a horse's ass on more than one occasion myself." He
stood and took Flynn's hand. "No harm done. Congratulations on getting
hitched. Got to admit, I never saw that one coming."

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111

"Hell, neither did I." Flynn gave a lopsided grin and sat down. Jack
parked on the edge of his desk and Flynn continued. "Have you heard
anything about box trucks running up by Silver Gulch?"

Jack didn't say anything, but the glint of interest in his eyes gave him
away. Flynn went on. "Spotted three of them about twenty minutes ago."

"Any markings? License pjates?"

"Plain white. Too busy staying on the road to catch the plates. Thought
about giving chase but didn't want to step on any toes in case you had
something in place."

Jack raked a hand through his hair. "Trucks come and go at random times
and at different places in the area. Best we can tell, they're meeting
up, offloading whatever and fading away, using back roads. Something's
up and it's not legal, or they'd meet in town. These guys are impossible
to catch with j jist Roy and me to cover so much territory, and alerting
the good citizens could wind up in a shoot-out over nothing."

"Thought I'd mention it. If I can help, just say the word."

"I might do that. Keep this to yourself. We don't want to tip our hand."

Flynn nodded and stood and Jack walked him to the door. "I suppose we'll
be seeing you and BJ at the reception tomorrow night at the country club."

Flynn stopped dead. "Ah, hell, I forgot about that."

"Your mother-in-law sure hasn't. Her daughter's a class act, but
Margaret can be a handful." Jack patted Flynn on the back. "Good luck,
Colonel. You're going to need it."

Flynn drove to the next block, stopped in front of

112

BJ's house, now his house, and went inside. Flo hurried down the hall.
'"Evening, Colonel. Have a good day? BJ's just finishing up."

B J stuck her head out of an examining room. "How'd the soaking go?"

"It didn't."

Her brow furrowed and she met up with him in the hallway. "We need to talk."

He leaned against the wall, tucking the hook of his cane into his front
jeans pocket. "It's never good when a woman says that. It means she's
going to tell you something you don't want to hear. Right now I want to
hear about a beer and a cigarette."

"Oh, that's going to do you a lot of good. The cancer-stick prescription
for good health?"

He headed for the stairs, for a shower. BJ trailed behind. "You're not
going to improve if you don't follow any of my suggestions."

He halted at the foot of the stairs and faced her. "And I'm probably not
going to improve, period, so what's the point?"

"You getting better is part of the deal."

"Screw the deal."

Flo stomped down the hall and with a flourish pulled open the front
door. She bowed, gesturing toward the outside like a flamboyant
doorman-or doorwoman, in this case. "There. Now you have the whole
blessed town as an audience for your infernal bickering," she said.
"Anyone who thought your marriage was a match made in heaven now knows
they're dead wrong. I've never met two more mismatched, pigheaded,
uncompromis-

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113

ing people in all my born days. No better now than twenty years ago.
It's the wrong marriage for all the right reasons.

"So how are you going to make it work?"

"Hell if I know." Flynn grabbed his cane and stepped around BJ and took
the stairs. He went for the shower, turned it full-blast hot and
stripped off his clothes. Flo was right. He and BJ had to make this
marriage work, at least for a while. Not because of his leg, but because
some kid out there deserved it.

He and BJ needed to set some guidelines. Something that would keep them
apart but allow them to live together. The heated looks, heated
thoughts, along with the heated words, were driving him nuts. This
love-hate relationship they'd gotten themselves into sucked and had to
get straightened out.

He dried off with one of BJ's minuscule rose towels, dressed in clean
clothes and went back downstairs. Flo was gone; BJ was finishing up with
the last patient of the day. Evening had fallen, casting long shadows
across the waiting room and into the hall. He dropped down into the
leather couch to wait for her and closed his eyes, fatigue washing over
him like some giant wave.

He listened to the steady rise and fall of BJ's soothing, patient voice;
the tick of the clock in the hallway that got louder, then louder,
faster, then faster; the hum of an engine.. .aconvoy on an unpaved road.
Explosions, gunfire, someone shoving him. He could save them this time.
This time it would be okay. He reached out and grabbed the soldier,
throwing him hard to the ground, covering him with his body for
protection. It worked; he'd won.

114

Except it wasn't the enemy at all. It was BJ. He had her pinned to the
floor. She appeared dazed but okay. He dropped his head beside hers. "Damn."

BJ felt Flynn's breaths hot and fast on her neck, his heart beating
wild. She had no idea what to do. Yelling snap out of it seemed a bit
harsh, considering he'd been in the throes of some sort of nightmare
when she'd woken him. Besides, having Flynn on top of her was something
she'd dreamed of a hundred times. Pity it had taken a nightmare to get
him here. But right now she had something more important to consider.
Flynn needed her and she had no idea what to do.

She couldn't come up with a single class or article or symposium that
applied to this situation. She went with female gut instinct, framed his
face between her palms and brought it up to hers. She kissed him.

Not a sexy kind of kiss like last night's, but a reassuring kind from
someone who cared. No matter how much they argued, she did care. She
always would. His lips were hard, unmoving, unresponsive as she gently,
slowly, planted kisses across his top lip, then bottom, working her way
from one corner to the other. Gradually, his mouth softened, his body
relaxed, melting into hers. His mouth moved, then formed to hers and he
returned one kiss, then another.

He took his head away, and the heated look in his eyes said he wasn't
thinking army. She kissed him again. "I was worried about you. This
wasn't a come-on."

"I understand." He didn't budge. His eyes darkened

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115

to rich velvet and he brushed her hair from her cheek and her forehead.
"But this is," he said with a definite ring of command. "One minute we
want to strangle each other, the next minute this."

He kissed her. Hot, possessive, sensual, urgent and more wonderful than
her wildest dreams.

His rugged, unyielding strength surrounded her. She wrapped her arms
around his neck, her fingers sliding across his broad shoulders, then
bunching into the material of his shirt as she brought him close, not
quite believing she was really with him.

His tongue engaged hers in an erotic dance, suggesting exactly what he
wanted. He dropped quick hot kisses across her chin, making her quiver,
then stopping where her blouse closed in a vee.

He pushed himself to a kneeling position, one leg on either side of her,
trapping her. Holy Toledo. She'd dreamed about this and here she was.

He yanked his shirt over his head and threw it onto the couch. Her gaze
snapped away from the zipper and focused on his naked chest, his torso
rising and falling with rapid, barely controlled breathing. "Are you
expecting more patients?"

"I have no patience, Flynn. I want you now."

He grinned. "Patients as in doctor and patients."

"Door's locked." She reached for his belt buckle, but his hands stopped
hers. "Are you sure about this?"

"Flynn, I locked it myself. It's a dead bolt."

His eyes brightened; an enticing smile softened his lips. "I mean, are
you sure about this." He trailed one firm finger down her middle, to her
waistband.

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She felt light-headed, woozy. She swallowed. "I've wanted this for
twenty years."

Her eyes widened. So did his. She froze. Did she just say what she
thought she said? What would he do? Laugh, snicker, lord it over her?

"Twenty years?"

"On and off."

"You never said anything."

"Maybe I should have interjected / want to have sex with you between our
battles."

"It sure as hell would have gotten my attention." He took her mouth in a
searing kiss that shocked her and drove all doubt right out of her brain
that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. His demanding tongue took
possession of hers and his left hand tangled into her hair as he cupped
the back of her head possessively while his other hand held him upright.

Her pulse drummed; her insides clenched. She touched his muscled chest,
the sprinkle of soft curls against her palms exciting her. Like she
needed more of that! Her fingers traced the smooth skin of his abs, firm
from years of military training. Her thumb skimmed down his middle, and
paused at his belt buckle. Then she undid it, unsnapped his jeans and
fondled him.

Flynn broke the kiss and closed his eyes, his body suddenly rigid. That
she had this effect on him set her on fire.

"Oh, BJ." He righted, his eyes bright with arousal now. He unbuttoned
her blouse. Worshipfully, he spread the sides of the blouse and traced
the curve of her cleavage with his fingertips. Her breasts swelled and
strained

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117

against her bra in anticipation of his touch. She couldn't take in
enough air. Her lungs burned; her body grew heavy with wanting him.

"What you do to me is incredible," Flynn said in a husky whisper. "Your
skin, your scent, your heat, the way you respond to me. I want you bad."
Then he lowered his head and took her left nipple into his mouth,
material and all.

Yikes! Her body arched, the nub in his now-wet mouth hardening as his
tongue suckled her. She needed to touch him without any barriers. She
dragged his briefs lower and her hands stroked his ridged flesh.

"BJ," he murmured against her flesh, "you're incredible. You're heaven."

"You're huge."

He grinned, then chuckled. "It's been a while for me."

"And you think the spinster town doctor gets much action?"

"You're no spinster. You're hot!" He slid his hand to her back and undid
her bra. "We need to make up for lost time." He sat up and peeled her
bra over her breasts, then let out a long breath saying, "You're gorgeous."

"Barely B," she lied. "You have been without for a while."

"You're perfect." He bent his head and kissed her left breast, then the
right. She massaged his erection again, loving the throb of him in her
hands. She reached lower and cupped his full firm testicles; his body
quivered in response.

His fingers found her zipper and her slacks loos-

118 Fabulous Husband

ened. He sat up, his breathing fast and shallow. "We have a problem."

"Flynn, we have so many. Do we have to discuss another one now ?"

"Birth control? You said you were too old for a baby."

"Luteal phase defect."

"That is code for...?"

"Low progesterone levels. You aren't my first lover. No babies without
artificial insemination."

He gave her a roguish grin. "Doc, there sure as hell isn't anything
artificial going on tonight." He hooked his fingers in her slacks and
panties and glided them down over her hips, her thighs, her knees and
calves to her ankles.

He took off her shoes and tossed one over his left shoulder. It landed
somewhere with a thump. Then he tossed the other over his right
shoulder. He removed her pants, leaving her naked from waist to toes.
Good thing she was lying down, because the hot look in his eyes turned
her legs to jelly. He stood. Keeping his eyes fixed on her, he slid off
his jeans.

She appreciated every wonderful, fully aroused inch of him. He said,
"You are so lovely."

"So are you."

He knelt, but instead of covering her with himself, he spread her legs
and planted a wet kiss on the inside of her left knee.

Her eyes met his over her torso. "What are you doing?"

His left eyebrow arched. "Fulfilling a dream."

"This wasn't part of the dream."

119

119

His eyes went smokey-blue. This time a devil grin parted his lips. "Liar."

Then he planted a row of hot kisses along the inside of one thigh, then
the other. She felt embarrassed and tried to close her legs, but he held
firm. The smell of sex filled the room as his fingers, his tongue, his
lips trailed up, closer, more intimately, making her tremble with
excitement and expectation. "Flynn, is this the way middle-aged
women...act?"

She heard him laugh, then she felt his mouth on her moist most sensitive
flesh. Her insides quivered, tightened and flamed as an uncontrollable
orgasm shook her body. "Oh, Flynn!"

"Just let it happen, BJ."

Pure heaven rolled over her again and again, proving middle-aged women
did this so very well. In fact, she hadn't done it this well as a young
woman. Forty was.. .good. Great. She should have turned forty a long
time ago. And then she felt his hard body on hers, his knees spreading
her legs wider still, his arousal pressing into her softness, opening
her and then filling her with himself.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, her hips arching, meeting him.
He thrust into her, building her up again-could she really do this again
? His lovemaking completed every dream, every fantasy, she'd ever had
about Flynn Maclntire.

Rapture spiraled through her. Her moans, raw with emotion, echoed
through the room. She tightened her thighs around his middle, drawing
their bodies closer still, sending her and him into a climax. Nothing
could have prepared her for this, for Flynn.

120

Flynn felt the world explode around him, and this time it had nothing to
do with bombs and mortars and gunfire, and everything to do with Barbara
Jean Fairmont and incredible, mind-blowing, heart-stopping sex. If he
had known it would be this terrific he'd have dreamed of it for twenty
years, too!

He rested his forehead against hers, keeping his weight from her. She
wasn't that much shorter, but he had her by sixty pounds. Squashing her
flat didn't seem like an appropriate thank-you for great sex.

And that was all it was. That was all it could be. A life of great sex
wouldn't compensate for a life of arguing. He opened his eyes; hers were
still closed. Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, returning to
normal. Her breasts were still full and round with passion, nipples hard
and pink from their lovemaking. "You're incredible," he said in a voice
not very steady at all.

Her eyes opened and met his. She licked her sexy lips, soft and red. Her
green eyes sparkled with satisfaction. "You're the one who's incredible."

"Satisfy any dreams?"

She smiled. "You have no idea."

"Maybe I do." He didn't move but drank her in. He didn't want this to
end, and he knew the real world waited for them with more problems than
he wanted to face. She stroked his cheek, then slowly ran her fingers
over his lips, chin and throat, her touch warm and gentle and caring.
Her eyes darkened. "Can we just stay here for maybe the next twenty
years? Since we took twenty years to get here, it only seems fitting."

121

121

"And we do fit." He kissed her, memorizing the feel of her lips on his.
"Oh, Doc, I wish we could stay here."

He rolled from her and sat up, then helped her up beside him. "What
now?" she asked.

He swiped his hand over his face. "Now we redefine the objective and
design strategy."

"We're not storming the citadel, Flynn. We're trying to live together
without homicide." Her eyes met his and she let out a resigned sigh.
"Which has a lot of similarities to storming the citadel."

She raked her silky hair back from her face and looked at him. "I need
food."

"Sex gives you an appetite?"

She pursed her lips. "Since you know everything else about me-" she
blushed, making her all the more attractive "-it's been so long, I don't
remember if it does or not."

He laughed and stood, then reached down to help her up, taken by the
fact of how willowy she was. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her,
reveling in her naked body next to his. "You haven't forgotten a thing,
Doc."

This time she laughed, the contagious sound suddenly mixing with the
ringing phone. She closed her eyes. "Back to the real world."

She turned away and sprinted from the room, her sleek frame silhouetted
by the faint glow of moonlight slipping through the window. He pulled on
his briefs and jeans, listening to BJ's voice in the distance. The
floorboard creaked as she made her way back to him. She got her panties
and slacks from the floor, saying, "Baby Deters has a nasty cough, and
firsttime parents

122

Mommy and Daddy Deters are frantic." She shrugged into her clothes. "We
can strategize as soon as I get back." She buttoned her blouse. "Have
you seen my other shoe?"

He held it up in triumph. "Think I liked it better when 1 took it off.
I'll cook up some dinner."

Even in the dim light he saw her head snap up in surprise. "You cook?"

"Can you change a tire on your car?"

She shrugged. "Of course."

"Guess we've crossed those gender barriers." He held up her other shoe
and she snagged it. She hopped down the hall, slipping it on as she
went, then pulled her medical bag from behind Flo's desk.

He opened the door for BJ and she paused in the entrance, the moon at
her back. She trailed her hand over his chest to his arm and paused at
the tank tattooed on his biceps. She kissed it, then looked up at him,
her eyes clouded. "I don't know what's going to happen from here on out,
Colonel Maclntire, but as for the twenty-year wait- she winked "-it was
worth it."

She left and quietly closed the door behind her. He stared at it for a
while. Twenty years was a hell of a long time to wait for anything, but
on this one thing they agreed--it had been worth the wait. The question
was.. .what the hell would they do about it now that the waiting was over?

BJ checked her watch as she trudged up the garden path. Ten o'clock.
She'd spent two hours treating the sniffles-the baby hadn't even had a
full-blown cold.

123

123

Then again, better to have overconcerned parents than a guardian who
didn't want to be bothered. Tomorrow she'd pay another visit to the
Deterses to make sure they were okay, and she'd visit Aunt Katie again
and check on things there. Kids, job, diabetes, dating. What a combination.

When she opened the side door, wonderful food smells washed over her.
Her mouth watered and her stomach growled. She followed her nose to the
kitchen and the homey clatter of pots, pans sizzling and.. Jazz? She
hated jazz. To her it sounded like a radio on two stations at once. She
stopped in the doorway and Flynn caught sight of her. "Hey. Hungry?"

Chicken, potatoes, garlic bread, green beans. "You... fried? You carbed?
You buttered?"

She couldn't remember the last time she'd fried anything except an egg
for the boys.

He pointed to the stove. "And I vegetabled. Is that bad?"

Not if you're a soldier and you sweated your butt off in the field all
day. But for a sedentary doctor... She should just get a glue gun and
slap all that food on her butt right now, because it would end up there
eventually. Flynn had worked really hard, so she went with a big smile
and said, "Smells great!"

He heaped her plate with enough food to last a week, then did the same
to his and sat across from her. He dug in. "You know," he said around a
bit of fried chicken, "I thought about identifying the objective, and
decided that was us getting along, right?"

She bit into the chicken. "This is really good." And

124

she meant it. How long had it been since she'd had any fried meat?
Years! She felt her arteries constrict.

"Well," he continued, "I figured if I took one bedroom and the guest
bath, put my stuff there and made it livable, that would work."

"Livable?"

"I already moved the picture and some of the furniture into the attic
and tomorrow I'll-"

She stopped mid chew, hoping food didn't dangle from her mouth. She
stared at him across the table.

His eyes met hers. "I moved some of your more feminine accoutrements-"

"My what?" Her eyes bugged.

His eyes narrowed. 'Trappings, frills, bits and pieces of female
paraphernalia. I can't live surrounded with all that...stuff."

She put down her fork. "Stuff-give me some examples."

"Towels, lotions, shampoos, spongy things, hair dryer. That kind of junk."

"That kind of junk is Christian Dior and costs the earth." She leaned
across the table and waved her fork, complete with piece of chicken, at
him. "Shouldn't you have discussed this strategy with me? We could have
come up with a solution together?" Like you moving to the Holiday Inn in
Billings.

"You were busy. I took care of it. Done." He sank his teeth into a
drumstick, looking more caveman than houseguest.

"But this is my place."

"And mine-at least, for a while."

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125

She chomped the chicken off the fork, amazed she didn't chip a tooth in
the process, then hacked off another chunk so she wouldn't be tempted to
turn her utensils into lethal weapons, draw and quarter Flynn Maclntire
on the spot and hang his sorry carcass out the window. Then she
remembered his carcass and her mouth went dry. She remembered that
carcass in action, and suddenly, she couldn't breathe.

Then she considered her house. The vultures could have him. "Couldn't
you have just pitched a tent behind the compost pile or something?"

He glared.

"All right, all right. That's a little extreme." She jabbed some green
beans. "Maybe it isn't as bad as it sounds." She brightened. "I'm tired,
overreacting. I'm sure it's fine. Just make yourself at home."

"I have."

Why did those two words sound so ominous? She bit into the bread and
tore off a chunk with her teeth.

"It looks pretty good."

She wouldn't ask him to define good. "Butter?" She held up the bread. "I
don't have butter here. Did you shop?"

"Picked it up from Grandma Mac when I went over for my jazz collection."

Jazz! She put down her fork; her stomach rolled.

"That's all you're going to eat? I have dessert. Picked up a pie at the
Purple Sage. Dixie and I got talking and she gave me some denim
curtains. Used to be in her son's room."

BJ's eyes widened to cover half her face, and her jaw

126

dropped. "D-denim? You changed my custom-made Waverly curtains for..
.denim?"

"They're terrific. And green instead of blue. No navy." He leaned across
the table. "And they don't have flowers."

"You like flowers."

"About as much as you like fried food. In small doses." He nodded at her
plate. "Dixie lent me the matching bedspread to the curtains. That
should make you happy. Everything will match."

'To what? A barracks?" She leaned across the table, her nose nearly
touching his. She remembered the last time they'd been like this, nose
to nose, having terrific sex. Now they were arguing.. .just like old
times. "The comforter on that bed is from Neiman Marcus. It's Siberian
goose down, the epitome of comfort and relaxation."

