Texas Born

Ann DeFee

Synopsis:

Dr. Olivia Alvarado, town vet and sometime coroner of Port Serenity,
Texas, is nobody's fool. So when Sheriff C. J. Baker charged into her
life, the last thing Livy expected was a broken heart. She should've
known better. Because he seemed absolutely perfect for her - and
nothing's ever perfect.

Finding out that C.J. was already married just about killed Olivia. But
there's a lot she doesn't know about C.J.'s marriage - like the fact
that it was for Selena's protection. Now that Selena's safe and he's
safely divorced, C.J. wants Olivia back.

When they're thrown together on a bizarre case, Livy can't avoid
spending time with C.J. - or falling for him all over again. But then
Selena shows up in Port Serenity. So what's a girl to think?

5

Dear Reader,

Sheriff C. J. Baker and Dr. Olivia Alvarado welcome you back to Port
Serenity, Texas, where life is never dull and romance blooms in the
midst of murder, mayhem and well-meaning but ditzy relatives. (You may
have met them in my first American Romance novel, A Texas State of Mind.)

For one blinding, rhapsodic moment, Livy fell head over heels in love
with the sexiest sheriff on the Gulf Coast, but then she found out he
was married. Supposedly it was all platonic-his way of helping someone
out of a bad situation. Yeah, right. Okay, he is divorced, but Olivia
has this itsy-bitsy problem with trust.... Getting jilted at the altar a
decade ago tends to do that to a girl.

CJ. blew it-boy, did he blow it. Courting Olivia will be tough, but
failure isn't an option. She's the best thing that ever happened to him.
All rules go by the wayside in a skirmish of the heart.

Interspersed with their romantic sparring, Olivia and CJ. have
professional encounters, too-a couple of dead bodies, an attempted
kidnapping and an assault at the Super Saver. And this used to be such a
quiet place! Add into the equation the rash of burglaries and the
nefarious new citizens complicating life in their little haven of art
galleries and Victorian B and B's, and you have the wild and wacky world
of Port Serenity-CJ. and Olivia style.

So put your feet up, grab a glass of iced tea and enjoy another visit to
the Texas Gulf Coast.

Ann

P.S. I love to hear from readers. My snail mail address is P.O. Box
97313, Tacoma, WA 98497, and my e-mail address is ann@anndefee.com.

TEXAS BORN

Ann DeFee

6

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 0-373-75119-2

TEXAS BORN

Copyright Š2006 by Ann DeFee.

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 U.S.A.

Žand TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with Žare
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.

To Bob-my husband, lover and best friend

since we were children. Your support helped

make this dream come true.

7

"Hey there, sweetheart. Mind if I join you?"

Dr. Olivia Alvarado switched her attention from her salad to the
handsome man with the shaggy sun-kissed hair, mile-deep dimples and
sea-green eyes that twinkled with humor and mischief.

"As a matter of fact, I do." She slammed her hands on the table. "I
don't think my shots are current," Olivia hissed. "So get lost!"

She really didn't expect her unwanted visitor to take a hike; after all.
the man's head was as hard as a granite slab. But she did harbor a
slight hope that he'd accede to the southern manners his mama had tried
to thump into his cranium and find his own table.

Instead of skedaddling, he responded with the boyish grin that had
probably stopped girls' hearts all over south Texas. No! No! No way!
Once burned, twice shy. And from experience, Olivia knew that this guy
was capable of breaking her heart.

Daisy's Diner wasn't full-there were tables everywhere-so

8

why did he want to sit with her? "I'm serious. Go someplace else for
your caffeine. I hear they changed the coffee grounds at the
courthouse," she muttered.

Sheriff C. J. Baker chuckled as he sat down on the vinyl bench next to
her and scooted over so close his thigh was right against hers. "Sorry,
can't do that. I want to talk to you."

Olivia moved toward the window and dredged up her best deep-freeze
attitude. "Unless it's in regard to my official capacity as county
coroner, I have absolutely nothing to say to you." She put on a
saccharine-sweet smile. "But maybe I need to speak slower for you to
understand. Get lost." Olivia drew out the short command into a
polysyllabic order and turned her head.

There was a repeat of that irritating chuckle. "Trust me, I've gotten
the picture. You won't answer your phone, you've ignored my e-mails, and
believe it or not, I spotted you when you ran into the tax assessor's
office. Darlin', my mama didn't raise a dummy. I know avoiding when I
see it." He laughed as if he had a delightful secret. "Actually, I
thought escaping into the tax assessor's office was funny."

As far as Olivia was concerned, nothing associated with C. J. Baker was
funny.

He picked up her hand and drew tingly little circles on her palm. "Livy,
sweetheart. We have to straighten out some things. Please have dinner
with me."

Olivia jerked her hand away. "Absolutely no way. I will not-and read my
lips if you're having trouble

grasping this concept-I will not have an affair with a married man!"

Oops, that must've come out a little louder than she'd expected as
several heads turned in their direction. Good grief! The infamous Port
Serenity grapevine would spread that one within hours if not minutes.

Apparently the sheriff didn't take umbrage because he simply smiled, and
what a smile he had. In his chambray shirt, tight faded jeans, well-worn
boots and shiny brass star he could easily have been cast in a remake of
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Ooh boy! Maintaining her immunity to
the guy would take a resolve of steel, but Olivia intended to do exactly
that. One broken heart was plenty, thank you.

He put his arm on the back of the seat and played with her ponytail.
"That's funny, I thought I said dinner." C.J. shrugged and put on a
cat-in-the-creamery expression. "But an affair sounds good to me." He
paused for effect, "And let me make something perfectly clear, I'm not
married."

"Humph," she snorted as she grabbed the check and unsuccessfully
attempted to push out of the booth.

Getting Olivia to forgive him would be one of C.J.'s toughest
assignments, and as a former undercover narcotics cop, he was used to
dealing with dangerous and difficult situations. Yep-obtaining
absolution from this dark-haired beauty would require a miracle.

10

"Honest to God, if you'll have dinner with me, I won't kiss you or touch
you. I won't even flirt with you. Cross my heart." He made an X on his
chest. "But I have to explain why I didn't tell you about Selena. And we
need to discuss why I didn't contact you while I was recuperating. I
promise I'll be a good boy." Unfortunately, C.J. couldn't resist
nuzzling her neck. She had such an appealing neck. In fact, everything
about this woman was tempting.

"That does it!" Olivia swatted him. "You don't have a clue when to quit,
do you?" This time she pushed him hard enough to dislodge him from the
booth-not an easy feat when he was six-two and built like a pro running
back.

C.J. was about to concede this round when he felt a big hand clap on his
shoulder. "How's it goin'?" That voice couldn't belong to anyone but his
best friend and former partner in the narcotics division, Christian
Delacroix. Christian was also the man who'd risked his life to save C.J.
when he was shot in an aborted drug raid.

"Not bad."

"And how's my favorite pel doc?" Christian addressed Olivia. "'Neuter
anyone lately?"

Olivia noticed that C.J. winced. Good. "Very funny. Everyone's a
comedian. How's life as a soon-to-be daddy?"

"It's interesting." Christian said before he turned to watch Lolly, his
very pregnant wife, stop at various tables to chat. Although she was on
maternity leave, Lolly was still the police chief of Port Serenity.

"She says she wants to go by the office to tie up some loose ends. But
if I know her, she'll be calling Sergeant Joe from the delivery room."

"She's so.. .so big," Olivia blurted. Lolly was her best friend and
they'd been sharing thoughts, hopes and dreams since their first
training bras.

Christian grinned as he sat down on the other side of the booth. "Yeah,
and the word waddle has been erased from my vocabulary. But it'll be
worth it when we get those baby girls home."

"I can't believe she's having twins," Olivia said.

"Me neither. But as long as they have all their digits and look like
their mama, I'll be a happy man."

Who wouldn't be? If they looked like their mother, those kids would be
drop-dead gorgeous. Where Olivia had dark brown eyes and waist-length
sable hair, Lolly was a blue-eyed, natural platinum blonde.

And speaking of blondes... The blonde in question greeted half the town
before she made it over to the booth. "Hey, guys." She leaned in to give
Christian a kiss. "Move over. My feet are killing me." She tried to slip
into the booth. "Oops. I don't think I fit." She speared Olivia with a
killer look. "And if you laugh, I'll pull my gun on you."