"And it's covered with some big red flowers, and now it's in the attic."

She pushed her chair back, stood and peered down at him. She considered
wringing his neck but counted to ten, then stomped down the hall. She
climbed the stairs, turned left and looked into his room. Green denim.

Oh, Lord, olive-colored things are in my house, and not just on the plants.

She heard him come up the steps and felt him behind her, his breath
light on her neck, making her tingly- or maybe that feeling was a bad
reaction over this room.

"Great, huh. I knew once you saw it, it would be okay."

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The worst part was he was serious! "You should mount an Uzi over your
headboard. Complete the ambience. Maybe park a tank in the backyard."

"We don't use Uzis in the army and a Big Boy wouldn't fit in the backyard."

He winked. She turned from the bedroom from hell-though hell would have
more flash-and went across the hall to the bathroom. "Where's my shower
curtain? Where'd this tan plastic thing come from? Where are my towels?"

"You mean those skimpy things about the size of a postage stamp that
wouldn't cover my..." They exchanged looks. "Never mind."

She spread her hands wide, taking in the white-tiled bathroom and
getting her mind back to the moment. "I can't live like this. These
towels are brown."

"They match the shower curtain."

"They're nearly threadbare, and they're hanging in my bathroom."

"I've had them for about ten years, taken them with me all over the world."

She pulled one off the rack and held it up to him. "Redeem them in for
frequent-flier miles, but don't hang them in my bathroom."

He pulled himself up tall. She did the same. "Till I get back in the
army," he said, "and I mean really back in, this is my bathroom. I can't
move out. Your mother and my grandmother will go ape-shit if I do, and
you have to admit that's worse than a little denim and some brown
towels, and I know it's worse than flowers. We can't get a divorce or
all that baby stuff you ordered will

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A Fabulous Husband

go to waste because the adoption will be down the tubes."

He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. "So, this is it, Doc. Deal."

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"Deal? With this?" BJ huffed and planted her hands on her hips. "How do
I do that?"

"I'm not a permanent fixture here, just passing through. When I'm gone
you can have all your flowers and prissy little things back. It's just a
room."

"Two rooms, counting the bath. Welcome to the home of Bunker Bob." She
spun on her heel and headed back downstairs.

"Where are you going?" he called over the railing.

"To clean up the kitchen."

"I can do that."

"You cooked. I'll clean. Why don't you soak in your new bathroom.
Headfirst!"

She had to get away from him before there was a homicide in Whistlers
Bend. Maclntire's! Her twenty-year fantasy of wanting Flynn, kissing
him, making love to him, had come true, then ended with a crash. Once
again she and Maclntire were at each other's throats. Everything was
back to normal.

How could she be madder at him than ever before

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and be hotter for him than ever before? Then she considered the waiting
room and the two of them there. She had her answer. Lust didn't need to
make sense; it just was. But it wasn't all lust. Flynn did have his good
points. He'd married her to help her adopt, Petey and Drew worshipped
him, and the man was a true hero.

She opened the pantry. She needed comfort food, dealing with Flynn food.
She needed a fix. She reached behind the cylinder of oatmeal, the jar of
honey, the two boxes of dried milk and connected with the brown paper
bag stashed in the corner. She sat at the table, fished out the
contents, tore off the cellophane and popped a chicken into her mouth.
Thank the sugar gods for Peeps. Nothing like marshmallows covered in
sugar for inspiration.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She swung around, a purple chicken's butt hanging out of her mouth. She
poked it all the way in with her index finger as Flynn entered. He
picked up the package. "You're eating this and you give me grief about
fried and buttered and carbed?"

"And smoking," she added around a gooey mouthful. She pinked as he
started to clear the dishes, could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks.
"Can't help it," she mumbled as he packed glasses and utensils in the
dishwasher.

"And you can't tell anyone," she continued after she'd swallowed.
Gulping Peeps was a sin. They were to be savored. "I'm the official
hawker of healthy eating around here, and if it gets out I eat
sugar-covered marshmallows no one in Whistlers Bend will ever listen to
me again."

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She wiped the counter as he did the table. "I had to drive all the way
to Billings at Easter to get these so no one would see me. Besides, it's
against the law for a husband to rat out his wife. I think it's in the
Constitution or something."

He eyed her. "Or something. Life is never boring with you, Doc, I'll
give you that."

"I've never come home and found that the Decorating Diva of the First
Brigade had taken over my house."

"Two rooms," he called over his shoulder as he walked down the hall. He
stopped and she heard him turn back toward her.

"Now you're back to redo my kitchen into a mess hall?"

"How'd you know I was with the First Brigade? You're not exactly into
the army thing."

"Good grief, Maclntire. You're all over the newspapers. Everybody knows.
Two Silver Stars, a Purple Heart. Commendations out the ying-yang."

"Nobody remembers that kind of thing."

"Of course they do. I remember."

He gave her a long look. "Yeah, you do. More than I ever thought you
would." He retraced his steps and she heard the stairs creak as he went
to his bunker. She didn't understand what that last crack was about, but
it didn't matter. He'd made plans for her house. Now she'd make plans
for him and how to get him out of her life.

And as the pearl-gray of dawn broke over the mountains, inching its way
into her room, she decided to put her plan into action. Not just because
of the great re-

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modeling fiasco but because sleeping-or more accurately, not
sleeping-next to Flynn's room and not in Flynn's room drove her nuts.

She pulled on mauve sweatpants with matching top, grabbed two pillows
from her bed and made her way toward the bunker for a direct assault.
The door was ajar and she went inside, stood at the back of the room and
threw one pillow, which missed the bed entirely in typical uncoordinated
BJ Fairmont style. She prayed for better luck, thought how Tiger Woods
got that ball into that little cup, aimed again, then hurled the second
pillow. Miracle of miracles, it landed squarely on Flynn's head.

Flynn bolted upright, ready to tackle the world. His eyes cleared and
focused on her. "What are you doing, Fairmont?"

"Staying out of harm's way. I remember the last time I woke you."

He ran his hand over his bare head. "And you woke me because...?"

"You're getting up in a half hour anyway to go to work, and I want to
massage your leg and get you going on your exercises. You have to get
out of here before we kill each other."

He studied her through the dim light. A slow smile spread across his
face. "Let's massage something else."

"I'm serious, Flynn."

"So am I, Doc." His look turned roguish. A sudden bulge under the thin
sheet confirmed his words.

She put her hands to her hips. "You still want sex with me, even though
we agree on nothing?"

He shrugged his broad, bare shoulders. "Okay."

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She hadn't counted on the sheet settling around his waist and the broad
bare part. She'd only counted on the get rid ofFlynn part.

"Do you always think with the lower part of your anatomy, early in the
morning?"

"I'm a guy. It happens."

"Well, this can happen, too." She moved closer, concentrating on his
thick head and not his nakedness. "I'm massaging your leg, then we're
going for walk around the block without your cane."

He gazed at her for a long moment, a faraway expression in his eyes. "No
way, Doc. It's not a walking-with-out-the-cane kind of day."

"And just what kind of day would it take for you to agree to that?"

"A distant one." He lay back down. "Go away. My leg, my problem.
Besides, I've got that flag for Drew and Petey. I need to attach a pole
to the house."

"It's our problem. You're living in my house and we'll be back in plenty
of time for Drew and Petey, and what are you doing to my house now?"

"Putting up a flagpole. A short one. Remember my idea? Ya know, you're
getting to be a nag."

"And you're an interloper." She left the room, because if she didn't,
she'd jump into bed with him.

She got out of the house and made for the Purple Sage. With luck, Dixie
had the early shift. BJ wanted coffee and she had to bean Dixie over the
head for all her great help to Flynn. Denim! Dixie knew she hated denim.
It fell in the same category as blah-brown. Had she ever worn any of
those colors in her entire life?

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She pushed open the cafe door and zeroed in on her best friend, who was
serving up ham and eggs, along with a good dose of flirting, to the
hardworking cowboys. Maggie plopped down at their table, looking like
something the cat had coughed up.

BJ plucked a feather from Maggie's hair. "What the heck happened to you?
I keep seeing you in town earlier and earlier. Maybe you should move in
from Sky Notch."

"Do I have to hear insults this time of day, especially from someone in
mauve and clean Nikes? But if you need answers, Andy happened, again.
Seems to be having a real good time of this." She gulped coffee. "Every
time I get close he laughs and trots his one-ton girth off in the
opposite direction, knowing I can't do one darn thing about it."

BJ sipped the coffee Dixie had poured. "Your buffalo laughs? How much
sleep did you get last night? Maybe you should persuade someone to help
you round up Andy."

"Dan Pruitt goes with me sometimes, but if Andy won't come to me, he
won't come to anybody. Last night he scared the bejeebers out of some
kids camping down by the lake, plowed through Denis Turpin's chicken
coop. I helped Denis chase prize pullets till dawn. There are enough
feathers in my car to make my own pillow."

"What are you doing here so early?" Dixie asked BJ. "Don't you and Flynn
have better things to do at this hour?" Dixie asked.

"I tried to get him to exercise, but he wouldn't cooperate."

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Dixie's eyebrows arched. "Can't believe a guy like Flynn Maclntire would
turn down morning exercise. Doesn't seem the type at all."

BJ threw her hands in the air. "1 mean exercise as in real exercise. Did
I say anything, one single word, about sex?"

Everyone in the cafe stopped dead and stared her way. Okay, this had
gone on long enough. She stood, held on to Dixie's shoulder for support
and stepped on the chair. "Listen up, everybody. Flynn and I are doing
this marriage thing so I can adopt a baby and help Flynn with his leg.
That's all there is to it, not one thing more. Get the picture? Now you
all don't have to get ear strain listening to our conversation over here."

She stepped down and reclaimed her seat. "There." She dusted her hands
together. "That should put an end to the gossip. And why are you two
suddenly all chummy with me? Thought we had issues."

Dixie sat across from BJ and put her coffee carafe on the table. "First,
no one believed a word you just said. You made too big a deal out of it
and you called Flynn Flynn, not Maclntire. You always call him
Maclntire, so something's changed, and I'm guessing that exercise you
didn't do this morning already happened last night and-" she rushed on
"-the reason Maggie and I are chummy is your mother's having your
reception tonight at the Rocky Fork Country Club and we don't want you
to uninvite us."

"I suck at affairs."

Dixie stood. "It's not an affair. You're married. Get used to it."

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"I could never get used to being married to Macln-tire. And I should
uninvite you after you sold me down the river with that denim thing."

Dixie sauntered toward a cowboy needing a coffee refill. "Flynn's as
handsome as all get out and has a killer smile. I'm taking his side."
Dixie turned back and winked. "See you tonight, Mrs. Maclntire."

Flynn opened the side door to let Kean in. "Here," he said, holding up a
gray suit. "It's all I've got. But you're two inches taller than me, so
it's not going to work." He gave Flynn a disgruntled look. "Can't
believe you didn't consider this till an hour before your own wedding
reception."

Flynn took the coat from the hanger, parked his cane by the desk and
shrugged into the jacket. The sleeves crawled two inches above his
wrist. Kean shook his head. "BJ's going to kill you. A long slow painful
death. She's a doctor. She can do it."

"We're just doing the reception to keep her mother and Grandma Mac
happy. BJ won't care what I wear."

Kean raked a hand through his curly hair and chuckled. "You got the army
thing down real good, little brother, but you don't know squat about
women. We're talking wedding here."

"Once and for all, it's not a real marriage. It's just for-"

"Convenience. I got it. But if there's one thing I learned about women
after being married to Shirley for ten years it's that women take their
weddings serious and the reason for the wedding doesn't matter. Did you
get BJ flowers?"

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Flynn rolled his eyes. "Flowers? If there's one thing we don't need more
of in this house it's flowers." He pointed out the window. "There's a
whole damn yard filled with 'em. Why should I get her more?"

"You are so dead, army boy." Kean stuffed his hands in his pocket and
rocked back on his heels. "What did you wear for your elopement? Jeans?
A shirt with Go Army scrawled across the front?"

"A suit that fits. It's at the cleaners and they're closed and Clyde
Imhoff's gone night fishing, damn his lucky hide, so there's no hope of
him opening the shop to get my suit out."

Kean arched his left eyebrow just the way he always did before he and
Flynn did something they'd be sorry for later. "Maybe we should break in
and get it."

"Isn't that a bit extreme?"

"You show up at the reception in jeans and BJ will give you a whole new
meaning for the word extreme. Where is she now?"

"Getting her hair done and nails and other girl stuff."

"Still think this reception doesn't matter?"

Flynn cursed, yanked off the suit jacket, grabbed the cane and headed
out the door as his brother said, "We have to hurry. If you're late that
won't do, either. BJ's first almost husband left her standing at the
altar in front of the whole town. It wouldn't be nice to do that to her
again."

"We're already married."

"But this reception makes it official and everyone will be there again."

He and BJ might not like each other all that much, but she didn't
deserve another humiliation.

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They drove a few blocks to Clyde's and pulled into the back alley. Flynn
tried the rear door. He pushed his shoulder against it and shoved.
Nothing. "It couldn't be that easy, would it! Now what?"

"Now we break in." Kean pointed to the roof. "Window's open in the
attic. Give me a leg up."

"You can't climb with your hand. You'll just tear it open again and then
BJ will really have my butt." Flynn held his cane like a baseball bat.
"I'll smash the window and-"

A sheriff's cruiser pulled into the alleyway and Jack Dawson slid from
behind the wheel. "What's up, guys?"

Flynn pointed his cane at the window. "I'm breaking into the dry
cleaners to get my suit for the reception. If that doesn't work for you,
lock me up. Least then I'll have an excuse for not being there."

Jack raised his hands in surrender. "Like hell. If I locked you up
tonight and you missed this wedding reception, my ass would be grass and
Maggie would be the lawn mower. No way, Maclntire."

Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring. "You're not the
only man in this town to forget his suit at the cleaners. For the sake
of marital bliss, Clyde gave me an extra key. Just leave the money on
the counter."

Jack shoved the key in the lock as BJ rounded the corner, her hair and
makeup perfect, her dress something right out of an expensive
magazine-her face pinched and worried. Hell, he did that to her. He'd
screwed this reception thing up big-time.

He said, "I apologize. I'm getting the suit right now.

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I won't be late, I swear. How the hell did you know I was here? Marital
radar?"

"Mrs. Homestead saw you out her back window and called to tell me my new
husband was trying to break into the dry-cleaning store and was probably
going to wind up in the pokey instead of at his wedding reception." BJ
nodded to an apartment across the alley. "She figured you forgot your
suit like half the other men in this town. But we've got bigger problems
than your suit, Maclntire."

"Yeah, flowers? I didn't get you any of those, either."

"Drew's run away." BJ held out a paper. "He's been gone hours. The flag
was up, and I went searching for the boys and I found Petey crying. Drew
said he was running away because no one loved them and when he found a
good home he'd come back for Petey."

"Does Katie have any idea what's going on?"

"Aunt Katie is nowhere to be found. I have no idea what's going on. The
boys were supposed to be staying with a sitter, but she never showed up."

BJ suddenly slammed her small fist against the side of the building,
making all three men jump in surprise at the calm, cool, controlled town
doctor acting completely out of character and tearing the hell out of
her delicate, perfectly manicured hand. "Dammit to hell! I should have
done something about this sooner."

Kean took a handkerchief from his back pocket, turned the clean side out
and wrapped it around her skinned knuckles. "We'll find him, Doc. Don't
you worry now."

BJ shook her head. "He's seven years old and he's completely alone."

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"We have a whole reception of people assembled to help us find Drew."
Jack said. "I'll get the word out to the surrounding sheriff's offices
and highway patrol and meet you at the country club in twenty minutes."

BJ followed Kean to his truck and slid across the dirt and mud left from
Maclntire and Sons Construction jobs. Flynn knew zilch about dresses,
but this one was ruined, he felt sure. It didn't bother BJ at all. In
fact, the fashion diva of Whistlers Bend didn't even seem to notice.

Kean stopped in front of BJ's house and said, "I'll get supplies from my
place and meet you at the reception."

Flynn followed BJ as she ran up the garden path, her high heels tapping
across the brick. How could she run in heels? Normally, she couldn't
run, period. She opened the door and said, "Give me five minutes and I'll-"

Then she stopped dead, staring at Drew's jacket, which hung on the
coatrack by the door, probably left from the morning. "When I find him
I'm going to wring his neck for worrying me like this. Petey said he
rode his bike, so heaven knows where he went off to."

"Where's Petey now?"

"With Flo," BJ said in a lower voice. "I should have known this would
happen, Flynn. I should have stepped in, done something sooner. Katie
might be their aunt, but she's not up to raising two boys. I kept hoping
she'd get better, but...but she's so young. Petey has special needs and
Drew can be hell on wheels. It's too much."

BJ blamed herself for this. If something happened,

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she'd never forgive herself. God, he didn 't want that for her, for anyone.

He stood in front of her and looked her in the eyes. "Drew is definitely
a handful and that's exactly why he's okay. He's tenacious and
resourceful and-"

"He's you?"

"More or less."

"Something happened to set him off, Flynn. Petey won't say what, but it
had to be big or Drew would never have left him. At least Drew had the
good sense not to take Petey away from medical care."

"You've got five minutes, Doc. Dress warm. We should go."

She went to her room and Flynn to his. He pulled on his boots and
grabbed his army field jacket, and stepped into the hall as B J was
coming out of her room, carrying what had to be a cashmere coat,
matching gloves and hat that coordinated with her dark brown slacks and
boots. Her hair, still braided on top of her head, and her pearl
earrings, made her look as if she were headed for a night in New York.

"Not exactly an outfit for tracking in the woods, Doc."

"It's all I have. I don't track. Remember how the woods hate me? Bugs
bite me, birds squawk at me, everything green and brown alike, I have no
idea where I am. When the sign says No Trespassing it means me."

"I remember." He kissed her on the forehead, went back into his room and
returned with his other field jacket. He held it out to her. "Not
fashionable, but if it rains you won't get wet."

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She swept her eyes from it to him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Me
wearing olive drab."

He smiled. "Maybe a little."

She took the coat. "All right, but I'm buying you a blue shirt."

"As long as it's not navy."

She tossed her coat into his room, when it landed on his duffel bag, and
they headed for the stairs. "We'll take my SUV." And fifteen minutes and
a hair-raising drive later they walked into the country-club dining
room. It was complete with white tablecloths, china, huge wedding cake,
soft music, flowers, ice sculptures, sandwiches about the size of an
ant's ear, drinks-and Margaret Fairmont totally furious.

She stormed over to them. "Barbara Jean, what is that thing you're
wearing? How could you embarrass me like-"

"Not now, Mother. Drew Prescot's run away and we have to find him."

"That little ruffian who picks my apples every fall, rides through my
sprinkler on his bike and puts tire tracks in my yard?"

Jack hustled into the room. The music stopped and everyone froze,
staring at him, realizing something was up other than a wedding
reception. "We have a missing boy," Jack called out. "Drew Prescot. And
we need everyone to help look for him."

"I saw Drew riding his bike to beat the band about two hours ago," Harry
Moran yelled. "When I was coming in from Sky Notch after visiting Maggie."

Flynn pulled duct tape from his jacket and fixed a

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map to the wall as Jack continued. "Then we'll concentrate the search
from Sky Notch and branch out."

Flynn motioned for everyone to gather close. "We'll work in a grid." He
pointed his cane at the map. "Volunteer for the area you know best.
Those of you who do mountain search-and-rescue understand the drill.
Cover that area. The rest work in groups of three. Bring food and water
with you, dress warm and wear hats and navigation equipment-don't need
anyone getting lost. If you don't have radios or walkie-talkies, get one
from Kean or the sheriff and keep in touch with him and one another."

Flynn paused, glanced at Jack as he nodded. "And if you see anything or
anyone suspicious call it in," Flynn said. "There've been truckers
driving the high roads and they aren't cattle haulers. We don't have any
idea what's up, so don't be the hero and confront them."

"Butch and I'll take the south-west area by our farms," Dan Pruitt said.
"We've got an outbuilding where Drew could be hiding if he needed to
hole up for the night."

Maggie walked to the door, "I'll get my hands to cover Sky Notch. We've
got about two hours of light left. Then we'll be down to flashlights."

"Better get a move on." Henry, Maggie's father, added. "Mighty small boy
to be hunting with flashlights."

"And it's mighty big territory," Jack finished as he stared at the map.

BJ wrapped a bandage around Maggie's ankle, then handed her a glass of
water and aspirin. Maggie said,

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"I don't believe I sprained my ankle a month before my wedding. How
could I trip over a log?"

"Usually, that's my line." BJ hugged her. "There's a good chance you'll
be okay by then, but if not, the bride wearing crutches will give you
and Jack something to talk about on your anniversaries."

Maggie gazed at her puffy ankle. "We were married for seven years,
divorced thirteen and now we're getting remarried. We've got plenty to
talk about already."

BJ checked the bandage, making sure the wrap wasn't too tight. "Well,
now you have more." She helped Maggie off the table, steadied her and
handed her the crutches just as Jack strolled in. He pushed his
sheriff's hat to the back of his head and eyed his bride-to-be. "That's
my girl."

"This isn't funny, Jack."

"Nope, but it's okay by me." He strolled across the room and scooped
Maggie into his arms, the crutches crashing to the floor, and kissed her
hard. "Anything that keeps you in my arms is damn perfect."

BJ smiled. "I called Billings Memorial and they're expecting you. They
have better X-ray equipment and I want to make sure everything's okay."

Jack winked and retraced his steps, his soon-to-be bride cradled in his
arms.

A pang of envy settled in BJ's heart. Her marriage consisted of a
handshake. 'Course, there was the waiting-room incident to consider, but
that wasn't love, that was...an incident.

"Hey," Flynn said from the doorway. "Busy?"

"Two sprains, one of them Maggie, five lacerations

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requiring stitches. That's what happens when you have people running
around in the night with flashlights and they don't know where they're
going." She quirked her eyebrows. "No Drew? I didn't even get a chance
to search for him."

Flynn parked his cane at the doorway and tramped into the examining
room. Boots, field jacket, needing a shave, an army man through and
through, and so darn handsome she clasped her hands to keep from
touching him. He sat down on the stool by the treatment table. "Jack
called off the search till tomorrow. Everyone's exhausted and they're
starting to get careless. Some wedding reception."

"When we find Drew, it will be."

"You're dead tired, Doc. Pretty, but tired."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Pretty?"

"We're both too tired and worried about Drew to argue, so you'll have to
settle for pretty and know I mean it."

She nodded to the kitchen. "You sure have a way with words, soldier. How
about I buy you a beer?"

He followed her and turned for the fridge. "You sit." she said. "I'll
make a sandwich. Your leg's got to be bothering you."

He held it out, moved it back and forth. "Not as bad as it could be.
Maybe it's getting better in spite of me."

"It sure isn't getting better because of you."

He grabbed a map from his jacket, hung the cane on the edge of the
table, then slipped the jacket off and put it on the counter. "Just what
I need-a smart-ass at 0200 hours."

"To the rest of us that's 2:00 a.m." She spread her

146

arms wide. "Why can't army people just say 2:00 a.m.? What's the deal?"

He glanced up from the map. "Why can't you just say 0200 hours? What's
the deal?"

She handed him a Coors. "If we were stranded on a desert island three
feet wide we'd find something to argue over."

"Or.. .something." His words hung between them almost like a challenge.

"We can't go there, Flynn. It would never work. It didn't work twenty
years ago, and not all that much has changed between us." She grabbed
sandwich fare from the fridge because doing something was a lot easier
than dealing with what could be but would never work.

He sat on a bar stool by the window and studied the map instead of her,
probably for the same reason, taking a long drink of beer. "Here's your
house." Flynn tapped the map. "Here's where Henry said Drew was riding
his bike. No one's seen him since."

She stopped slicing a tomato and faced Flynn, a chill inching up her
spine. "Do you think the truckers...?"

Flynn shook his head. "They're not after kids. They're hauling
something, but who knows what. And they're meeting up at different
places. The chances of Drew and these guys connecting are slim."

He studied the map again and pointed to Sky Notch. "Maggie and her hands
covered the ranch. The teenagers searched the back areas up to Cabin
Springs. Henry organized the seniors into driving the other roads and
investigating the parks. Search-and-rescue did the

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mountains, though Drew couldn't have gotten very far in that direction
before night fell."

Flynn ran his finger over the map. "This road forks by Sky Notch. The
paved section heads west. The dirt road goes east to the old depot."

She piled ham and cheese on the bread. "Jack and his deputy looked there
first. It's runaway central. Drew wouldn't have been the first kid here
to get mad at his parents and hide out at the mine."

Flynn took another drink. "In junior high I got grounded for fighting
the Trenton twins and ran off because I was pissed. Then I got hungry
and came home and got grounded double."

"The Trenton twins." She shuddered as she sliced the sandwich into
halves. "Those boys were pure evil. Always picking on somebody, mostly
me. When I was twelve they pushed me off my bike and I got cut on some
glass." She glanced at her forearm. "I still have the scar and...

She gazed at Flynn. Their eyes met and quiet filled the kitchen.
"Funniest thing, after that day, neither of those rotten jerks ever
bothered me again. Why do you figure that is, Flynn Maclntire?"

He shrugged and turned his attention back to the map. "Beats the hell
out of me, Doc."

"And you think I'm a bad liar."

"I know you are. I'll grab a quick shower before I eat." He got his cane
and headed down the hallway and BJ set the sandwich beside the map.

She considered the route Flynn had outlined. "Where the heck are you,
Drew Prescot?"

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She stared out the window at the crescent moon low in the sky, at the
flag from the hideout hanging on the pole and- She snapped fully awake
and pulled her attention from the flag to the map. "Oh, my, God. The
hideout. Flynn's hideout."

The idea was a long shot and it was nearly 2:00 a.m. Flynn had put in a
tough enough day without running after a hunch. She scribbled a be back
soon note, which he would probably take for a medical emergency of some
sort. Then she grabbed his field jacket from the counter and ran out the
door.

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BJ hit the accelerator and took a hard right. The SUV skidded from the
paved road onto the dirt one, up to Silver Gulch. The car bounced over
potholes and ruts and rocks till the old weathered train depot came into
sight. The boarded-up mine lay to the left, an outcropping of trees and
brush to the right. Flynn had said his hideout was close to the mine
entrance, behind brush. And she'd look for that pine tree with two trunks.

She stopped the car, but kept the headlights on, shining at the spot
where the cave might be. A flashlight would be good. Too bad that idea
hadn't popped into her brain back at the house. Then again, BJ Fairmont
did not venture out into the wilds of Montana ever, much less at 2:00
a.m.-or 0200 hours, as some thickheaded, though incredibly handsome,
army man termed it.

Army man! His jacket. With so many pockets surely there'd be a
flashlight. Duct tape, knife with enough tools to build a skyscraper,
matches, nonscented candle-what a waste of a good candle-granola bars,
flashlight. Ta-da!

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She skimmed the light over the terrain, searching for disturbed grass or
something. That was what they did on those CSI shows. If something
sprang out or slithered or growled she'd die of fright.

She pushed aside bushes, and spotted an old pine with two trunks. Didn't
bears live in caves? Bats? Oh, God, bats. Crouching, she held her
breath-she had no idea why-aimed the light. She focused on an opening
and looked inside to- "Drew!"

"Go away."

"Thank goodness you 're okay." She felt light-headed with relief and
held on to the cave wall for support, till something slithered across
her hand.

She stifled a scream as Drew said, "Don't come here. I don't want you. I
don't want anybody. Leave me alone."

He stood about ten feet into the shallow cave, his eyes huge, his face
tear-stained, and he was shaking. As much as she wanted to run to him
and wrap her arms around him, that had to wait. She needed answers; they
had to get this straightened out. Something was terribly wrong, or Drew
would never have left Petey. "Why did you run away?"

"I'm going to Billings to find a new home for Petey and me. They have
shelters in cities and we could stay there. I saw some trucks up here
and thought I could ask for a ride."

BJ's blood ran cold. "That's very dangerous. You know better than to
take a ride with a stranger."

"You don't care about me! Nobody does."

"Of course I do. Most of the town's been looking for you. Where's Aunt
Katie?"

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"I hate, I hate her! She's sending me and Petey to foster people," he
blurted. "I know what foster people are-seen it on TV. Petey and I might
not even be together." His voice cracked. "They'll split us up."

"Drew, are you sure that's what Katie said?"

"Heard her talking to Eddie, that boyfriend. They went away for the day,
but the babysitter never came. Eddie doesn't want kids. He hates rug
rats. He calls us rats."

A tear slid down Drew's cheek. He sniffed and swiped it away with the
back of his hand, leaving a dirty smear. "Aunt Katie doesn't want me or
Petey and you don't, either," he sobbed.

Her heart cracked. "Of course I do."

His sad eyes met hers through the darkness. "You and Flynn want to adopt
a baby. I heard you talking. Why a baby? Why can't you want to adopt me
and Petey? Why can't you love us?"

Oh, God! The world stopped. She hadn't seen this coming, though she
should have. What she said next mattered. It mattered a whole lot to
this little seven-year-old boy. If she didn't say the right thing he'd
be lost; he simply couldn't take any more rejection and being shuffled
around, or acting brave for Petey. Drew was just a scared little boy.
But she was a responsible adult, and it was Barbara Jean Fairmont's time
to be brave and do the right thing.. .as her father would have. As she
would do.

"I do love you," she said in a matter-of-fact voice, her mind made up.
"I want you and Petey to live with me. I want to adopt you." It sounded
good, very good.

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"You're just saying that so I'll come back to town and-"

"Drew, have I ever, ever, lied to you? Haven't I always leveled with
you, no matter what? You and Petey and me. We'll.be a family, I swear."

"What about Flynn? You're married to him. What do we do with him? What
if he doesn't want me?"

"Flynn will be a part of our lives, too. But he's going back to the army
and won't be around as much. We'll bake him cookies, send him letters
and pictures and silly cards, and sing to him on the phone and do
e-mails on the computer. He can see us when he returns."

Drew paused for a moment and gave her a hard look, part of him wanting
to believe, part of him afraid to. Disappointment did that, made you
think nothing would' go right again. Petey and Drew deserved better.

"You cross your heart? You really, really cross your heart?"

BJ put the light to her chest and made a cross. She extended her little
finger. "And pinkie-swear."

"If you break a pinkie-swear your teeth fall out."

"I'm not breaking the promise. I'll talk to Aunt Katie tomorrow. I mean
it, Drew." BJ held out her hand. "Petey's waiting for us. Let's go home."

"Home?" he said with a hint of hope, nearly breaking her heart more. His
little finger wrapped around hers, feeling good and the right thing to
do. Perfect. She hugged him, bringing his sluvering body tight to hers.
"Everything will be okay, Drew. We're all going to be fine."

She took off Flynn's jacket and wrapped it around

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him, the thing dragging to the ground. "There. Now you're in the army. "

Drew stretched out his arms, sleeves hanging over his fingertips. He
gazed down. "Neat." He smiled slowly, his eyes shining. "You won't go away?"

"If I have to go to medical conventions or into Billings for doctor
things, Flo will take care of you till I get back. I'll call every night
when I'm away."

"And bring back presents? Because that's what families do, right?"

"Yes, that's exactly what families do." "Do you have anything to eat?
I'm really hungry," he beamed and said.

She reached into the big pocket on the left side, pulled out a granola
bar. "I think this is some kind of ration. If the army's attention to
cuisine is anything like their attention to fashion I wouldn't expect
too much."

His little face scrunched up. "What did you just say?"

She ruffled his hair and chuckled. "Nothing important." She ripped off
the wrapper and handed it to him.

"Cool. Army grub. Army guys can do anything. They're tough. Flynn's
tough. I bet Flynn can do anything."

BJ smiled. "Yeah, I think Colonel Flynn Maclntire can do just about
anything. He's saved a lot of people in battle. Put himself at risk to
do it. He's truly a hero."

"Bet he killed a lot of bad guys."

"That wouldn't be his first option, I'm sure." Killing would never be
Flynn's first option.

Drew bit into the bar. "Why are you wearing his jacket?"

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"That's what 1 want to know," said a voice from the entrance.

Drew ran to Flynn and threw his arms around his waist. "Doc BJ's going
to adopt me and Petey and we're staying together and we're going to send
you cookies and e-mails when you're in the army. Isn't that great?"

Still holding on to Flynn's middle, Drew rolled his eyes at him. "I'm
eating one of your granola bars. Can I be in the army just like you when
I grow up?"

This was not exactly how she'd intended to break the adoption news to
Flynn. Even in the dim light she could see his eyes widen to the size of
saucers. She imagined it took a lot to get that kind of response from an
army colonel.

"Sure, Drew," Flynn said as he rubbed Drew's head, then brought the
boy's little body close to his. "A soldier's a great thing to be."

He hooked his cane into his jeans pocket, shrugged out of his field
jacket and handed it to BJ. She considered refusing but knew Flynn
wouldn't wear a jacket if she didn't have one. That left him in a
T-shirt with ARMY on it, which molded perfectly to his fine body.

Dear Lord, did he have to be so well built? At 0300 hours a resistance
to Flynn didn't exist. Even a creepy cave with things crawling and
slithering couldn't diminish her attraction to him.

She took the jacket, her fingers touching his, her in-sides blazing, her
brain wondering why she kept feeling this way and wondering what she
intended to do about it. "Thanks."

Drew snagged his bike, which sat propped against

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the side of the little cave. "I'm really tired. Is Petey okay?"

"He's with Flo and he's fine." BJ helped Drew get the bike outside. She
held Flynn's cane and he pushed the bike through the brush to her car
and heaved it in the back. Drew jumped in, buckled up and finished off
the granola bar. BJ made for the driver's side and came front to front
with Flynn. And he had such a nice front!

He grasped her hand and stepped a few feet away. His expression
suggested she needed therapy. "Adopt?"

"Hey, you're going to get cookies and e-mails. Don't complain."

"BJ?"

She exhaled. "Katie's putting Drew and Petey into foster care."

Flynn swore as she continued. "Those kids have been shoved from one home
to the other in the past three years, Flynn. Their mother wasn't any
prize and Katie isn't any better. I don't have a lot of options here,
but this adoption idea is a good thing. It feels right to me. I wanted a
child. Now I'll have two."

"Katie's nothing but a no-good, spoiled-"

"Drew and Petey are a lot of responsibility. Petey's condition alone
makes the situation daunting to a young person, to any person. I'm a
doctor. I can handle it better than most." She nodded at his car. "How
did you find me?"

"Probably the same way you found Drew. Looked at the map and then at the
flag, and bingo, everything fell into place. And I followed the skid
marks. You need to slow down. Why didn't you get me?"

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"You'd been out all day and I wasn't sure my hunch was right. And I
don't drive fast-I drive with a purpose."

"BJ Fairmont, explorer and frustrated race-car driver. How are you going
to manage a medical practice and raising two boys?"

"I'm going to manage my practice the same way other women handle their
careers and family. One day at a time. It'll work. We better go." She
turned for her car and he caught her arm.

"Do you have any idea what you've done? This is serious."

She pushed some wayward strands of hair back from her face. "You think I
don't know that? Me taking them is their only hope, Flynn. They're out
of options. It's foster care for them. Juvenile diabetes is incredibly
expensive to deal with and is being picked up by insurance less and
less. Taking Petey is more than expensive-it's the constant supervision
and the fact that it's not going away. This is a lifetime condition.
What do I do? Just sit around and hope Petey and Drew wind up together
in a good home? I'm not doing that. I can't. If I'd hesitated for a
moment to adopt Drew and Petey I would have broken Drew's heart. That
little boy has had his heart broken enough."

Flynn's eyes darkened with realization. "You evened the odds."

"I'm really, really going to try. But you don't have to be a part of
this. You didn't sign up to adopt two kids and a boatload of
responsibility. We can get a quiet divorce. I'll talk to my attorney in
the morning. You can

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still be part of the boys' lives, and I'll still work on your leg, of
course, if and when you want." She nodded at the car. "But a baby's out
of the picture. My plate's pretty full."

"You'll need help-a nanny and a cook and a gardener."

"I'll think about it."

His eyes hardened. "You've never been a mom. You're forty. You can't do
this alone."

"Do you realize how many grandparents are raising their grandchildren
these days because they have to? And I'm a lot younger than they are."

"But they were parents once. You're.. .a doctor."

"That counts for something. I can bandage a hurt knee."

"You can't wise-ass your way out of this."

"Humor might help. I know what if feels like to be kicked to the curb by
someone you trusted, someone you loved-or at least, thought you did.
Then your whole world blows up and you have no idea what to do."

"Randall Cramer?"

"And I was an adult when that happened. Petey and Drew are kids. I want
better for them. I'll figure out how to make us a family as I go.
Lighten up, soldier." She punched his arm, more amazed than ever how
solid it was. "This is one of those happily-ever-after moments. Flowers
bloom, birds sing, the kids find their way home-"

"To your house."

"If that's what makes them happy. Maybe us together was one of those
things meant to be. I wanted a child

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and two found me." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. His
breath warmed her all over. How'd he do that? "Don't be so worried."

"Your house, your life, isn't set up for two hell-on-wheels boys. Take
it from one raised in a house of three hell-on-wheels boys."

"I'll call in Grandma Mac. She seems to have done okay with Scully and
Kean." She patted his cheek. "The jury's still out on you."

"Like hell. I heard what you said to Drew back there." He hitched his
chin at the cave.

She thought of saying, Don't believe everything you hear, but the words
just wouldn't come out. "Then I guess the jury is in. See you back at
the house."

She slid into the driver's side of the SUV, Flynn's eyes never leaving
her. A slow heat flickered in their depths. She understood, knew what
that meant. She also knew that anything of real substance between her
and Flynn was out of the question. Not only did they argue, but they
lived totally different lifestyles, and now their plans were as
different as dawn and dusk.

She put the SUV in gear and slowly headed down the road, Flynn's car
behind her. She called Jack and Flo on her cell, telling them about
having found Drew but nothing about the adoption, as a pile of details
had to get worked out. Jack would spread the word about Drew being safe
and everyone in Whistlers Bend would rest a lot easier.

She parked in front of her house, undid Drew's seat belt and tried to
pick him up. How could such a scrawny kid weigh so much?

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"I'll do that," Flynn said, nudging her aside. He handed her his cane
and scooped Drew into his arms. "I'll put him in my bed. I can use the
couch."

She followed them up the walk, crickets and frogs performing a
late-night-or more accurately, early-morning-serenade. "I can take the
couch," she said. "Drew sleeps in my room." She opened the door for
Flynn and he passed in by her, his body grazing hers, his scent floating
around her, his presence filling the room as it always did.

"I'll let Drew sleep in my-"

"Are you two arguing again?" Drew said, rubbing his sleepy eyes and
gazing at Flynn, then BJ. "Why are you always doing that? Are you going
to leave? When people argue somebody leaves." He wiggled out of Flynn's
arms and stood, his eyes brimming with tears. "BJ promised everything
would be okay. So did you."

"We're all fine." BJ soothed. She looked at Flynn. "No more arguing. You
can sleep in the guest bedroom. It's been redecorated, very.. .male."