Olivia's lips twitched.

"I'm serious. I'm licensed to use deadly force."

Olivia couldn't help it. She broke into a belly laugh. "Man alive, are
you sure you're only having twins?"

Lolly joined her in the laughter. "Yes, ma'am,

12

just two. I know, I know. I'm the size of an elephant, but he loves me."
The "he" she was talking about gently rubbed her belly. "Doc said we're
going to have these babies in two weeks come hell or high water. You're
planning to be there, aren't you Livy?"

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss this birthin' for the world. Those are
my goddaughters you're talking about." Olivia took out her date book.
"What's your best estimate?"

"I'm not sure. I should know more after my doctor's appointment. I'll
call you as soon as I hear something."

Using Lolly as a distraction, C.J. had somehow managed to resume his
spot on the bench, and slid even closer to Olivia. But before she could
get rid of the pest, C.J.'s cell phone rang and then hers chirped almost
simultaneously. That wasn't a good sign when the two people involved
were the Aransas County sheriff and the coroner.

"What's up?" he asked and listened intently before he snapped his phone
shut. "Guess you heard?" He glanced pointedly at the phone she'd just
closed.

"Yeah."

C.J. brought Lolly and Christian into the conversation. "Mrs. Pomerantz
found a body at the nature preserve."

"What was Mrs. Pomerantz doing at the bird sanctuary?" Lolly asked. As
police chief, her jurisdiction ended at the city limits, unlike C.J.'s
territory which included all 276 square miles of Aransas

County, excluding the towns of Port Serenity and Nueces Pass.

The economy of the county flourished on tourists who sipped tea at the
Victorian bed-and-breakfasts, patronized the art galleries and romped in
the surf. For the more nature-minded, the miles of rocky coast were
dotted with sandy beaches and thickets of live oak that grew to the
water's edge, providing a lush haven for exotic birds and sea creatures.
Unfortunately, a secluded wilderness area could be the perfect place for
murder.

Lolly's questions drew a frown from her husband. "Well, I'm just
curious." She punched him on the arm. "Okay, point taken. It's out of my
jurisdiction and I'm on maternity leave."

C.J. grabbed his Stetson and stood. "My deputy's on his way. I'll let
you know what I find out. You want a ride?" he asked Olivia.

Not really. Just the thought of being in a car with Mr.
Too-Cute-for-His-Own-Good gave her chills. But unfortunately her
Corvette was in the auto shop next door-which was the reason she was
sitting around Daisy's Diner in the first place. "Okay, but no funny stuff."

He graced her with that heart-stopping grin again. "I promise. Business
only. Let's go." C.J. didn't give her time to change her mind before he
took her hand and helped her to her feet.

"Stop it! That's exactly what I mean." Not that her protests would make
any difference. Trying to

14

squelch his gentlemanly tendencies would be like turning back the tide.
Because right to his core, C.J. was a slow-walking (Lordy, that man
could saunter), quick-grinning Texas charmer.

15

"What have you been up to lately?" Olivia had to say something-the
silence was driving her nuts.

C.J. glanced over and grinned. "Not much. Getting a divorce, running a
campaign, buying a house-the usual stuff."

Obviously that wasn't a safe topic. But before Olivia's brain kicked in,
her mouth took over. "So where is Selena these days?" When had she
developed that masochistic streak?

C.J. didn't turn to look at her, but she could tell he was smiling. "She
got a job as a physical therapist in Dallas. Same place she interned.
She seems happy and I'm delighted for her. Listen-" he draped one hand
negligently over the steering wheel "-I'm sorry that I never-" Before he
could finish the apology, he was interrupted by the crackle of the radio.

"Sheriff, we've got two bodies out there, a man and a woman." The
dispatcher was trying for a calm tone but didn't quite pull it off.

16

"Copy that." CJ. gunned the Explorer. "I'm fifteen minutes away and I
have the coroner with me."

Olivia noted the grim expression on his face. He'd made the leap from
charming rogue to consummate cop in the blink of an eye. The guy had a
lot of faults, but when it came to police work he was the best. Not only
was he intelligent and intuitive, he abhorred crimes involving women.
All in all, he was a natural-born protector.