She followed Drew upstairs, Flynn behind her, and the little parade
entered the guest room. Drew's eyes widened. "This is cool. It's like a
guy's place. Wait till Petey sees it. Where'd all those flower things go?"

BJ frowned. "The attic."

"Neat."

Flynn sent her a gotcha wink. Drew went in, lay down on the bed and
closed his eyes. Flynn and BJ watched him for a minute, but the little
boy didn't move. "Is he asleep?" BJ whispered.

She tiptoed in, slipped off the jacket, then his dirty

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gym shoes and equally dirty socks. Flynn covered him with the other side
of the bedspread, then grabbed his duffel and BJ's coat, which she'd
tossed there. He followed her into her room.

Using-two fingers, she handed the field jacket to Flynn, then shrugged
hers off and handed that over. "I'm getting a shower. Would you be so
kind as to shake these out in the backyard? If something's crawling
around in the pockets I don't want to even know about it."

"I'll finish that sandwich I put in the fridge."

She took two steps toward the bath connected to her room, then turned
back to Flynn. "Maybe we should get bunk beds?"

"I don't think so." He sent her a wicked wink and she swallowed, her
eyes huge, her body suddenly on fire. What to do? Jump into bed with
Flynn right now, or chicken out and run for the protection of the
shower? Making mental chicken sounds, she went into the bathroom and
closed the door.

The bathroom door closed behind BJ and Flynn wondered if she had any
idea what she'd done. Not just turning down his advances-she knew
exactly what that was about and had probably made the right decision,
though every part of his anatomy disagreed. But about the adoption.

He remembered life at his house with three boys growing up. It was
nothing like life at the pristine Fairmont house, with one little prissy
girl. But if BJ hadn 't taken the boys, what would have become of them?
Nothing good, he'd bet on that.

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He trotted downstairs and shook out the jackets as B J had asked, then
dropped them on the bed. He walked into BJ's closet to hang her coat up.
He paused in the closet doorway.

Clothes. He'd never seen so many. Soft and feminine, hanging perfectly
ordered: slacks, skirts, dresses; tans, blacks, yellows and blues. Shoes
on racks, purses above on a shelf. Not pretentious or flashy clothes,
but simple, classic, elegant. Like Barbara Jean Fairmont. Her scent
settled around him and he inhaled, breathing her deep into his lungs.

He wanted her right now, all warm and giving under him and her wanting
him. But they were too stuck in their ways-he a soldier, she a doc.
Agreeing on nothing. Battles didn't belong in a relationship but a war,
and they couldn't seem to get beyond that.

He spied blankets and a pillow on the top shelf, brought them down and
walked back into the bedroom. Water ran in the bathroom as he placed his
duffel on the bed, picked out a pair of cotton drawstring pants, stopped
in the bathroom to change and wash up, then headed for the couch. He
bypassed the kitchen, too tired to eat.

An open window let in cool mountain air, and he spread the bedding over
the cushions and across the back in case it got cold. The soft leather
welcomed him and he fell into a deep sleep, till he heard, "There you are."

He pried one eye open. BJ. Dream or reality? Either was a definite
improvement of the usual war scenes.

He blinked. Reality! And the moonlight creeping through the window
silhouetted her, making him more

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awake by the minute. "Why are you here? Is there another emergency?"

"Oh, Lord, I hope not. But there is a bug in my room. The field jackets
were on my bed."

"I shook them out, and guess someone liked them as much as I do."

"I don't think so, because he slithered out and is scurrying about my
room. I can't sleep in there. I'll trade you places, okay?"

She wore a dark robe. It was open in the front, exposing a matching
nightgown with a scooped neck that hinted cleavage and tied under her
breasts. Her hair hung long and loose, gleaming in the faint light. She
looked like a renaissance queen. "We have a predicament. I have the couch."

"It's my couch."

"I'm way too tired to argue tonight. In fact, right now arguing's the
very last thing I want to do with you." He grabbed her around the
thighs, pulling her off balance and toward him.

Her arms flailed, her eyes widened. He wrapped his other arm around her
as she toppled onto him. Her eyes stared into his, wide, green,
mysterious. "We both win. Isn't this better than arguing?"

Her breaths came fast and shallow. Her cheeks were flushed. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do." The flimsy material of her nightgown glided across his
bare chest, then he stroked her hair and kissed her. She tasted of mint
toothpaste and a flavor uniquely Barbara Jean Fairmont. His tongue
engaged hers in tag; lost; won, then played again. Her warm

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hands framed his face; her lips were full and moist under his. She
pulled her head back. Panting she said, "Maybe we'll both lose. What
about that? Our relationship is all sex."

He arched an eyebrow. "I'm not complaining."

She slid from his grasp and stood as he said, "I want to make love to
you, BJ, and it's what you want, too. The way you respond to my touch. I
can tell."

"But that's physical. What about the rest? What about in here?" She
touched her head.

"We'll work on it. Maybe it will happen-maybe it won't. But right now
we're doing pretty good."

She stood there for a moment as if deciding what to do. Then she slipped
the robe from her shoulders, letting it float to the floor. His insides
tightened; his heart soared. She'd done this for him and that made this
moment perfect. She wanted to give him pleasure and he wanted to give
her pleasure in return.

Anticipation flowed though him, making him desire her all the more. "I'm
glad you agree."

With no robe to contain it, the scent of her drifted to him as she undid
the ribbon under her breasts, freeing the gathered material there. She
pushed the nightgown from one shoulder, then the other, and it floated
down her frame, exposing firm breasts, narrow waist, the gentle indent
of her navel and the mysterious patch of silk at the juncture of her
legs. The fabric pooled at her ankles and she stepped over it, bringing
herself into a shaft of golden light.

His insides burned; his heart hammered against his ribs. She wore a
glint in her eyes, a siren's smile and

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nothing else. "You never cease to amaze me, or turn me on."

Prickles of alarm crawled up his spine. "What about Drew? What if..."

"I just checked on him. Completely zoned out. Running away is hard work."

"And not just for him. And there's that squeaky stair that's better than
an alarm system. If he comes searching for us we'll hear."

She gave Flynn a sassy wink. "You're getting to know my house pretty
well." Her voice turned smokey as she added, "I'd like to get to know
you the same way."

She sat on the edge of the couch, the buttery leather accommodating her,
and placed her delicate hand on his chest, the scrapes across her
knuckles still red from punching out Clyde's store. He kissed the back
of her hand. "You shouldn't have done that."

"This from the man who's undoubtedly been in more fights than I could
possibly imagine."

"Yeah, but fighting's not you."

"You don't understand me as well as you think you do, Flynn Maclntire.
If I want something I fight for it, too."

Her fingertips roamed across his shoulders, up his neck, across his
face. She leaned forward, gliding her hardening nipples across his
chest. She lingered, her eyes meeting his, then she kissed him deep this
time, her tongue telegraphing exactly what she hungered for.

He caressed her silky back as she laid a line of kisses down his middle.
Her tongue tantalized his navel and desire twisted his gut. His arousal
thrust against her breasts.

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"You're the one naked," he murmured. "And I'm the one being seduced."

"My turn." Then her mouth found his erection through the thin material
of his pants and he nearly fell off the couch. "BJ!"

Her lips formed to him; her wet tongue tormented him. He gripped the
sides of the couch, fighting for control, and when her clever hands
snuck under his waistband he nearly lost it.

"Enough, woman," he rasped. In self-defense, and because he needed to
have his hands on her, he tossed the blanket across the back of the
couch to the floor, gripped her shoulder and flipped her over, breaking
the fall with his free hand. He braced himself on his elbows and stared
into her startled eyes.

"You're a vamp in a lab coat." Than he ravaged her mouth in a
mind-numbing kiss that nearly reduced him to ashes.

Her breasts swelled against him, her body dampened with excitement and
her hands went to his back, her fingers pressing into his flesh. He
broke the kiss. Breathless, he stood and stripped off his pants, then
looked down at her, stretched out before him. "There is something about
this waiting room."

"And us being together in it. Must be the seductive aroma of alcohol and
antiseptic."

He laughed. Her hair was mussed, her breathing quick and erratic, her
eyes bright with passion. "Damn, you are beautiful."

"Damn, so are you." She crooked her finger in come-here fashion.

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Every part of him was taut. He pulled himself over her, loving the feel
of her skin on his.

"Oh, Flynn," she said in a whisper that touched his heart. "I want you
so much."

She wrapped her legs around his middle and he entered her in one thrust,
taking her gasps into his mouth. He pushed deeper, then again and again.
The exquisite pleasure of having her drove him beyond his limit and he
climaxed as she did, making the world around them suddenly perfect
beyond his wildest imagination.

"Too fast," he murmured in her ear. "I want days of this, weeks of this,
BJ, not just twenty minutes on the floor of your waiting room. I want
more-I want longer."

"I happen to think you're built just right for me. Longer wouldn't be
good. And right now I want a bed."

He scooped his hands under her, caressing her, and rolled B J and
himself over, her body relaxed against his now. "I get sass from the
town doctor."

"You get a lot more than that, Colonel." She winked.

He smiled. "How can anyone feel so wonderful, be just right for me?"

"Remember that tomorrow, when all hell breaks loose around here."

"Your mother. It will be interesting."

"Drew and Petey aren't exactly the country-club set." B J lifted her
head and gazed down at him, the afterglow of their lovemaking glazing
her eyes, her lips full and fleshy from his kisses, her eyes misty.

"I'll stay around till things calm down. Everyone in town will want to
know what's going on. You have of-

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fice hours in the afternoon, and you'll have to deal with Katie sometime."

"I'll manage. Flo will help and I can always call in reinforcements.
Dixie and Maggie will come in a flash if I need them and-"

He kissed her. "Changing the subject is one way to stop an argument.
Your mother goes into overload when you wear olive drab. Adopting two
kids might do her in. Dixie and Maggie aren't pushovers, but dealing
with your mother could require more. A united front goes a long way in
winning the war."

"She'll have to deal, Flynn. This has to happen. Those kids need me,
need us. I'll make an appointment with my attorney about the adoption
and you can talk to him about getting a divorce."

He ran a hand over his head. 'There's a lot going on right now. Let's
give it a few days. I'll be around for a while."

She rolled off him and pointed to the couch. "You stay here tonight.
I'll take it tomorrow night." She picked up a corner of the blanket.
"And we shouldn't have a repeat performance of this if we're talking
divorce. I doesn't seem right without a commitment and neither of us is
into that."

She snagged her nightgown and slipped it on. He handed her the robe.
"See you in the morning, Doc."

He watched her walk off. "Hey," he called. "What about the bug? Want me
to come kill it for you?"

She stopped and made a face. "No way. You and me near a bed is dangerous
territory. I'll deal. I got the feeling I'm going to be doing a lot of
that very soon." She shuddered. "But I really do hate bugs."

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The first rays of morning brightened the room as Flynn felt something
plop on his back, then something land on his ass. "Why are you sleeping
on the couch, Flynn?" Petey said above him. "You and BJ are married, and
married people sleep in the same room."

He could use a good excuse right now. "Why aren't you in school?"

Two little boys' laughs filled the room. "It's summertime, Flynn. No
school."

Bad excuse. He could try again. "I couldn't sleep so I came down here. I
didn't want to wake BJ."

"Why are her slippers here?" Petey asked.

"The slippers are mine."

The boys laughed again. "You have slippers with flowers on them?"

Flynn opened his eyes wide and focused on the slippers, which was
obviously not his. He needed coffee, lots of it, and a cigarette or two
or five. He looked at Petey. "How'd you get here? Thought you were at
Flo's."

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"I'm not anymore because you adopted me. Remember?" He giggled. "Drew
told me this morning. He ran over to get me, and Flo gave me my shot and
made us breakfast."

A piece of paper suddenly appeared in front of Flynn's face, too close
to read. "I found this list of exercises for you to do," Drew said.
"They were on the fridge. It says For Flynn."

Drew bounced up and down on Flynn's back. "Petey and I will go with you
so your leg will get better and you can play baseball with us. I love
baseball. I want to be a catcher."

Flynn growled, and Petey said, "You must be hungry. Your tummy's making
noises."

"The sun's barely up, guys. Go back to bed."

"It says on the paper the first exercise is to stretch your legs and
arms and back," Drew said. "Then walk five blocks without the cane. You
can do that. You can do anything-BJ said so. Soon you'll get back in the
army, 'cause that's where you belong. You can be a soldier again.
Soldiers are the best. We'll write you letters."

Flynn wanted sleep. He wanted quiet. He wanted a damn cigarette. Drew
and Petey slid off his back and butt and sat down on the floor in front
of him, list in hand. Drew asked, "Are you ready to get up, Flynn? We're
going with you 'cause Petey's supposed to exercise, too, and I want to
be in the army when I get big. We'll all exercise together."

Just what Flynn deserved-a big dose of guilt to start off the morning.
If he didn't go the boys would be devastated, Petey wouldn't get his
exercise and Flynn

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wouldn't have two kids smiling ear to ear. Okay, he'd walk around the
block, satisfy the boys, then take off for the Cut Loose for a
well-rounded breakfast with the ine twins-caffeine and nicotine.

He sat up and Drew's eyes twinkled. "You're all hairy, Flynn. When do
Petey and me get to be hairy like that? Girls aren't hairy."

"Hairy?" He could do exercises, go with little sleep and tolerate kids
on his back, but this little conversation had all the earmarks of one of
those birds-and-bees talks. He was not getting into that.

"Hi," BJ said from the hall. Flynn stood. "Ah, just what we need, a doctor."

Her eyes narrowed. "Someone hurt ?"

"The boys here want to know when they're-"

"Going to get all hairy like Flynn." Drew grinned.

BJ folded her arms and peered at Flynn. "So tell them."

"They want the scoop about.. .men."

She held out her hands. "I am not a man. That would be you."

Oh, hell. BJ did not look like a man. She looked soft and warm, in dark
brown slacks and a cream-colored sweater, and he knew he was a man
because he wanted to rip that damn thing off-except, they had company.
Little company. "No, you're not a man, but I can't do this. I have no
idea how to do this."

He took her hand, led her to the couch and sat her in front of the boys.
He made for the hallway.

"Where are you going?" she called after him.

"To get my gym shoes." Anything to escape.

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"Then we're going for a walk for Flynn's leg," Drew offered.

"He agreed?" BJ said, then laughed after him. "Well, having the boys
here, asking all sorts of questions, is one way to get you to exercise.
Too bad I didn't think of it earlier."

He swung his head around and caught her giving him a little salute.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"As much as you enjoyed me wearing that field jacket." Her eyes
twinkled; her face was radiant. The kids sitting at her feet-this was
the perfect setting for her. And-surprise, surprise-he liked being here
to see it.

Flynn took the stairs to BJ's bedroom for his shoes. The yellow sheets
were still rumpled, and the pillow was still indented where she'd slept.
He touched the covers. Warm...like BJ. He wanted her again. Right now.
But they'd decided this sexual attraction led nowhere, so what was the
point?

He touched her pillow and his groin throbbed. Damn. He had to get better
and get out of here, or he'd die of sexual frustration in no time.

He pulled his shoes from his duffel, put on a pair of sweats, left his
cane by the door and made his way back downstairs. "We'll get our
jackets and be back in a jiffy, Flynn," Drew said.

Flynn stared at BJ. "Okay, what did you tell them?"

"Why, Colonel Maclntire, are you needing pointers on being a man?"

He grabbed her and kissed her, her taste, her texture,

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her aroma, overwhelming him. He broke the kiss and she stared at him,
dreamy eyed and flushed. "I'll take that as a no." She licked her lips
and he kissed her again.

"Flynn." She seemed startled, excited, hungry, fighting with herself to
let him go. "I told the boys that when they started sounding like a man,
they'd start looking like a man."

"That's it?"

"They don't want an anatomy lesson. Just a simple answer."

"Right. Simple answer. I'll remember that."

"We're ready," Drew yelled as he ran down the hall.

"Wait," BJ said, holding up her hands and bringing the boys to a
tumbling-on-the-floor halt. Little boys spent as much time on all fours
as they did upright. "First," she said, "no running in the house. That's
for outside. And the same with yelling. Sick people come here and they
don't need noise. We have to all help them feel better."

The boys nodded, their expression as if BJ had just asked them to donate
a kidney. As they all walked to the side door Flynn said to her, "Call
Scully and Kean."

"Because you're going to be late?"

"Because your house is shrinking. Ask for the Mac-Intire discount, since
you are legally a Maclntire."

"I need an addition?"

"Doc, you need an office." He winked and went out the side door.

An hour later he came back in the side door. Or, more accurately, he
hobbled back in, then hobbled up the steps, heading for the shower. He
hurt in places he

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didn't know he had, and he'd kept up a good front the whole damn time
because the boys were with him.

No more heading off to the Cut Loose instead of exercising, no more
sneaking cigarettes in the kitchen by the open window. He had witnesses,
two, running around him in circles, telling him funny stories and
giggling, asking him about the army. Damn, how could he grumble or cut
his exercises short or smoke with hero worship oozing from every one of
their little pores?

The boys were spreading the word about the adoption and he felt sure
that his name was part of the news. As much as he'd never planned on
being their dad, he was. And it was just fine.

He turned the shower to hot, stripped and stepped in, the heat soothing
his muscles, but not as much as he'd hoped. He still hurt, and he
mumbled swearwords as he flexed his leg and stayed in the shower till
the water ran cold. He snagged one of his big brown totally guy towels
and wrapped it around his middle, his leg feeling more like a hunk of
wood than flesh. He went into the hall and faced BJ.

She peered at him the way doctors do, making him feel as though he had
leprosy. "You look awful."

"You have the worst bedside manner. You should work on that. Subtlety is
good. Try it sometime."

"This from a man who drives a tank? Did you stretch before you walked?"

He growled, his leg burning. "It was a walk, BJ. You don't stretch for a
walk and I don't want a lecture."

"You should follow orders." Her hair was piled on

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top of her head, showing her long neck. She looked terrific and he knew
exactly what he needed.

She knelt in front of him and ran her hand up his injured leg. "Your
muscles are in knots. They're stiff and strained."

Her hands massaged his leg. The more she kneaded his flesh, the better
he felt, until suddenly more than his leg was stiff and strained. He
gazed down at her golden hair, her capable hands making mincemeat out of
his self-control.

"BJ."

"Just a minute, I'm working out the knots and-"

He took her arms and lifted her in his. Then he kissed her as she melted
against him, her arms around his neck, her breasts firm against his
chest, her mouth sweet and wet to his. He carried her to the bathroom
and set her on the counter, kicking the door shut with his bad leg.

"What are we doing?"

"Having sex and keeping the kids out in case they reappear. They stopped
at Ms. Millie's for juice." He planted the words against her lips.

"Thought we weren't going to do this."

"We lied." He yanked off his towel, then bunched her skirt to her thighs
and he pushed aside the slip of silk between her legs, leaving her open
and inviting. She gasped, her head dropping back as she breathed his
name and closed her eyes, pleasure softening her face. His pulse
drummed. "You are so tight, so silky."

She spread her legs wider, fueling his own need for her, and he pumped
into her, strong steady strokes as

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she gave her body to him. A roaring sound filled his ears, and he pushed
into her once more and held her tight as they climaxed, her body
shuddering against him.

"Oh, Flynn," she said at his neck, nuzzling him. "How are we going to
stop this?"

He kissed her hair. "Maybe we shouldn't try."

"Then what? You go back to the army, come here a few times a year and we
have great sex?"

"Okay. I can do that." She pursed her lips and he sighed. "You're right.
You deserve better and so do I, but we are married-"

"Sort of. Argue by day and have sex at night isn't my idea of a happy
family life."