"Why do you think Mrs. Pomerantz was at the wildlife refuge?" he asked,
even though it was obviously a rhetorical question.

Olivia was wondering the same thing. Mrs. Pomerantz was one of Port
Serenity's more colorful characters. She was at least eighty and drove a
mint condition '65 Impala. Everyone in town got out of the way when Mrs.
Pomerantz hit the road. As for the wildlife refuge, it was wild and
beautiful but it wasn't for the faint of heart. And it certainly wasn't
a suitable place for a little old lady who could barely see her hand in
front of her face.

"Do you think she knows about Big Bob?" Olivia asked. That was the
nickname of a famous fifteen-foot gator who loved to sun himself on hot
asphalt. Not to mention the cottonmouth water moccasins, javelina hogs
and God only knew what else. "Last year when Lolly and I went out to
look at the whooping cranes we almost ran over a ten-footer right in the
middle of the road."

C.J. raised an eyebrow. "Those guys are interesting but I've been more
impressed with the mosquitoes the size of '58 Buicks, with fins."

Olivia cringed at the thought of the voracious bloodsuckers. "Do you
have any insect repellent?"

"Try the console."

She retrieved the lotion and liberally slathered it on. Even with
repellent, she'd probably end up looking like she had chicken pox before
the day was over.

C.J. whipped into the entrance of the nature preserve and roared down
the gravel road to one of the bird observatories. A large bull alligator
slid into the tidal marsh as they sped by. A couple of years earlier the
park service had done a wildlife inventory and concluded that at least
twenty thousand of the prehistoric reptiles resided in the 70,000-acre
conservancy.

A pea-green Lincoln Town Car was stopped in the middle of the dirt road
with its doors standing wide open. Two elderly women huddled by the
front bumper, engaged in an animated discussion with one of C.J.'s young
deputies.

"Curtis is getting the initiation by fire, isn't he?" he commented as he
parked his Explorer next to the police cruiser.

The deputy was young, cute and obviously overwhelmed.

"Sure enough. By herself Mrs. Pomerantz is a handful, but when you add
Gladys Schmidt to the equation, you quadruple the trouble," Olivia agreed.

C.J. ambled over to the cruiser. "Ladies." He tipped his hat. "I hear
there's been some trouble out here." C.J. was a master at good-old-boy
charm.

18

"Why don't you sit in my car where it's cool and tell me all about it?"
It didn't take a second invitation to entice the seniors into the back
seat of the Explorer. Even though it was April, the temperature was
already in the 90s.

Mrs. Pomerantz was the first to pipe up. "Gladys and I decided to come
out and see if any of the birds had stopped on their way up from Mexico.
We went to bingo down at St. Joe's church, but Buddy Holi-decker was
calling and he's deafer than a post, plus he can't see squat, so we
decided to beat feet."

"Yeah, we were going for ice cream but my son had given me a new pair of
binoculars, so we thought we'd try them out." Gladys held up a shiny set
of field glasses. "We got a little lost and when we stopped to read the
sign-" she waved at an Interpretive Trail marker "-I spotted the boot."

"Yeah, and damned if it wasn't attached to a leg. Lord in heaven!" Mrs.
Pomerantz exclaimed. "Not in a million years did I expect to find some
dead guy in nothing but his tightie whities and a pair of ostrich-skin
Tony Lamas."

C.J. noticed Olivia was having a hard time keeping her grin in check.

"And?" He encouraged the women.

"And we scurried back to the car to use the cell phone my daughter gave
me." Mrs. Pomerantz paused and wiped her forehead. "Gladys's
air-conditioning doesn't work too good, yours is much better. It's
hotter than h-e-l-l-l-e out there." Mrs. Pomerantz was never one to
mince words.

"So you didn't see anything else? No car, no people, nothing."

In unison the ladies answered in the negative.

"Tell you what. I'll have Curtis drive you home and we'll make sure you
get your car back. Why don't you call someone and have them meet you?
I'd rather you not go home alone."

After C.J. had the ladies situated in Curtis's cruiser he joined Olivia
as she examined the man's body.

"Okay, what do we have?"

She was bagging the corpse's hands. "Look at this." Olivia held up one
of the man's hands. "This guy died of carbon monoxide poisoning."