He stepped away as little footsteps thundered on the stairs. His eyes
widened and BJ slid off the counter. "Oh, no."

She pulled back the shower curtain, pushed him in, grabbed his towel and
tossed it in after him, then slid the curtain home.

"BJ," said Drew from the hallway. "Your mom's here."

BJ cursed and closed her eyes. "Now what?"

Flynn whispered from behind the curtain, "I'll be

down in a minute. We should face her together. We're

allies."

"Battle of the kitchen. But this isn't your fight. I'll

handle my mother."

"I'll be there as soon as I grab some clothes."

BJ opened the door, thinking how much she'd rather

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he'd grab her, instead. Except, that couldn't happen again. This
nonsense had to end.

It was fantastic being with Flynn. Being forty and having sex went
together real well, especially with Flynn as the other half! She glanced
in the mirror and ditched her I-love-sex expression to put on her
I-am-Mommy expression, then stepped into the hallway. She closed the
door behind her.

"Who were you talking to in there?" Petey asked, pointing to the bathroom.

"Singing, just singing...as I cleaned." Pretty good explanation and not
exactly a lie. She'd picked up a towel-that was cleaning-and having sex
with Flynn was musical, sort of like the finale of the 1812
Overture-cannon, fireworks, explosions. Big explosions. Forget
explosions. She had a catastrophe to deal with.

"My mother's downstairs?"

"She was coming up the walk so we're here to get you," Drew said. He
made a face as if he'd eaten a lemon. "She's kind of scary looking, BJ."

"Her bark's worse than her bite."

"She barks and bites!" the boys said together, totally freaked out.

BJ held up her hands. "No, that's an expression. My mother would never
do either of those things."

"We told everyone in town about the adoption. Ms. Millie said you had
her deepest sympathy. Is that another one of those expressions?"

BJ squelched the urge to strangle Ms. Millie and smiled, instead.
"That's her way of saying she's happy we'll be together."

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111

BJ took the boys' hands in hers and led them toward the stairs. They
were in this together and Margaret needed to know that.

"Hello, Mother," BJ said as she entered the kitchen.

Margaret frowned. "So, you're really going to adopt?"

"Good morning, Margaret," Plynn greeted her.

Margaret looked from B J to him. "And neither of you found the time to
call me about this little incident. First the marriage and now-"

"I was working on the legalities this morning," BJ said. "It's been a
little hectic around here, but now-"

"So, these are soon to be my grandchildren?" Margaret said, walking
around the boys, observing their way-less-than-perfect appearance-dirty
clothes, smudged faces, unkempt hair, grungy gym shoes. Things Margaret
would never have tolerated in BJ, or her mother would have tolerated in
her. Old money had old sophistication and a certain class.

"Yes, they are," Flynn said from the doorway.

"Well," Margaret stated as BJ held her breath, hoping her mother would
be nice, even though these were definitely not the grandchildren she'd
envisioned. "I believe these boys are two of the finest young men I've
ever seen in all my life."

BJ blinked. "What?"

Margaret huffed. "What is not acceptable grammar, Barbara Jean. It's
excuse me if you've misunderstood."

Misunderstood! Try flabbergasted.

Margaret put one hand on each of the boys' shoulders in a possessive
gesture that brought tears to BJ's

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eyes. Margaret gazed from one to the other. "I am to be your grandmother
now."

Petey's eyes widened. "You are?"

"Indeed. I've wanted grandchildren for years and years and now I have
you and you have me. I think we can make this work. Don't you?"

Drew nodded and Petey followed. Margaret nodded back and sat on a bar
stool-she never sat on bar stools-and lifted Petey into her lap. His
dirty jeans slid across a four-hundred-dollar Armani skirt. Then she
brought Drew close to her side. "There. That's better."

She reached into her purse, plucked out a camera and held it out to
Flynn. "I bought it this morning. Made Zack Little open his hardware
store for me early to get it. Told him I was a future grandmother and
needed pictures of me together with my future grandsons. I'm going for
lunch at the Woman's Club in Billings and want to pass around pictures.
It's my turn." She smiled, her eyes suddenly dancing. "It's actually my
turn." She hugged the boys closer. "I couldn't be happier."

Flynn looked as though he'd seen a ghost, and BJ felt weak and sat down
on the other bar stool. Margaret said to the boys, "Stand and sit tall,
chins up. You're soon to be Fairmonts."

The boys hiked their little shoulders back, a proud expression on their
faces. Margaret Fairmont appeared... happy. Incredible.

Flynn snapped pictures till the boys were dizzy from the flash. "Now,"
Margaret said to Drew and Petey, "I'm taking you to meet your grandma
Mac. She should be finishing up her tae kwon do class, and then we'll

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go shopping. Grandma Mac is having us all for dinner-stuffed cabbage, I
believe. We'll get clothes first, then perhaps toys are in order."

BJ stood. "Mother, you shouldn't bribe the boys to behave."

Margaret tipped her chin. "Nonsense. Of course I should. You shouldn't,
dear." She smiled sweetly and patted her cheek. "Grandmothers get to do
anything. License to spoil, at least a little from time to time."

The boys yelped and jumped up and down until Flynn said, "Drew, Petey.
No more. You are to go upstairs, make your beds, shower and put on the
clean underwear, jeans and shirts that your aunt Katie sent over for you."

Drew and Petey froze and Drew asked, "Is she going to take us back?"

"No," BJ said. "But she'll visit here and you can visit her. We had a
talk. Is this okay with you?"

The boys nodded.

"Good," BJ said, feeling that things were slowly falling together.

"And you two will behave and mind your manners when you are with your
grandmothers," Flynn added.

BJ held her breath. This was a lot to dump on the kids at one time. The
boys stood there for a moment, wide eyed. Truly one of those
sons-meets-father moments, or boys-meets-colonel moments. Drew made a
face. "What happens if we don't?"

Flynn's eyes darkened. BJ hoped Flynn remembered to keep the answer
simple. "You are now a part of this house, this family," he said, "and
it's your responsibil-

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ity to take care of the people here and the home you live in."

"That's what army men do, right?" asked Drew.

Flynn nodded, and Drew and Petey ran, then walked, down the hall.

Margaret laughed. "Ah, the voice of a man. Nothing quite like it. Well
done, Colonel."

Flynn held out his hand to Margaret. "And the way you welcomed the boys
was...astounding. I'm overwhelmed."

She smiled and blushed. "Why, thank you." She turned her attention to BJ
"And the adoption process will take place without a hitch?"

"Katie is relieved and grateful she can still be part of the boys'
lives. The adoption is going to be fine. The adoption won't be final for
a year, but everyone seems happy with the decision."

"If you require my help, dear, just ask."

BJ embraced her mother-something she hadn't done nearly enough lately,
but she intended to change that, too. "Now," BJ said. "I should give you
both a lesson in childhood diabetes."

Margaret looked stricken. "Oh, my. Which one?"

"Petey. We need to monitor his diet, insulin and exercise. You'll have
to give him shots if you're away from me. I'll show you how to take care
of him if there's a problem."

Margaret squared her shoulders. "I can do this. I was married to a
doctor, helped him out on several occasions."

BJ bit back a laugh. She didn't remember seeing this

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side of her mother. Then again, her father had been around to manage
things. Twenty min-utes later BJ felt confident Margaret and Flynn had a
working knowledge of at least the basics, provided they stayed in town
and BJ was a phone call away. She'd do more later.

Drew and Petey bounded into the kitchen, grinning and clean, hair
standing on end.

"We're ready." Drew held out a wallet to Margaret. "Petey and I got this
for you since you're our grandma and all. We'll pick roses from BJ's
garden for Grandma Mac."

Grandma? Margaret Fairmont as Grandma! Boggled the mind.

Margaret smoothed down their hair, then took the wallet. "Louis Vuitton.
My, my."

BJ studied Drew. "Where did you get this?"

"I didn't steal it." He pouted defensively. "I wouldn't do that."

BJ put her arm around him. "I'm not accusing you, Drew. I just asked.
That's all. This wallet is not sold in any stores in Whistlers Bend and
it's very expensive."

"Actually," Margaret interrupted, "it's not. It's a knockoff."

Drew's eyes opened wide. "Knockoff? That's what happens in the movies
when somebody shoots somebody. I didn't shoot nobody to get that wallet."

Flynn stooped beside Drew. "Knockoff means not the real thing."

Drew looked at Flynn as if he'd lost his mind. "It's real. It's right
there. I can touch it."

Flynn bit back a smile and said to Drew, "It's real but

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not authentic. Like, if some kid at.school tried to sell you a baseball
signed by Babe Ruth for a quarter. What would you think?"

"That he was a lying jerk and the name wasn't real." A light of
understanding sparked his big brown eyes. "I found the wallet behind the
depot when I was searching around for Flynn's hideout. Then I saw some
trucks came and I got scared and ran back into the trees and found the
hideout then."

Fear crawled up BJ's spine and Flynn took Drew's hand. "Did the men in
the truck see you?"

"I took the wallet for Petey for a present and put it in my pocket. Then
we decided it was too girlie 'cause it was blue, and we should give it
to Grandma Fairmont 'cause she dresses real pretty."

BJ knelt down. She swallowed hard. Scaring the boys was not what she
wanted to do. "Are you sure no one saw you? This is very important."

Drew shook his head. "I was just looking around. I didn't hurt anything
and the wallet was just there, like somebody dropped it."

Flynn put his hand on Drew's shoulder. "You did good, pal. Real good."
He held up the wallet and said to Margaret, "A knockoff? Looks pretty
expensive. Maybe it is the real thing. One of the high-school kids could
have dropped it out there."

Margaret's eyes narrowed a fraction and she pulled herself up tall and
peered at Flynn. "Would I question you on the appearances of a tank."

Flynn held up his hand in surrender. "Right. I apologize."

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"Besides," Margaret continued, "the sleeve with the registration is in
here. If someone had purchased the wallet they would have taken this
out, even if it was a knockoff. This piece as a real Louis Vuitton would
sell for over four hundred dollars."

Flynn let out a low whistle; the boys' eyes rounded. "Wow."

"A fake like this one would go for maybe thirty-five from an
unscrupulous street vendor. Not only do the designers like Louis Vuitton
and Gucci and the rest lose revenue on products they've designed, but
our country is robbed of the taxes, and the knockoffs are often made
overseas in sweatshops that exploit children. Ugly business, knockoffs.

"Here," Margaret said. "I'll show you how to tell a fake. The sleeve for
the registration card isn't a true camel color. It's too muddy. The
embossed LV on the front is slightly smudged, not crisp. A stitch at the
corner is askew, not perfect. And the blue shade is a tad off."

She tsked and threw her hands in the air. "Louis Vuitton would spit on
such a wallet."

Petey's eyes shone bright. "Would he really? Does Louis live around
here? Drew and me are the best spit-ters in town. We can have a spitting
contest."

Margaret smiled. "Louis is in New York. I'll take you to visit him when
you're a little older, but no spitting." She tilted her head. "On second
thought we'll go before school starts. We'll visit Louis and you can
pick me out one of his real wallets. Then we'll visit the Statue of
Liberty. We'll stay at the Waldorf, liven the place up a

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bit. Tends to get a bit stuffy. Now, go outside and wait by my car. I'll
be along in a moment."

Drew said in an awed breath, "They have a baseball team in New York. The
Yankees. They're the best, Petey."

The boys ran out the door, talking about baseball and visiting Louis. BJ
took her mother's shoulders. "Have you really considered this? Drew and
Petey in New York? They're a little rambunctious for Whistlers Bend? The
Waldorf! Oh, Mother, the Waldorf?"

Margaret laughed and headed for the door. "I know. The place may never
be the same. In fact, I'm sure it won't. And the best part is neither
will I. I've never been to a baseball game. I imagine I'll have to buy
peanuts in a bag and throw shells on the ground. Who would have thought?"

BJ watched the door close, then said to Flynn. "What's gotten into her?
Is she okay? She's not the same person she was yesterday. Maybe it's
medical."

"It's grandchildren." Flynn chuckled. "Grandma Mac once said that if she
knew how much fun grandchildren were she would have had them first." He
put the wallet in his pocket.

She winked. "Either you're accessorizing and the army is in for a big
shock, Colonel Maclntire, or you're taking the wallet to Jack."

He walked to her, a flicker of fire in his eyes as he slid his arm
around her middle. He brought her body to his and kissed her. She kissed
him back, then stepped away because she was a damn fool.

"We can't do this," she panted. "Not that it isn't

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great." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Oh, it's really great, Flynn,
but- "

"A sexual fling isn't you, and the fact that we are married isn't going
to change things, is it?"

"What's your opinion of waiting awhile for the divorce? The boys have
enough to deal with at the moment with their lives being uprooted. Maybe
after you go back to the army and things settle down, then we can set
the legal wheels in motion."

Flynn gave her that confident stance he did so well when he knew he was
right. "Doc, you got two boys living with you now. Settling down isn't
going to happen for about twenty years or so. We can work out the
divorce whenever you think best. I'd like to set up a trust fund for
Drew's and Petey's education. Not that you can't afford it-" he rushed
on before she could jump in "-but because I want to continue to be part
of their lives."

He winked. "And as for sex... If you change your mind, I'm here."

The door closed behind him. Let him know? She checked her watch. Only
forty-five minutes since they'd had sex in the bathroom and she wanted
it-him- again, now.

She had to get over this. She had to take their marriage for what it
was-an opportunity to adopt children and give Flynn the kick in the butt
to get better. Mission accomplished-time to move on.

The doorbell sounded. The front door? No one came to the front door. It
was going to be one of those days. She opened the door and three young
men stood on the

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little porch. '"Morning, ma'am. Is this the residence of Bear, uh, I
mean Colonel Flynn Maclntire?" He nodded at the men to his side. "We're
three of his unit leaders."

"Flynn Maclntire lives here. I'm his-" What? Arguing partner, sex
partner, pain-in-the-butt acquaintance? She went with "-wife. He isn't
in, but you're welcome to wait. He should be back soon, I think."

The soldier chuckled. "Bear's like that. Can never quite figure what
he's up to. If it wouldn't be too much trouble we'd like to see him."

She led the way down the hall to the waiting room. "Have you had breakfast?"

"On the drive in from Billings, ma'am."

All three sat on the couch. She sat across from them in a chair, feeling
the room shrink by half. No out-of-shape males here. The tallest handed
her a box wrapped in wedding paper. "From some of the troops. Didn't
want the colonel to forget us-we sure won't forget him. How's his leg,
ma'am- if you don't mind me asking, that is?"

"Better."

The one solder nudged the other. "Told you Bear would be back."

"Why do you call Flynn 'Bear'?" BJ asked.

"Nickname, ma'am. Big Bear. Takes no sh-I mean grief from anyone and
watches after his own." He touched his brass belt buckle. "When we were
deployed the colonel gave each of his unit leaders one of these with
Above the rest stamped on the back. Then we went out and got tanks
tattooed on our right arms and got stinking drunk."

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The middle soldier added, "The troops started calling him Bear when he
tore through a burning building and yanked out two of his men, just like
a mama bear."

The third soldier said, "I heard he got the name when he pulled that kid
out of that river and looked like a drowned bear." They all laughed.
Just then Flynn strode into the room.

The men stood. "Colonel."

Flynn's face broke into a wide grin. "What the hell are you guys doing
here? Who's fighting the war?"

"How are you getting on? When are you coming back?"

"Soon." His face brightened and she'd never seen him so confident or in
his element. He was a stranger in her house. With these fine men he was
at home; they were family. They had a bond, just as she did with her
patients. A bond that cut through the junk and went right to life and death.

"I'll get coffee." She headed for the kitchen, then stopped in the
doorway and turned back, taking in the scene. The colonel and his
soldiers, complete camaraderie.

Flynn was a natural leader and these young men depended on him,
respected him, revered him. For Flynn not to return to the army would be
a sin.

Most important, he'd be miserable. It would be as if she could no longer
practice medicine. She'd wither away. She didn't want that for Flynn. No
matter how much she liked having him in her life, his staying was
completely out of the question.

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Flynn opened the side door to the house and slogged his way inside. He'd
been doing this for two weeks now and damn near killing himself in the
process. He couldn't stop for beers at the Cut Loose because the boys
rode their bikes with him while he ran. He couldn't smoke unless he did
it behind BJ's compost pile after the boys were in bed, and when he did,
the smell of burning tobacco and rotting leaves was enough to gag a
maggot. What a way to give up cigarettes! What a way to get in shape.

Flo glanced up from her desk. "Ridden hard and put away wet is what you
look like, Colonel. Think you might be pushing it a bit?"

"Maybe," he panted. He leaned on her desk, bracing himself on his arms,
his head drooping as his breathing returned to normal.

"The doc's got a few more patients, then she's through. The boys beat
you back and took off to Margaret's."

Flynn nodded, his heart rate slowing as Flo grinned

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and leaned back in her chair. "I'm thinking there's more to your
exercising than exercising. Maybe you should be holding back some of
that fired-up energy you got for the nighttime, when things are less
hectic around here and two little boys are sound asleep and BJ isn't. If
you were doing more of what a husband's supposed to be doing at night
I'm betting you wouldn't be doing what you're doing now, if you get my
drift."

"It's not a drift, Flo. It's a damn avalanche." And he wished like hell
he could do exactly what she suggested.

But he couldn't. That was the agreement. What BJ wanted and he'd agreed
to, sort of. No impromptu sex, no whisking her into the bathroom or
anywhere else and having his way with her. They weren't really married.
He thought of the boys, the laundry, the chaotic house. That part sure
as hell felt married.. .and he liked it. He felt settled-something new
for Flynn Maclntire.

He gave Flo a little salute, made his way upstairs past BJ's bedroom,
where he kept their clothes. He wasn't ready to face her room right now,
her things by his, reminding him where he wanted to be, with her,
holding her, having voracious sex with her. Right now he 'd settle for
any kind of sex with her. Was it possible to be this frustrated and
live? Obviously so!

If he went in that room right now he'd lose what control he had and go
back downstairs and take BJ in one of her own examining rooms, not
caring a rat's ass that she had patients.

He headed for the library, sat on the Oriental rug and massaged his leg.
It felt better when BJ did it, but that led to complications on the
countertop. Sounded like a

190

bad movie, and just thinking about it made him hornier still. Was that
possible?

Hell, everything BJ did made him horny. Talking to her, watching her
cook or in her little white coat with her hair pinned on top of her
head. All those things made him want to back her against the nearest
wall, undo her braids and put himself deep inside her.

His body hardened at the thought; He usually tried to replace such a
thought with pain, like fifty push-ups. He'd done more damn push-ups in
the past fourteen days than he had in all of basic training. He had to
get back to the army, put BJ behind him. He couldn't keep this regime up
and stay sane.

He massaged his leg more, loosening his muscles, then grabbed a quick
shower and went downstairs for a beer. As he turned the corner into the
kitchen, he caught sight of BJ passing from one examining room to the
other and instantly wanted her. Ah, hell.

He dropped to the floor and started push-ups as Drew and Petey ran in.
Petey climbed on Flynn's back. "It's my turn to ride Flynn."

Drew pushed at Petey. "It's my turn."

Flynn looked up. "Hey."

Drew stepped away. "Yeah, it's Petey's turn. We came home to get
changed. Grandma Fairmont's taking us to the Schnitzer's bar in
Billings. She said it's neat. She bought us suits to wear, and it has
great food there and we dance. I don't know how to dance, but she's
going to teach me, and we bring presents and wear little hats."

"To a bar? You guys aren't old enough."

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191

"What the heck are you doing?" Jack said.

Flynn huffed as he pumped up and down. "Don't ask."

Jack chuckled. "I think I know. Heck, I think I've done it. There is
another solution, you realize."

"Yeah, and it ain't happening around here."

"I'll get us some beers."

Flynn did more push-ups, trying not to consider that other solution,
till he caught sight of BJ's ankle as she walked in. He concentrated on
his push-ups, and suddenly saw himself in this position over BJ, pumping
into her and...

Piss, he said to himself because there were kids around. All the
push-ups in the world wouldn't cure his condition unless BJ was
personally involved. He collapsed onto the floor in a heap.

"Get up horsey. Get up," Petey bounced up and down on his back. ;

"Hi, Jack," said BJ. "What are you doing, Flynn?" she inquired, pulling
Petey off him and revving him from homy to desperate just at the sound
of her voice. He couldn't get up now. He had a hard-on the size of a
fence post.

Jack toed Flynn's leg. "He's recuperating."

"In the middle of the kitchen floor?" BJ said. "Boys, you have to get
cleaned up."

Flynn raised his head. "Theyfre going to a bar?"

"Bar mitzvah, in Billings. Grandma Mac's going, too. Mother traded in
her Lincoln Town Car and bought a new minivan."

For a second, Flynn wished it were a real bar. Be-

192

having wouldn't be quite so important. "I'm trying to picture Margaret
behind the wheel of a minivan. It's not computing."

"It's red. The boys picked it out. She wouldn't even let me have a red
bike when I was ten because it was too flashy. I should have been a
grandchild."

Flynn grinned as he drew himself up slowly, hoping his body cooperated.
"I'll mind the boys. You still have patients."

BJ nodded, tired and grateful. She left, and Flynn sat Petey on one leg
and motioned for Drew to sit on the other. "You're taking your
grandmothers out tonight and you are to be perfect gentlemen. You're to
help them and be their escorts for the evening like-"

"Soldiers all dressed up in their uniforms," Drew added.

"Yes, just like that. Make them proud of you, and you can be proud of
yourselves. I'm depending on you boys to mind your manners and be
polite." He glanced from one to the other. "Can you do that?"

Drew and Petey stood. "Yes, sir," Drew said, echoed by Petey.

"Good. Now, get a shower and keep the water in the tub this time." They
turned for the hallway, and Flynn stood and snagged the beer from Jack.
"This is God's way of getting back at me for all the hell I put my dad
through."

Jack held his longneck in salutation. "To fatherhood. You're a natural."

Flynn sat on the other stool. "Fatherhood? I have no idea what the hell
I'm doing."

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"I got news for you-nobody does. You do your best, love your kids and
pray it all works out. Not that I'm any expert. I missed most of Ben's
youth and I regret that a hell of a lot. It's one of those things that
if I could go back and change, I would. But Maggie and I are getting
remarried next month. We'll be a family again, though I can never get
back the years I lost by staying in Chicago. I loved my job and hated
not being with my son. No easy answers."

He eyed Flynn. "Something to think about in those wee hours of the
morning when you're lying on the couch, wondering why the hell you're
there instead of upstairs."

Flynn drank the beer. "Maybe it will help me forget why I want to be
upstairs."

"There's only one cure for that and it isn't mental. How's BJ going to
manage when you head back to the army? She's looking worn out already.
Are you two staying married?"

"Hell, Jack, I.. .1 don't know." He surprised himself with that answer.
"I figured BJ and I would divorce sometime, but now we have the boys and
leaving her with all this to face alone doesn't seem right, either."

"And you're doing push-ups in the kitchen."

"There is that."

"And I thought my life was complicated. You got me beat by a mile." He
tapped his bottle against Flynn's. "Good luck." He took a drink. "But I
didn't come here to preach. Roy got a speeder over last night and the
guy mentioned passing three trucks on the back roads by Cabin Springs."

194

Flynn's eyes widened. "What the hell's going on?"

"I've been checking around. Sheriff over in Rocky Fork said some folks
saw three trucks, one bigger, two smaller, at a roadside pull-off in the
mountains. I've been in touch with some of my friends in the Chicago PD.
Bogus designer goods are a huge business. Not just women's purses, but
perfume, jewelry, baby food, meds, sports equipment-you name it. I'm
calling the FBI today to get their take on our little blue wallet. Just
thought I'd let you know, since Drew's present to Margaret is what
really set this all in motion."

Jack finished the last of his beer and put the bottle in the sink. "Keep
this to yourself. Don't need half the town running around with rifles
drawn. Drew didn't say anything about what the guys looked like, did he?"

"He's forgotten all about it," Flynn said. "At least, he never mentions
it. Been kind of crazy around here."

"The adoption's going okay?"

"Katie and her boyfriend are moving to Billings. It's only an hour away
and she'll visit, I'm sure. She's not a bad person. Just had too much
responsibility too fast."

Jack headed down the hall and Flynn went to get the boys dressed for the
bar mitzvah. How was BJ going to handle all this when he left? He'd get
home every few months unless he got shipped out. Then it would be a year
or longer. Grandma Mac would help and Margaret was a trooper, but he
wouldn't be there.

His heart tightened. He couldn't imagine how much the boys would change
in a year. That was what all soldiers faced, one of the reasons he'd
never married.

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195

He'd married the U.S. Army, instead, and never regretted it...till now.

BJ glanced at the files for tomorrow's patients, then caught sight of
Flynn walking down the hall toward the stairs. She breathed a sigh of
relief. He'd get the boys ready for the bar mitzvah and remind them
about being little gentlemen. Then the relief turned to agony. Broad
back, trim waist, great butt-really great butt-hair, or whatever you
called a month's growth of fuzz. She didn't care. In fact, she liked it.
She liked him, every delicious glorious inch of him.

Had it been two weeks since they'd hidden in the bathroom and had sex?
Seemed more like a year.. .or two.

She bit her lower lip as she continued to watch him. Heat waves pulsed
through her, settling in some deep spot inside that wanted a heck of a
lot more than heat waves. She felt achy, tense, hungry.. .very, very hungry.

"That is some hunk of man you got there," said Dixie from behind.

BJ smiled at her friend. "What man?"

Dixie rolled her eyes. "The sexy-as-hell one, the one you just stripped
buck naked with your eyes, nearly tackled in the hallway and had carnal
knowledge with on the spot. The one you're married to."

"Oh, that man."

Dixie shifted her weight to one leg and folded her arms. "Yeah, that
one." She peered at BJ. "You're sort of run-down. Bet I know something,
and somebody, that can pump you right up? Having the boys around putting
a crimp in your social life?"

196

"There is no social life. Remember, this isn't a-"

"Real marriage. So you keep saying, and I keep hoping you're wrong,
because from what I've seen it sure seems real to me. No arguing between
you two and a lot more heat. If there was any more heat this place would
combust."

"Flynn's leaving Whistlers Bend, Dixie. He's not staying and I can't ask
him to." She waved her hand through the air. "The past two weeks this
place is more like LAX than romance central, so you can forget all about
heat."

"You didn't." Dixie put on her sassy grin. "My guess is you love him.
Why else would you even think about asking him to hang around? When are
you going to admit it?"

"Okay, okay, what if I do love him? It's one-sided, and that amounts to
nothing. The man loves the army. That's his life. Always has been,
always will be. I would never ask him to change. He wouldn't be happy."
BJ gave her a toothy grin she hoped didn't appear too fake. "And that's
just fine with me. I got the boys. What more do I need?"

"Sex."

Kean tapped on the window. "Hi, Doc, Dixie."

If he'd heard the sex comment she'd die. Instead, Kean said to BJ, "We
almost have the design for the addition finished. I'm here to
double-check measurements. When you get a chance, can you tell me about
that swing set you want for the boys, and where we should build it, and
if you and Flynn aren't having sex you're both idiots?"

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BJ exchanged oh, hell looks with Dixie as Kean left and Flynn and the
boys trotted down the hallway from the upstairs.

Flynn greeted Dixie, then said to BJ, "I'm taking the boys to your
mother's now."

"Tell her to call if there are any problems." She studied the boys and
beamed. "Oh, my, you're both so handsome in your new suits. Petey, no
cake or candy. I don't care how good you think it is. Grandma Fairmont
can take care of you."

She kissed the boys, then Flynn clapped their hands and made for the
door. She glanced back to Dixie. "You seem worried, kind of pale and
concerned. Are you okay?"

Dixie brightened, though the smile seemed forced. She twitched her hips
and fluffed her bob. "Are you kidding? I'm hot and sexy as always. Just
ask the boys at the cafe". I'm keeping them on their toes. You know
me-never a sick day in my life. Just thought I'd stop over before my
evening shift at the Sage and see how you were holding up. You and Flynn
come by for dinner." She winked. "Unless you have other plans for your
evening alone. Wine, Brie, thee."

"There is no thee!"

"There sure was a thee weeks ago."

"Well, not now."

Dixie left and BJ showed Kean where to put the wooden swing and how she
wanted the addition connected to the main house, with a glassed-in
breezeway instead of just a walkway. She also wanted more windows across
the back so she could keep an eye on the

198

boys playing, and maybe a tree house in the big oak by the compost pile.

After Kean left without further reference to her sex life, thank
heavens, she went back inside, drained to the core, and sat at the
counter by the window. Tea might help her feel better. Herbal. The
thought of caffeine made her insides crawl. She nuked a cup, drank half
and felt sick. She headed upstairs for the bathroom and promptly lost it
and the crackers she'd eaten earlier.

"BJ," Flynn said, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Kneeling in the bathroom is a new hobby?" He handed her a wet towel and
glass of water.

"Just ate something that didn't agree with me." She sat on the edge of
the tub, took a mint from her pocket and put it in her mouth, the flavor
settling her stomach a bit.

"Want to tell me what's really going on here, or do I have to play
Twenty Questions and drive us both nuts?"

"I'm sick. I'll be fine."

"When? You wouldn't be carrying around mints in your pocket if this was
the first time you'd gotten like this."

She put her elbow on her knees, rested her chin in her palm and gazed at
Flynn. "You're going to harass the heck out of me unless I tell you, so
I might as well get this over with. I don't know what's going on. No
fever, no swelling anywhere, no apparent infections. I eat and I get
sick. It comes in waves. I'm okay, then not

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okay, and I feel like a big truck ran over me. I'd say I was pregnant,
but I know that's impossible.

She gave him a sad smile. "Funny, isn't it, the doc can't diagnose her
own ailments."

"Nothing funny about being sick. You've seemed tired, but I chalked it
up to all that's going on. I should have paid more attention."

"I told myself it's nerves, tension, new-mother-itus, except I'm getting
worse, not better, even though we're settling into somewhat of a
routine." She sipped the water.

"What if something's wrong, Flynn? Really wrong, and I'm truly sick? And
now I have Petey and Drew to care for." She raked her fingers through
her hair, worry making her feel worse than ever. "Who's going to care
for the boys, if the prognosis is...?"

She couldn't finish as a huge lump lodged in her throat. He hunkered
down in front of her, took the wet towel from her hand and gently wiped
her face, then tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't cry
on me, Doc. You can yell and argue and throw a holy fit, but don't cry.
You're about the bravest person I've ever met, and if you cry you're
going to scare the hell out of me because I don't know how to make it
right."

She touched his cheek, his chin smooth from a fresh shave, his eyes wise
and kind. His face was more handsome than any man's on earth should be.
"I don't feel brave. I just feel afraid, out of control."

"I'm here and you're allowed to be afraid. Whatever it is, we'll see it
through together. You're not alone. You

200

have your mother, who's incredible with the boys, and FJo pitches in,
and Grandma Mac will always be there. And you have me. We can handle it.
I'm not the kind of guy who runs when things get tough-you can bank on
that. I'll get an extended leave."

"I think you've extended your leave as far as it will go. You're due to
go before an army medical board so they can certify you fit for duty."
She smiled at him, grateful and appreciative. "Whoever thought we'd be
having a conversation like this?"

He cracked a smile. "It's a long way from you putting oatmeal in my
helmet. I'm taking you into Billings, to the hospital." He put his arm
around her shoulders, then under her legs, and hoisted her into his arms
as if she were a rag doll.

She stared at him wide eyed, holding on to his neck and shoulders for
support, amazed how good, how comforted she felt to be here, to have
someone else with her. "I'm not dead yet. I can walk. And I should get
my jacket and purse."

"I'm sure they have your name on file at the hospital, and my jacket's
in the car." He made for the stairs. "Relax-it'll calm your stomach."

"Guess this means I can't drive."

"Doc, I've had enough of your driving to last a lifetime." He trotted
down the steps-something he hadn't been close to doing two weeks ago.

"You're just jealous because I'm a better driver than you are."

He laughed. "Sure you are. Keep telling yourself that if it makes you
feel good."

201

She laid her head on his shoulder, beyond tired. As Flynn had said,
whatever happened she wasn't alone. He was with her, and somehow that
made all the difference in the world.

Flynn paced in the hospital waiting room. He checked his watch again and
swallowed a growl. That nurse who'd brought him here had exactly two
minutes to get back to him, or he was finding B J on his own if he had
to tear the whole damn hospital apart to do it. Why in the hell he had
to leave while they helped her into a gown was beyond him. He was her
husband, dammit. He'd seen it all and then some.

"Mr. Maclntire," the nurse said, "if you follow me I'll take you to your
wife."

When she opened the curtain for him he saw BJ sitting on the edge of the
cot in one of those stupid gowns, bug-eyed and totally stunned. His
insides froze. Dear God, what if he lost BJ?

"Flynn?" She sounded groggy, as if waking from a dream.

He took her hand. "Whatever it is, we'll see this through together, I
swear."

"I believe that now more than ever." She covered his hand with her other
one and scooted over on the cot. "You should sit down."

"That bad?"

"Wouldn't jump right to bad." She motioned beside her. "Sure you don't
want to sit?"

"For God's sake, BJ, just tell me. I can take it. Whatever it is I've
been through worse."

202 Fabulous Husband

"It's not exactly worse. It's closer to different or maybe mysterious or-"

"BJ!"

She held his hands tight. "You're going to be a father. You already are
with Drew and Petey, but-"

"You're.. .pregnant?" He sat down on the cot next to her, his head
spinning. He opened his mouth to say something. Speech, though, was
impossible. Finally, he managed, "I.. .1 thought you getting pregnant
was out of the question."

She shrugged. "Well, we got married so I could have a baby, but I didn't
plan on this."

"So, how did it?" He closed his eyes for a moment to get a grip. "I know
how but.. .how?"

"At my age hormones go a little wacky, can overproduce and... My
med-school prof called it the last fling of the ovary. Not too
technical, but tells it like it is."

She stared at Flynn. "I'm not the first woman to get unexpectedly
pregnant for the first time at forty or even later."

"This is some last fling. I was thinking more like Corvette or Ducati or
climbing Everest." He shook his head to see if he was dreaming. He
wasn't. "Baby?"

She leveled him a hard look. "You don't have to say it like it's the
curse from the Black Lagoon."

"But a baby?"

"No, I'm having a teenager."

He swallowed. "It's a bit of a shock. I hadn't counted on fathering a
child at this stage of my life. Hell, I hadn't counted on it, period.
Doesn't exactly fit in with-"

203

203

She stood in front of him and glared. "Well, we wouldn't want to
inconvenience the mighty Colonel Maclntire and not have something fit in
with his life, now, would we?"

"I didn't mean it that way."

She peered at him through lowered lids. "Yes, you did. You just said so.
But don't worry about a thing. The baby and I and the boys will manage
quite well without you. In fact, we'll be flipping terrific."

She whipped the curtain back, nearly tearing it from the rod, then
pointed a stiff finger down the hallway. "Out."

"I'm not leaving you," he said as a nurse came by and told them to keep
it down.

"Yes, you are," BJ insisted, not keeping it down at all and jabbing her
finger again. "Because I'm surely not riding with you. You might be
inconvenienced. "

"This is taking a little getting used to, that's all."

"Don't bother. I'll call Mother. She's in town and can pick me up."

Flynn slid off the cot. "You're upset. Probably a hormone thing."

"Keep talking like that and you'll be a dead thing."

"I'll care for the baby. Settle down, okay? I can certainly afford to do-"

"Money ? " Her voice rose to nearly a screech and the nurse was back
with another warning. BJ ignored her and continued. "You're concerned
about the money?"

"No, no. Bad choice of word." He held up his hands in defense. He'd been
in firefights that were less problematic than this. "I don't mind a
baby, BJ."

204

The nurse shook her head at him. "How long you been married?"

"Not long enough," he said.

"I've wanted a baby for fifteen years," BJ snarled. "Fifteen. Would have
married the cretin from hell just to have a baby. You don't have to mind
anything, Colonel Flynn Maclntire."

She pulled herself up tall, her nipples poking through the gown, making
him remember better times. But they sure weren 't better now.

"We're getting a divorce, and the sooner the better. The boys will have
to deal. You being all pissy over this pregnancy isn't good for them or me."

"You're being melodramatic, blowing what I said way out of proportion."

"I'll raise the children, and you don't have to trouble yourself one bit."

"You tell him, girl," the nurse encouraged as she passed again.

"Thanks a lot," Flynn said to the nurse, then said to BJ, "I was shocked
all to hell and back. I didn't choose my words wisely. The baby's-"

"Out!" BJ jabbed her finger one more time.

"Be reasonable. I can drive you-"

"You can drive me nowhere. I'll get to Whistlers Bend on my own-"

"I'll call you a cab," the nurse offered in a huff.

B J ignored her. "And you can move back to the Maclntire home, the army
or straight to hell, but you are not planting your sorry,
I-don't-want-to-be-inconvenienced butt in my house again."

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205

Flynn put his hands to his hip, furrowed his brow and lowered his voice.
"I apologize for not being more supportive. Having a baby is fine, and
I'll sleep where I want and when I want. You came here with me-you're
leaving with me. I'm taking care of you, I'm taking care of our baby and
the boys, and that's the end of this discussion."

She tossed her head, her golden hair flying. "Is that an order, Colonel?"

"You bet your sweet ass it is." He glared at the nurse. Then he flipped
his jacket around BJ, covering her backside, and scooped her up into his
arms.

"Put me down!"

"As soon as we get to the car." He strode toward the exit, the people in
the lobby parting like the Red Sea.

"What about her clothes?" the nurse asked.

"Mail 'em."

"Should I phone security?"

"No." BJ folded her arms and stared straight ahead. "The Bear is in a
mood and it's best not to poke him."

"Good call, Fairmont," Flynn said as he kicked open the door.

"I'll get you for this, Maclntire."

"I'm sure you will, but right now we do things my way."

206

An hour later, as she sat in the passenger seat next to Flynn, B J was
still seething. She really was a much better driver. How could he not
see that? He rounded the corner to her house and slowed. "Holy hell," he
said. 'The place is lit up like the electricity company just moved in.
What in the world is going on this time?"

BJ bolted up. "Petey?"

"I have my cell. Someone would have contacted us."

Before Flynn came to a complete stop, she opened the car door and ran up
the garden walkway to the house, Flynn in hot pursuit behind her. She
went in and tore down the hall-and spotted Dixie and Maggie at the
kitchen table, drinking from mugs.

"What's going on?" BJ panted.

They looked at each other, then BJ, and raised their eyebrows. Maggie
said, "You're dressed in a hospital gown, barefoot and in Flynn's army
jacket and you're asking us what's going on?"

She grabbed the jacket closed around her. "Where are the boys?"

207

207

"Upstairs. Both fine," Maggie said. "They're packing," Dixie added.
"Margaret's helping. You and Flynn better sit down."

"I'm beginning to really hate that suggestion," he said. He studied
Maggie. "Why is there an iron skillet in front of you?" He eyed Dixie.
"Is that a camouflage shirt and pants you have on?"

Dixie fluffed her collar and batted her eyes. "You know I always dress
for the occasion." Maggie picked up the skillet and tested the feel in
one hand, then the other. "Chased Jack around the kitchen with it once."