"How do you know that?"

"See how his nail beds are cherry-red?" C.J. nodded. "That didn't come
from a Revlon bottle. The color is a sure-fire indication he died of
carbon monoxide poisoning. Add that to the fact we don't have a gunshot
wound, a knife wound or even blunt force trauma and I can do an instant
diagnosis." She grinned and added a facetious note. "I'd bet my bottom
dollar he didn't strip down and stroll out here to die in the wide-open
spaces. That would be impossible."

"Yep, you're right. Let's check out the woman." C.J. started down the
sandy path but was distracted when the ambulance arrived. "Olivia, why
don't you get started?" He took a few minutes to issue orders to the
attendants before he joined her.

The deceased female was lying approximately fifteen feet from the man
near a large body of brackish

20

water. She was clad in an old-fashioned slip and a pair of navy-blue pumps.

"She has the same cherry-red nails." C. J. observed as he turned the
body over and held up her hand. "I sure hope we can get a match on their
fingerprints because we obviously don't have any other ID."

Olivia was thankful her job was to declare the cause of death, not cut
up the bodies-that fell under the purview of the medical examiner. She'd
only run for the coroner's post to help pay off her vet school bills.
"I'd be surprised if the autopsy revealed another cause of death. You
have to have an enclosed space for fatal CO poisoning, so I suppose the
questions are where did this occur and who dumped them out here for
gator bait? And if it was an accident, why would someone try to dispose
of the bodies."

"To state the obvious, someone wanted the gators to eat the evidence.
But evidence of what?" C.J. was still contemplating the mystery when his
cell phone rang.

"Hey boss, we found a half-submerged motorcycle in the saw grass."

"Don't touch it. I'll be there in a second." Whoever disposed of the
bodies had probably also ditched the bike. And C.J. would definitely
like to talk to that someone.

As it turned out, the new evidence included a brand-new Harley and two
helmets. It didn't include clothes, identification or VIN. And that left
him with nothing in his attempt to identify John and Jane Doe.

Sometimes it didn't pay to get up, and this was beginning to look like
one of those days.

Olivia had joined him and was watching the deputies search for
additional clues. "What do you think?"

"I don't know." C.J. verbalized his thoughts, hoping to clarify the
situation. "Right now I don't even know if a crime's been committed. But
I do know these folks didn't get here by themselves." Okay, that
deduction didn't exactly fall in the Sherlock Holmes category, but hey!
"We'll have to wait and see. If this is some kind of double suicide,
it's the strangest thing I've ever seen."

"No kidding," Olivia agreed. Even for a homicide it was mysterious.

What in the world had possessed her to run for coroner? Oh yeah, the vet
school bills. Maybe she should chuck the dead body gig and apply for the
midnight shift at the Pac & Save. At least that way she could get free
Slurpees.

23

They spent the rest of the afternoon combing the wildlife refuge and
C.J. was ravenous. "How about going with me to the Sonic for supper? I
guarantee I won't discuss anything more controversial than the merits of
curly fries versus ranch fries."

It had been a doozy of a day. He had two corpses with some weird cause
of death, and on the personal front he wasn't any closer to gaining
Olivia's trust than he had been yesterday. If the grim set of the lady's
chin was any indication, the chances of getting back in her good graces
were slim to none, and slim had already left town.

C.J. never backed down from a challenge-the bigger, the better. His mama
claimed he was flat-out mule stubborn. He preferred to think of it as
determined, but whatever you wanted to call it, Dr. Olivia didn't stand
a chance. C. J. Baker always got his man-or woman, as the case might be.

"Okay, but you'd better behave. I'm only agreeing because I'm starving
and I haven't been to a grocery

store in ages." As soon as the words left her mouth, Olivia realized
she'd made a big fat mistake. This man had been responsible for one of
the worst days of her life.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could vividly remember the
excruciating hours she'd spent in the intensive care unit not knowing
whether he was going to live or die. Then she'd relive the devastating
day she discovered the man she loved, and the only man she could ever
imagine spending her life with, was married to a fiery redhead who was
barely old enough to buy beer.