BJ braced her arms on the table. "If I don't get answers in one second
I'll be the one chasing with the frying pan."

Maggie glanced at Flynn. "Has she been like this all night?"

Flynn sighed. "You have no idea."

Maggie said, "Two strangers at the diner were asking about a little boy,
seven or eight, with brown hair and brown eyes, who likes to play at the
old depot. They must have realized Dixie was onto them, because they ran
off before Jack showed up. We thought it best to tell Margaret what was
going on, and Jack sent Roy to get her and the boys in Billings. Jack
suggested taking the boys out of town till this was over, though we're
really not sure what this is."

Dixie knocked Maggie's pan with her knuckles. "Jack and Roy are casing
the area, so we're on guard duty. Your mother's taking the boys to
Martha's Vineyard-flying out tomorrow afternoon. One of her friends has
a summer home on the island."

208

BJ groused, "And no one bothered to call either Flynn or me with this
tidbit of info because... ?"

Dixie winked. "Hey, we got it covered." She smirked. "And you barely
do," she said on a giggle. "And we figured you and Flynn had gone out
for a little quality time. Don't suppose you want to tell us about this
quality-time gown you're sporting? A little dress-up? I got to tell you
there are much better outfits out there. You can borrow my French maid's
outfit."

BJ, Maggie and Flynn stared at Dixie. "Fr-French maid?" Maggie
stammered. "How do you know?"

Margaret came into the kitchen. "Hello, my de-" She stopped dead and
stared at her daughter. "Barbara Jean? Have you completely lost your
mind? Why are you dressed like.. .like that?"

A wicked gleam suddenly brightened her green eyes, an expression BJ had
never seen on her completely proper mother before. "Wanting something a
little out of the ordinary, perhaps? Oh, my, marriage can be fun. How I
miss those times," she said on a sigh. "Next time you should consider a
French maid's outfit."

BJ huffed, "Is the whole world sex crazy?"

Margaret shrugged. "Some people think money rules the world. They're
wrong, dear. It's sex. I should have told you."

"Flynn, BJ," Drew called. His and Petey's footsteps clambered down the
hall. The boys tumbled into the kitchen. "Grandma Fairmont's taking us
to visit Louis and see the Yankees and eat peanuts and hot dogs."

Petey spread his arms wide and made engine sounds as he glided around
the kitchen. "We're going to fly on

209

209

a big airplane and eat pretzels out of little bags." He stopped when he
got to BJ, and his eyes grew large. "Why are you dressed in Flynn's
jacket again? It's not Halloween, is it?"

She kissed Petey's head and hunkered down beside Drew, thankful Flynn's
jacket fell below her behind. "Can you do something for me, something
very important? I want you to think about the day you ran away."

"Do I have to? I don't want to think about that. I want to think about
the ocean and seeing the Yankees."

Flynn squatted beside her. "This will help Sheriff Jack."

Drew pulled himself up straight. "It's my duty to help the sheriff, even
if I don't w4nt to, is that right?"

Flynn nodded. 'Tell us again about the trucks and the depot. Did the
drivers see you?"

Drew bit his bottom lip. "Maybe."

BJ felt every bone in her body go to jelly. "We're not mad that you ran
away. It's all over with now. You have to tell us what you saw."

"I didn't tell you before 'cause I didn't want you to be mad and not
adopt me and Petey. The men saw me, but I ran and hid in the cave. They
didn't find me 'cause they didn't know where to look, and they were in a
big hurry and said they'd come back later. I didn't see what they were
doing 'cause I was hiding. I was afraid."

Flynn mussed Drew's hair. "That was real good, Drew. You did great. And
you don't have to be afraid anymore because we're all here to take care
of you."

Margaret said to Flynn, a trace of concern in her voice, "And now that
you're here we can leave home-

210

land security in your most capable military hands, for which I am
terribly grateful." She patted his arm.

Flynn said to her, "I'll drive you and the boys to the airport in
Billings just to make sure everything's okay."

She eyed her daughter. "Not BJ?"

"I have office hours."

Margaret winked at Flynn.

"Hey," BJ said. "I saw that."

"I'll tuck the boys in," Flynn said as he corralled them toward the stairs.

"I'll walk you out." BJ headed toward the door and Margaret quirked her
left eyebrow. "In that attire? An army jacket and bare legs?"

"It's dark, Mother. No one will see, and if they do it will give them
all something to gossip over."

Margaret sighed. "Since you and Flynn married, this town has enough
gossip to keep it churning for a very long time. Must we add more?"

Dixie chuckled. "I should do a column in the Whistle Stop on what you
all are up to over here. Always wanted to be a reporter."

"Oh, no, you don't." BJ shook her head. "What would the Sage and all of
us do without you to get us food?" She hooked her arm through her
mother's and Dixie's. Maggie handed Dixie the skillet, snagged her
crutches and followed her out into the garden. BJ stopped by the little
fountain, the moon reflecting in the still water, a gazillion stars
overhead.

"I'm not making the same mistake I did about the wedding. I'm pregnant.
Barely, but pregnant all the same."

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Margaret gasped, then laughed, "Well, it's about time. I couldn't be
happier."

Dixie clapped her hands. "Finally, you'll be fatter than me. I am so
looking forward to this."

Maggie sucked in a deep breath. "Holy cow, what does Flynn have to say?"

"He's less than thrilled."

Margaret hugged BJ. "He'll come around, dear. The good ones always do,
and Flynn Maclntire is indeed one of those. He's just a little concerned
over all that's happened. He has a lot of responsibility now. A wife and
three kids in less than a month? That's enough to send any man running
for the hills. But Flynn didn't, did he. In fact, he's upstairs tucking
two of those reasons into bed as we speak." She laughed. "He reminds me
of your father in a lot of ways. Good to have a man around again."

BJ knew she must look as if she'd been shot from a cannon. "You're
right. I haven't been fair to Flynn. I kind of went a little crazy at
the hospital. I don't know what I was thinking."

Margaret gave her a mother's smile. "You're thinking everyone's been
waiting to get pregnant for years and years. Believe me, they haven't.
Especially an army colonel. Patch things up. You have children to
consider who really love Flynn. He's a keeper."

Margaret kissed her, she shared hugs with Dixie and Maggie, then watched
them walk down the garden path toward the gate that would soon be gone.

And that was okay. She'd gotten what she'd wanted and so much more.
Flynn hadn't. He'd gotten pretty

212

well screwed in the deal. She grinned. Actually, she'd been the one
who'd gotten well screwed.

Flynn hadn't wanted any of this. He wanted back in the army. She owed
him an apology, and, most important, she owed him a way out of all this.

She went back into the kitchen and found Flynn in front of the open
fridge. She scurried on by, checked on the boys, who were already
asleep, then changed into her pink sweatsuit. She tugged out the top
part and gazed in the mirror. Barbara Jean Fairmont pregnant. How great
was that?

Plenty great. And that Flynn was the father made her happier than she'd
ever dreamed. What a gene pool! The past two weeks of them all together
had been hectic, but a good hectic-at least in her book. And now it was
over and she had to let Flynn go; it was time for him to move on.

Her heart suddenly felt as though someone had squeezed the life right
out of it, and she sat on the edge of the bed. She picked up Flynn's
jacket that she'd just taken off and inhaled the inside, inhaling Flynn,
then held his field jacket tight to her and buried her face in the soft
material.

She'd miss him. She'd miss his common sense and determination, and his
sparring with her and teasing her about her driving.

No one got to her like Flynn...on more levels than one. She'd miss
feeling safe and secure with him. She'd miss his laundry in with hers,
his dishes in with hers, and she'd sure miss the sex.

Except it was more than sex. They'd made love,

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wonderful meaningful love. Sex was taking what you wanted with no regard
for the partner. Neither of them did that.

God, she loved him. From the bottom of her soul and deep in her heart,
she loved this man she'd shared so much with and who'd shared so much of
himself with her.

She put down his jacket and forbade herself to cry over losing him.
She'd had him for a little while and she had his baby. That was more
than she'd ever thought possible. She went down to the kitchen. He'd set
two places at the table, and chicken soup simmered on the stove-the
smell of home. Things wouldn't be the same when Flynn left.

But if he stayed he wouldn't be the man she knew and admired and loved.
He'd change. She never wanted him to change. As much as she hated it, as
much as she didn't want to, she had to get rid of Flynn Maclntire!

Good grief. That was how she'd gotten into this!

She squared her shoulders and prepared for battle. With his baby on the
way, getting rid of him would be a battle and a half. Well, she might
not be a tank commander, but she intended to win. She had to for his sake.

"Smells great," she said as she walked in with a big smile. "You cook
around here as much as I do."

"Except I have no idea what pregnant women eat, so I winged it." He had
a towel around his middle and a concerned glint in his eyes as he set a
plate of sandwiches on the table.

"Pretzels are good."

214

"The nutritional value of salted wood. Can you tolerate sliced turkey on
plain bread, no condiments, and chicken soup from a package, no fat?
It's all I could come up with from what we have in the pantry."

We. She loved the sound of we.

"How about Peeps? Peeps are in the pantry. I have purple ones left."

He leveled her a get-real look.

"Right. Peeps for dessert. Sandwich and soup for now. Thanks for
rounding up some food-I'm starved."

She sat across from him and planned her attack. She needed to smooth the
waters before she stirred them up again.

"I want you to believe that I'm sorry I was such a pain at the hospital.
1 just imagine everyone's supposed to be as wild as I am over this baby.
But I can understand why you're not. This isn't your dream-it's mine.
Since the boys have gone with Mother, this will give us a perfect
opportunity to set the divorce in motion and get you back in the army.
That was the agreement."

He stared at her as if she'd sprouted another head. Guess she shouldn't
have fired all her guns at once. "You're pregnant with my child. When
the boys are adopted my name will be on that form, too. You can forget
divorce."

She shook her head. "I got you into this kid situation. It wasn't your
choosing. The marriage has / trapped Flynn Maclntire stamped all over it
and that's no marriage at all. We said we'd divorce when I got the
baby." She held up her hands. "Ta-da. Baby!"

Flynn leaned across the table, eyes steely, jaw set,

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215

and stage-whispered through clenched teeth, "And I'm just supposed to
walk away from my child?"

"I'm putting on an addition. I'm the town doctor. Our child will be here
anytime you want to show up. I have phone, fax, e-mail. There's no
reason not to carry out the original plan and you leave. You can always
come back." She dug into the soup. "Gee, this is really good."

He sat perfectly still, then finally said, "I get no voice in this?"

She shook her head. "You already did about a month ago when all this
started and the arrangement was to divorce."

He picked up a sandwich. "I'm not divorcing you, BJ."

"Being in a trapped marriage is what you want? Oh, that's a great way to
raise kids. You'll resent me, resent them and resent us. Because there
should be no us."

She bit into her sandwich and sat back and looked at him. "You're free,
Flynn. You get what you want, the army, and I get what I want, children.
No one loses. We all win. Your soup's getting cold."

"I don't give a flying fig about the soup, but nothing about this is
honorable."

"You can't marry out of honor. It takes more than that these days. It
won't work for either of us and there's no reason you have to be around
all the time to raise our child. I have an incredible support group. I'm
financially well-off, intelligent. I'm older-not some twenty-something
twit who goes wacko over the sniffles. I got the kids and my life
covered. Go."

"And I'm the sperm donor."

216

She rolled her shoulders. "Well, you're a very good sperm donor.
Handsome, smart, brave. You like sports, but everyone has some flaws."

His eyes got beady; steam curled from his head. "You really believe you
can do it all."

"I'm a woman of the twenty-first century. Of course I can do it all. And
I'll get help."

He stood and glared. "And you don't need me."

She chewed on her bottom lip, then brightened. "Hey, you make a really
great sandwich."

217

He put his palms flat on the table, braced his arms and leaned her way.
"I'm going to the Cut Loose and have a beer with the other sperm donors.
This isn't over, Doc, but arguing with a pregnant woman isn't good for
you or the baby. You need to know the divorce won't happen."

"What if I just file?"

"On what grounds?"

"I don't know-I'm not a lawyer. But there's got to be something out
there. Irreconcilable driving differences sounds good."

He rounded the table, brought his hungry lips to hers and kissed her..
.and she kissed him back, because when it came to Flynn Maclntire, she
was nothing but a slut and good intentions went right out the window.

How could she insist on divorce one minute and lap up his kisses the next?

His smoldering blue eyes met hers. "That is not the kiss of a woman
wanting a divorce."

"So I'm in it for the sex?"

218

"Sex works. And we have children."

"Not enough. Not for me." It was time to end this episode in her life
and quit playing around. The mature, logical, intelligent way to end
this was honesty.

She put down her sandwich, stood and looked him in the eyes. "Okay, here
it is, the truth. No more games or smart-ass cracks. I love you-have
since high school-and our month together was the best month of my life.
But none of this matters because you don't love me-you love the army.
That's not a criticism or a complaint. It's a fact. I can live with it,
but I cannot stay married to you, because of it. That would not be
honorable. I don't want to live a lie, Flynn, and neither do you. This
is over. We're over as a couple."

She kissed him on the cheek, aware of the stunned expression on his
face, and continued. "You know I'm right. This will all work out because
we're friends, very good friends, and we're intelligent mature
responsible adults who will do whatever it takes to raise happy healthy,
well-adjusted children."

She added, "Well, I'm glad that's over. Now, you can go have your beer
and I'm getting a shower and then off to bed. The boys will be up at the
crack of dawn, bursting with excitement and more energy than I've ever
had in my life."

She walked into the hall, leaving Flynn alone in the kitchen. She felt
relieved, but also more depressed than she'd ever had been. Not exactly
the perfect ending to their nonmarriage, but an end nonetheless, and
that was what really mattered.

219

219

The next morning BJ waved to the boys, Margaret and Flynn as they drove
off in Margaret's minivan. Never had she expected to see Flynn Maclntire
behind the wheel of a minivan. It didn't seem to bother him, but it sure
shocked the heck out of her. They hadn't talked since last night, and
that was good. Everything was settled. She'd get over him. Actually, she
wouldn't. She'd just learn to live without him.

"Call me," she yelled after them, and waved again to the boys. She hated
to see them go, but their leaving was the safest thing to do. Flynn
tooted the horn and waved back as she watched the van round the corner
onto Main. What a morning.

She went back inside and rifled through her files. Flo came in and
stopped dead. BJ could feel her stare boring into her back. "If you
start doing the office work around here, guess I'll have to take over
doctoring."

"What did I do with Flynn's file? I had it out last night. I was working
on it, and now I don't know what in the world I did with it."

Flo snagged it off the desktop and held it out. "You mean this file?"

"I've got pregnancy meltdown."

"Honey, what you got is Flynn Maclntire meltdown. I'm suspecting you've
had it for years and years and it's getting worse and worse."

BJ opened the file and pulled out her notes. "Last night I told him I
loved him and I wanted a divorce, and now I'm going to make him want it
as much as I do."

"You love him and you want a divorce. Gee, that

220

makes sense." She nodded at the chair behind the desk. "Maybe you should
sit down."

"I'm fine."

"All I know is you and Flynn got a baby on the way, and that man's going
to stay married to you for that reason alone unless you take up with
somebody else-and I sure can't see that happening."

"Not me, but what about Flynn. What if he takes up with someone?" She
closed the file and held it up. "Like the U.S. army."

"Can't curl up with a tank at the end of the day."

BJ ignored the remark. "I'm going to call Fort Carson and confirm that
appointment Flynn has with the medical board to get him authorized^r/or
duty. I'll fly there today, talk to them doctor to doctor and turn over
his records so there aren't any glitches. Then I'll tell Flynn he has
the appointment, make it sound as if the army instigated it. He'll go,
see all those tanks and uniforms and jeeps and military paraphernalia
and remember how much he loves it and how he wants his old life back and
divorce is the answer."

"You want to divorce Flynn that bad?"

BJ's heart felt like a piece of concrete in her chest. Her shoulders
sagged along with her bravado. "I love him. I want him free, Flo. I want
him to do what he wants and be the man he's meant to be, and he can't do
that with a wife and kids at home and him worrying about us."

"A lot of other couples do it."

She gripped Flo's hand. "Because they love each other and they make
their marriage work. Their love is

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221

the key. Flynn wants to stay together out of obligation. I don't want to
be an obligation. I don't have to be. With help I am more than capable
of taking care of myself, my children and this town."

She gestured at her office. "This is my life. I wouldn't want to be
trapped in the army. How could I let Flynn be trapped in Whistlers Bend
in a doctor's office? Besides, he'll always feel this wasn't his
decision so much as something thrust upon him."

She nodded and picked up the phone. "I've given this a lot of thought.
It will work."

Flo's mouth dropped. "The trouble is, I think you're right."

Flynn made his way up the garden path and into the office. He glanced
around at the emptiness. "Hey, Flo. Where is everyone? Thought the doc
had office hours."

Flo put down the phone. "She did. I had to reschedule them all. Do you
know how cranky people get when I reschedule? It's more that they'll
miss their turn at gossip ground zero."

Flynn's eyes widened. "BJ's that sick that she can't do appointments?"

"Not exactly." Flo drummed her fingers on the desktop. "I'm supposed to
tell you she's at the hospital about a patient, which isn't a lie. But
she's not in Billings at the hospital-she's in Fort Carson, Colorado,
and the patient is you."

If Flo had smacked him upside the head with a stethoscope he couldn't
have been more surprised. "You want to run that by me again?"

222

"She's on a mission, Colonel. Flew off to meet with the doctors at Fort
Carson to help get you reinstated for active duty. Her great plan is
you'll realize how much you love the army and divorce her because you
don't want to be tied down to a wife and kids."

"She told you that."

"Yep. 'Course, she didn't expect me to tell you, but you have a right to
know."

Flo leaned back in her chair and studied him as if she'd caught him in
the crosshair of a rifle. "The real question to you, Colonel, is do you
want her to get her way? I figure that pretty much depends on if you
love her or if you don't."

"Love her? Love her? Ah, damn."

Flo sat up straight, ready to get back to work as usual. "Guess that
means she's right and you two divorce."

"I didn't say that."

"Well, I sure as heck didn't hear a pledge of undying love, either."

Flynn held up his hands. "I mean damn that I didn't realize before now
that I love her. I thought about this all night and all the way back
from the airport. I can't imagine living without BJ. She's my partner,
my friend, my-"

"Wife?" Flo gave him a cocky grin.

"Yeah, my wife." He gave her a cocky grin in return. "I don't want to
lose her."

He hitched his chin toward the rest of the house. "I don't want to lose
all this. The kids, the chaos, the meals together. All of us piling into
the car-hopefully with

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223

me driving-running off for ice cream or fishing. Ever see BJ bait a
hook?" He chuckled. "She's priceless."

"Sounds like true love to me. Getting BJ to put a worm on a hook is
something else and you believing she's the best makes it a done deal.
Problem is, Colonel Macln-tire, you're telling all this good stuff to
the wrong gal."

He pulled his wallet from his pocket and slid out a phone number. A
small photo fell to the desk.

Flo picked it up. "Whose baby?"

"When BJ wanted to adopt a Third-World child I contacted a missionary
I'd become friends with and he sent me the picture. The baby's an
orphan, but then we got the boys, and now BJ's pregnant." He took the
photo from Flo and stuck it back in his wallet.

"You should tell BJ, Flynn."

"Four kids?" He chuckled. "That's a lot of kids." He dialed.

"You're calling her?"

"The hospital at Fort Carson. I'll have the staff stall a certain doctor
till I can get there and straighten things out. I've got to win the
battle and the war, and I'm just not sure how to do it."

"You're an army man. You'll figure it out."