Her family and friends tried to put a positive spin on the fiasco, but
she wasn't buying any of it. Christian claimed it was a marriage in name
only-just another case of C.J. adopting a stray. Supposedly, the
marriage was the only way he could get Selena away from an abusive
brother in Colombia.

Platonic-her rear end. He was an all-American boy with over-the-top
testosterone and Selena looked like she'd stepped off the pages of
Cosmo. What kind of idiot did everyone take her for?

Olivia tried hard to keep from thinking about Selena. But late at night
she chewed on the thought like a rat on an extension cord.

True, she had avoided him like the plague since he'd quit his job as an
undercover narcotics officer and returned to Port Serenity. Plus, she
had ducked into the tax assessor's office when she spied him in the
hall. Darn his hide-how in the world had he spotted her? Talk about
embarrassing.

24

If he thought he could wheedle her into forgiving him, he was
delusional. The guy had broken her heart and stomped on the pieces, and
no one got away with messing with Olivia Alvarado. It did, however, gall
her that just one of his silly grins could still send her tummy into
barrel rolls. It was unfair. Not only was it unfair- it was downright
dangerous to her mental health.

The moment he pulled the Explorer into the parking bay at the Sonic
drive-in her appetite kicked in. Just the smell of sizzling burgers made
her stomach growl. She slapped a hand over her midsection.

"This is your fault. If you hadn't been such a pest I would have
finished my lunch. So, you're buying." She'd let him spring for a burger
and then she'd ditch him.

"Jalapeno double cheeseburger, large fries and a tall Dr Pepper."

He grinned and those darn dimples made another appearance. "Guess
there's nothing like a dead body to jump-start the old appetite, huh?"

She swatted his arm. Easy banter and teasing used to be the essence of
their relationship. But those were the good old days.

"You're thinking too much." He twirled a stray strand of her hair around
his finger. "Why don't you try listenin' to your heart?" Then he ran his
index finger down the side of her cheek and rested it in the center of
her bottom lip.

Mother Mary! When he did things like that she couldn't think, much less
react. It took a few seconds for her brain to make the proper
connections. "Quit it."

He chuckled and slid down his window to take their food from the carhop.
"Sweetheart, you've been saved by the burger. But don't take your
reprieve for granted. I promise we'll straighten this out. Don't you
doubt it. Not for a minute."

27

It had been a week since the discovery of John and Jane Doe, clad only
in their skivvies and shoes. The autopsies confirmed they had died of
carbon monoxide poisoning. So it looked like accidental death. The
anomaly that was bothering Olivia was why someone would strip them down
and put them out for alligator bait? And if by some strange turn of
events it proved to be a homicide, why hadn't the victims put up a
struggle? There wasn't a mark on either body.

Those niggling questions haunted Olivia's every waking hour, but it was
C.J. who was really making her crazy. He was popping up everywhere. Just
yesterday she'd almost bowled him over in the feminine hygiene aisle at
the Super Saver. His halfhearted mumbled excuse that he was shopping was
a load of bull hockey. But at least that time he'd kept his hands to
himself. She wasn't quite so lucky during their encounter in the produce
section of the Piggly Wiggly. That man could make fondling a peach look
erotic.

Enough. Olivia refocused her attention on her

grossly overweight Chihuahua patient and his hypochondriac owner. "Mrs.
Conner, if you don't get Pepe on a diet he's going to have some big
medical problems. He should lose at least ten pounds." A nineteen-pound
Chihuahua was not a good thing. The dog's belly was as tight as a tick.

"But he loves his treats," the owner whined. She looked like a regular
patron at the Tastee Treat drive-in.

"Yes ma'am, I understand. I love chocolate, but I try to resist. Right
now he's in good health, but you absolutely have to put him on a special
diet."

"Doc." One of the vet techs stuck her head in the door to get Olivia's
attention. "You have an emergency phone call. Should I tell him to hold?"

"Yeah. I'll be there in a sec." More than likely it was Christian
announcing a trip to the maternity ward. Lolly was the size of a beached
whale.

"I need to answer this phone call. Promise me, Mrs. Conner, you'll watch
what Pepe eats."

"I will. I promise." Uh-huh-and Olivia believed in the tooth fairy.

"Dr. Alvarado," she answered.