He connected with the hospital and pleaded his case, then jogged
upstairs. After stuffing sweats and gym shoes into a duffel, he got in
his car, got his uniform from Grandma Mac's and headed for the airport.
First, he had to pass that damn physical for the medical board. After
that, he had to figure out how to make things work between him and BJ.
He didn't have a clue. But something would come to him.

224

BJ stared AT THE New England Journal of Medicine. She'd already read it
at her own office, and now she'd darn near memorized it cover to cover
at another doctor's office. What could be taking this-she looked at the
nameplate on the desk-Dr. Bradford so long? She'd been waiting here for
three hours.

He needed to redecorate. What a boring place. Gray and brown everything.
Even the picture of the Pentagon on the far wall was gray. Did these
people ever hear of teal, mauve, sage, burgundy? Burgundy would be good,
and some plants. This room cried out for plants.

A knock came at the door and a pretty, young woman in army clothes came
in. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Dr. Bradford has-"

"An emergency. I understand. But perhaps I could speak to another doctor
on the fitness board. I won't take much time."

She smiled sweetly, too sweetly. "Having other doctors visit our staff
on behalf of a soldier is a bit out of the ordinary, and the board
wasn't prepared to see you. Would you care for something to eat?"

BJ nodded. "A plain cheese sandwich would be wonderful, if it's not too
much trouble."

"Of course, ma'am. Anything for a friend of the colonel's."

"You know Colonel Maclntire?"

She blushed. "Everybody knows Colonel Maclntire, ma'am." She closed the
door behind her.

What the heck did young soldier perky-boobs mean by that? As much as BJ
didn't want it to, jealousy

225

225

crawled up her spine and she felt her eyes get beady and probably turn
greener. She said in a juvenile singsong voice, "Everybody knows Colonel
Maclntire, ma'am."

"Not everybody," said Flynn from behind her.

She spun around. "For someone so darn big you sure move quiet."

"That's the plan."

Her breath caught. "You're in uniform. You're never in uniform."

"This isn't Whistlers Bend."

He seemed very much in command of the situation. And she'd just
interfered in his business. Not good. "What.. .what are you here for?"

"That's my line."

How was she going to get out of this? What should she tell him? Think,
BJ. Think. "You'd look much better in blue or a nice turquoise than in
this mix of greens and browns and-is that a blob of black on your thigh?"

He arched his very commanding eyebrow. "BJ?"

Busted. "How'd you know I was here?"

"Domestic intel."

"That's army talk for-"

"Flo. She ratted you out."

"Well, that does it. She's fired."

"You can't fire her. You couldn't run the place without her. Are you
going to tell me why you're here or not?"

BJ shrugged. "I'm sure domestic intel already told you, so let's not get
redundant. But the dear doctors around this establishment seem to be too
busy to talk to me so, my great plan was for nothing."

226

"They were busy."

"Flynn, all doctors are busy. Three hours is a little excessive."

"They were busy with a patient. Me."

She slowly smiled. "Really? Did you do it? Are you in?"

"Have to wait for the official word, but I'd say so."

She flung herself into his arms. "Oh, I'm so happy for you. I really am."

She felt his hands slide around her back and hold her tight, as though
he meant it, as though he wanted her there. But that was too bad,
because as a couple they were over. She held on for a moment longer,
remembering him, not quite ready to give him up. Who was she kidding?
She'd never be ready. "So, that's it." She gave him a sincere smile.
"You're off to some new front, and I'll see you whenever."

"That's not a good plan, Doc."

"Let's not argue. I'm not up to it, okay? You belong right where you
are, wearing really bad colors, but you're happy about it, so that's
fine. Let's not try to change what's obviously the right thing to do."

"I love you."

"No, you don't. You're just happy because you're back in the army, and
you don't want to disappoint me because you know I love you. That's the
way you are. Always saving everyone." She touched his cheek. "No need to
this time, Colonel Maclntire. I'm already fine."

"I'm not in love with you to make you happy. I'm in love with you
because it makes me happy."

"It'll fade-temporary condition brought on by a

227

burst of euphoria. I'm sure it has a medical name. I just can't remember
it."

"Take two aspirin and I'll be fine?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a beer with your buddies."

He picked her up at her waist and set her on the edge of the doctor's
desk, knocking the nameplate over. "You're going to listen to me,
Barbara Jean Fairmont. I love you because you're beautiful and smart and
selfless and nurturing and responsible and a whole raft of other things."

"Like, I'm the mother of your child and you can't get beyond that."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "And I don't want to get
beyond it. I'm thrilled you're having our baby, but those aren't the
only reasons I love you." His eyes darkened; a soft smile spread across
his wonderful lips. "You saved me, BJ. Before we married all I could
imagine was war and dying and the battlefield. I couldn't get beyond it.
I have other times, but not this time. It haunted me, day and night.
Then you came along."

"And I haunted you?"

His smile grew. "Yeah, you haunted me and then you mesmerized me and you
charmed me. You're in my life now, and the boys and our home. I'll never
forget the men who served with me and especially the ones who lost their
lives, but now I have you. I love you. You're the world to me."

She bit her bottom lip, afraid she was dreaming. "Me?"

228

"You. I want to be with you, always."

She framed his face in her palms. "You're an army man through and
through, Flynn. You don't belong in Whistlers Bend any more than I
belong here with soldier perky-boobs."

His eyebrows rose. "Who?"

"Not important. What is, is that you can't give up the army. "

"And I'm not. At least, not yet. Fort Harrison in Helena is being
reconfigured into an army Combat Training Center. I can't commute from
Whistlers Bend, but I can do most weekends and I get leave. You'll see a
lot more of me."

"I want this to work and you want this to work, but you've always been
on the front lines, Flynn. You've been all over the world. That's what
you do. You go off and fight battles and lead men and women to defend
our country. I respect that and I don't intend for you to change."

"I'd like more in my life than living out of a duffel bag, BJ."

"You'd like a Ducati."

He grinned. "I want, a home, kids, you." He kissed her. "If you'll have
me, boring uniform and all." He reached into his pocket. "Besides, I
have Peeps. Can you say no to a man who brings you Peeps?"

She laughed, then cried. "I've dreamed of this."

"We can do this, Doc. We can make this work."

"Colonel Flynn Maclntire, you are a fabulous husband. Together we can do
anything."

229 Welcome to the world of American Romance!

Turn the page for excerpts from our

November 2005 titles.

CINDERELLA CHRISTMAS by Shelley Galloway

BREAKFAST WITH SANTA by Pamela Browning

HOUDAY HOMECOMING by Mary Anne Wilson

Also, watch for a new anthology,

CHRISTMAS, TEXAS STYLE,

which features three fun and warmhearted holiday

stories by three of your favorite American Romance

authors, Tina Leonard, Leah Vale and Linda Warren.

Let these stories show you what it's like to celebrate

Christmas down on the ranch.

We hope you 'II enjoy every one of these books!

230

231 We're thrilled to introduce a brand-new author to

American Romance! Prepare yourself to be pulled in

by Shelley Galloway's characters, who you'll just

love. Cinderella Christmas is a charming tale of a

woman whose need for a particular pair of shoes

starts a chain of events worthy not only of a

Cinderella story, but of a fairy tale touched with

the magic of Christmas.

232

233 Oh, the shoes were on sale now. The beautiful shoes with the three
gold straps, the four-inch heel and not much else. The shoes that would
show off a professional pedicure and the fine arch of her foot, and
would set off an ivory lace gown to perfection.

Of course, to pull off an outfit like that, she would need to have the
right kind of jewelry, Brooke Anne thought as she stared at the display
through the high-class shop window. Nothing too bold.. .perhaps a simple
diamond tennis bracelet and one-carat studs? Yes, that would lend an air
of sophistication. Not too dramatic, but enough to let the outfit speak
for itself. Elegance. Refinement. Money.

Hmm. And an elaborate updo for her hair. Something extravagant, to set
off her gray eyes and high cheekbones. Something to give herself the
illusion of height she so desperately needed. It was hard to look
statuesque when you were five-foot-two.

But none of that would matter when she stepped out on the dance floor.
Her date would hold her tightly and

234 Cinderella Christmas

twirl her around and around. She would balance on the pad of her foot as
they maneuvered carefully around the floor. She would put all those
dancing lessons to good use, and her date would be impressed that she
could waltz with ease. They would glide through the motions, twirling,
dipping, stepping together. Other dancers would stay out of their way.

No, no one would be in the way...they would have already moved aside to
watch the incredible display of footwork, the vision of two bodies in
perfect harmony, moving in step, gliding in precise motion. They would
stare at the striking woman, wearing the most beautiful, decadent
shoes...shoes that would probably only last one evening, they were so
fragile.

She would look like a modern-day Mona Lisa-with blond hair and gray
eyes, though. And short. She would be a short Mona Lisa. But, still
graceful.

But that wouldn't matter, because she would have on the most spectacular
shoes that she'd ever seen. She'd feel like.. .magic.

"May I help you?"

Brooke Anne simply stared at the slim, elegant salesman who appeared
beside her. "Pardon?"

He pursed his lips, then spoke again. "Miss, do you need any help? I
noticed that you've been looking in the window for a few minutes."

"No...thanks."

With a twinge of humor, Brooke Anne glanced in the window again, this
time to catch the reflection staring back at her. Here she was, devoid
of makeup, her hair pulled back in a hurried ponytail, dressed in old jeans

235 Shelley Galloway 235

and a sweatshirt that was emblazoned with Jovial Janitor Service. And
her shoes.. .she was wearing old tennis shoes.

236

237 Pamela Browning has eaten breakfast with Santa.

It was a pancake breakfast fund-raiser for charity,

exactly like the one in her book, and she attended

dressed as Big Bird. She thought she 'd be able to

relax with a big plate of pancakes after leading the

kids in songs from "Sesame Street," but some of the

more thoughtful children had prepared her a plate

of-you guessed it-birdseed. When she's not

dressing as an eight-foot-tall bird, Pam spends her

time canoeing, taking Latin-dance lessons and, lately,

rebuilding her hurricane-damaged house.

238

239 Bah, humbug!

The Santa suit was too short.

Tom Collyer stared in dismay at his wrists, protruding from the
fur-trimmed red plush sleeves. He'd get Leanne for this someday. There
was a limit to how much a big brother should do for a sister.

The pancake breakfast was the Bigbee County, Texas, event of the year
for little kids, and when Leanne had asked him to participate in this
year's fund-raiser for the Homemakers' Club, he hadn't taken her
seriously. He was newly home from his stint in the Marine Corps, and he
hadn't yet adjusted his thinking back to Texas Hill Country standards.
But his brother-in-law, Leanne's husband, had come down with an untimely
case of the flu, and Tom had been roped into the Santa

gig-He peered out of the closet at the one hundred kids running around
the Farish Township volunteer fire department headquarters, which was
where they held these blamed breakfasts every year. One of the boys was

240

Breakfast with Santa

hammering another boy's head against the floor, and his mother was
trying to pry them apart. A little girl with long auburn curls stood
wailing in a corner.

Leanne jumped onto a low bench and clapped her hands. "Children, guess
what? It's time to tell Santa Claus what you want for Christmas! Have
you all been good this year?"

"Yes.'" the kids shouted, except for one boy in a blue velvet suit, who
screamed, "No!" A nearby Santa's helper tried to shush him, but he
merely screamed "No!" again. Tom did a double take. The helper, who
resembled the boy so closely that she must be his mother, had long
gleaming wheat-blond hair. It swung over her cheeks when she bent to
talk to the child. Tom let his gaze travel downward, and took in the
high firm breasts under a clinging white sweater, the narrow waist and
gently rounded hips. He was craning his neck for a better assessment of
those attributes when a loudspeaker began playing "Jingle Bells." That
was his cue.

After pulling his pants down to cover his ankles and plumping his
pillow-enhanced stomach to better hide his rangy frame, he drew a deep
breath and strode from the closet.

"Ho-ho-ho!" he said, making his deep voice even deeper. "Merry
Christmas!" As directed, he headed for the elaborate throne on the
platform at one end of the room.

"Santa, Santa," cried several kids.

"Okay, boys and girls, remember that you're supposed to sit at the
tables and eat your breakfast," Leanne instructed. "Santa's helper elves
will come to each table

241

241

in turn to take you to Santa Claus. Remember to smile! An elf will take
your picture when you're sitting on Santa's knee."

Tom brushed away a strand of fluffy white wig hair that was tickling his
face. "Ho-ho-ho!" he boomed again in his deep faux-Santa Claus voice as
he eased his unaccustomed bulk down on the throne and ceremoniously drew
the first kid onto his lap. "What do you want for Christmas, little girl?"

"A brand-new candy-red PT Cruiser with a convertible top and a
turbo-charged engine," she said demurely.

"A car! Isn't that wonderful! Ho-ho-ho!" he said, sliding the kid off
his lap as soon as the male helper elf behind the tripod snapped a
picture. Was he supposed to promise delivery of such extravagant
requests? Tom had no idea.

For the next fifteen minutes or so, Tom listened as kids asked for
Yu-Gi-Oh! cards, Bratz dolls, even a Learjet. He was wondering what on
earth a Crash Team Bandicoot was when he started counting the minutes;
only an hour or so, and he'd be out of there. "Ho-ho-ho!" he said again
and again. "Merry Christmas!"

Out of the corners of his eyes, Tom spotted the kid in the blue velvet
suit approaching. He scanned the crowd for the boy's gorgeous mother,
who was temporarily distracted by a bottle of spilled syrup at one of
the tables.

"Ho-ho-ho!" Tom chortled as a helper elf nudged the kid in the blue suit
toward him. And when the kid hurled a heretofore concealed cup of orange
juice into his lap, Tom's chortle became "Ho-ho-ho-oh, no!" The kid

242 Breakfast with Santa

stood there, frowning. Tom shot him a dirty look and, using the
handkerchief that he'd had the presence of mind to stuff into his
pocket, swiped hastily at the orange rivulets gathering in his crotch.
With great effort, he managed to bite back a four-letter word that drill
sergeants liked to say when things weren't going well.

He jammed the handkerchief back in his pocket and hoisted the boy onto
his knee. "Careful now," Tom said. "Mustn't get orange juice on that
nice blue suit, ho-ho-ho!"

"Do you always laugh like that?" asked the kid, who seemed about five
years old. He had a voice like a foghorn and a scowl that would do
justice to Scrooge himself.

"Laugh like what?" Tom asked, realizing too late that he'd used his own
voice, not Santa's.

"sHo-ho-ho.' Nobody laughs like that." The boy was regarding him with
wide blue eyes.

"Ho-ho-ho," Tom said, lapsing back into his Santa voice. "You're a funny
guy, right?"

"No, I'm not. You aren't, either."

"Ahem," Santa said. "Maybe you should just tell me what you want for
Christmas."

The kid glowered at him. "Guess," he said.

Tom was unprepared for this. "An Etch-a-Sketch?" he ventured. Those had
been popular when he was a child.

"Nope."

"Yu-Gi-Oh! cards? A Crash Team Billy Goat...uh, I mean Bandicoot?"

"Nope."

243

243

Beads of sweat broke out on Tom's forehead. The helpers were unaware of
his plight. They were busy lining up the other kids who wanted to talk
to Santa.

"Yu-Gi-Oh! cards?"

"You already guessed that one." The boy's voice was full of scorn.

"A bike? Play-Doh?"

The kid jumped off his lap, disconcerting the elf with the camera. "I
want a real daddy for Christmas," the boy said, and stared defiantly up
at Tom....

244

245 This is Mary Anne Wilson's third book in her

four-book miniseries entitled

RETURN TO SILVER CREEK,

the dramatic stories of four men who became fast

friends as youths in a small Nevada town-and the

unexpected turns each of their lives has taken.

Cane Stone's tale is no exception!

246

247 A month ago, Las Vegas, Nevada

"I'm not going back to Silver Creek," Cane Stone said. "I don't have the
time, or the inclination to make the time. Besides, it's not home for me."

The man he was talking to, Jack Prescott, shook his head, then motioned
with both hands at Cane's penthouse. It was done in black and
white-black marble floors, white stone fireplace, white leather
furniture. The only splash of color came from the sofa pillows, in
various shades of red. "This is home?"

The Dream Catcher Hotel and Casino on The Strip in Las Vegas was a place
to be. The place Cane worked. The part of the world that he owned. But a
home? No. He'd never had one. "It's my place," he said honestly.

An angular man, dressed as usual in faded jeans, an old open-necked
shirt and well-worn leather boots-despite the millions he was worth-Jack
leaned back against the semi-circular couch, positioned to face the bank
of windows that looked down on the sprawling

248 Holiday Homecoming

city twenty stories below. "Cane, come on. You haven't been back for
years, and it's the holidays."

"Bah, humbug," Cane said with a slight smile, wishing that the feeble
joke would ease the growing tension in him. A tension that had started
when Jack had asked him to go back to Silver Creek. "You know that for
people like us there are no holidays. They're the heavy times in the
year. I look forward to Christmas the way Ebenezer Scrooge did. You get
through it and make as much money as you can."

Jack didn't respond with any semblance of a smile. Instead, he muttered,
"God, you're cynical."

"Realistic," Cane amended with a shrug. "What I want to know, though, is
why it's so important to you that I go to Silver Creek?"

"I said, it's the holidays, and that means friends. Josh is there now,
and Gordie, who's in his clinic twenty-four hours a day. We can get
drunk, ski down Main Street, take on Killer Run again. Whatever you want."

Jack, Josh and Gordie were as close to a family as Cane had come as a
child. The orphanage hadn't been anything out of Dickens, but it hadn't
been family. The three friends were. The four of them had done
everything together, including getting into trouble and wiping out on
Killer Run. "Tempting," Cane said, a pure lie at that moment. "But no deal."

"I won't stop asking," Jack said.

Cane stood and crossed to the built-in bar by the bank of windows. He
ignored the alcohol and glasses and picked up one of several packs of
unopened cards, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirrors behind the

249 Mary Anne Wilson

249

bar before he turned to Jack. He was tall, about Jack's height at
six-foot-one or so, with dark hair worn a bit long like Jack's, and
brushed by gray-like Jack's. His eyes, though, were deep blue, in
contrast to Jack's, which were almost black.

He was sure he could match Jack dollar for dollar if he had to. And
where just as Jack didn't look like the richest man in Silver Creek,
Cane didn't look like a wealthy hotel/casino owner in Las Vegas. Few
owners dressed in Levi's and T-shirts; even fewer went without any
jewelry, including a watch. He had a closetful of expensive suits and
silk shirts, but he hardly ever wore them. Still, he fit right in at the
Dream Catcher Hotel and Casino. It was about the only place he'd ever
felt he fit in. He didn't fit in Silver Creek. He never had.

He went back to Jack with the cards, broke the seal on the deck and said
as he slipped the cards out of the package, "Let's settle this once and
for all."

"I'm not going to play poker with you," Jack told him. "I don't stand a
chance."

Cane eyed his friend as he sat down by him on the couch. "We'll keep it
simple," he murmured. He took the cards out of the box, tossed the empty
box on the onyx coffee table in front of them and shuffled the deck.

"What's at stake?" Jack asked.

"If you win, I'll head north to Silver Creek for a few days around the
holidays..."

250

> HARLEQUIN-

j This season, enjoy a holiday fairy tale by a | brand-new author...

| CINDERELLA CHRISTMAS

by Shelley Galloway

(November 2005)

When she's wearing her mop-emblazoned

Jovial Janitor uniform, most people look

right through Brooke Anne Kessler. But

Royal Hotels executive Morgan Carmichael

has just been jilted by his date for the

company Christmas ball, and suddenly

he's seeing the petite blonde who dusts his

office in a whole different light....

Available wherever Harlequin books are sold.

www.eHarlequin.com harcchos