Sure enough, it was Christian. "Livy, we're at the hospital. Doc says
the girls will be making their grand entrance in somewhere between ten
minutes and ten hours. You wouldn't believe some of the vile names
Lolly's been calling me and the scary things she's threatening to do."

Olivia had to laugh. "I'll be there in a half hour. I have one more
patient and then I can leave."

28

She quickly diagnosed a bad case of fleas, prescribed a good bug killer
and was on her way to the hospital. The whole godmother thing was such a
kick. The only fly in the ointment was the godfather, C. J. Baker,
Christian's best friend and, duh, her current shadow.

The waiting room of the maternity ward was decorated in generic pink
plastic. And for reading material someone obviously had cleaned out the
garage and contributed a stash of Family Circle magazines-circa 1980-to
the cause. After an hour of boredom even a conversation with the future
godfather seemed like a pleasant diversion.

And speaking of diversions, there he was in the flesh.

"Sorry it took me so long to get here. How are the parents-to-be?" C.J.
asked. .

"Lolly's okay, but Christian looks a little worse for wear. She's been
giving him all kinds of hell. They just went into the delivery room."
Olivia crossed her fingers. "Hopefully the babies will be here any moment."

"I love it when the big guy gets rattled."

"It is kind of funny, isn't it," Olivia agreed. "Were you out on a call?"

C.J.'s eyes crinkled in prelude to a huge grin. "Yeah, it was another
Mrs. Pomerantz/Gladys Schmidt event. They ran over a guy's 'hog' in the
Dollar Bonanza parking lot. I was only a block away, and it involved the
ladies, so I took the call. Those women are worse than Typhoid Mary."

Once before, Mrs. Pomerantz had been the cause of a near-riot on Main
Street when she was involved in an altercation with a tourist. Only
Lolly's diplomacy had "convinced" the visitor to take his vacation to
another beach.

"Did the guy finally understand it was his fault?"

"Yeah, sort of. It was amazing how fast he decided to settle when Mrs.
Pomerantz's baby boy, Bill, arrived with his checkbook."

"Good thing he's rich as Croesus, huh?"

"Sure is," she agreed.

Their conversation was cut short by the entrance of Lolly's mother,
Marcela (Mee Maw to half of Aransas County), her aunt Sissy and Lolly's
children Bren and Amanda.

"Hey sweetie." Olivia hugged eleven-year-old Amanda. "Are you ready for
a couple of new sisters?"

"I can't wait, Aunt Livy. This is going to be so cool," Amanda enthused.
"Right, Bren?"

"Yeah, cool." Bren's endorsement was somewhat less enthusiastic.

Olivia suppressed a chuckle. To a fifteen-year-old boy, a very pregnant
mother was probably embarrassing beyond belief.

"I just hope I don't have to do a bunch of babysitting." He paused and
appeared to be strategizing. "Do you think I could take them to football
practice?"

Olivia could see his brain working. A couple of cute babies would be an
irresistible cheerleader magnet. And where a football team was holding
practice, cute girls were always close by.

30

Her thoughts were interrupted by a nurse who informed them that Dana and
Renee Delacroix had made their entrance. As soon as everyone was settled
in mama's room visitors would be welcome.

Amanda bounced up and down in anticipation. "This is awesome."

Olivia wondered how long the enthusiasm would last when the cuties cried
all night. "Yeah, it's nice, isn't it," she agreed.

By the time visitors were allowed into Lolly's room, the new mother
looked gorgeous, the little darlings were clean and swaddled and Daddy
was beaming. It was hard to imagine anyone as big and bad as Christian
Delacroix cuddling a couple of babies with such a goofy grin on his
face. But there he was, silly smile and all.

C.J. clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Hey, man, you have some
beauties there." Actually, they kind of resembled scrunched-up little
red rodents, but all babies looked alike to him. "I hope they have their
mama's looks, not their dad's."

Christian punched him on the arm. "Guaranteed. I wouldn't have it any
other way." He ran a finger gently down Lolly's cheek. "Are you planning
to follow through with the threats you made a couple hours ago?"

She appeared to be reconsidering and then grinned. "No, I guess not. I
like the family jewels just like they are."

"Thank goodness."

The scene made Olivia want to tear up, it was so

sweet. And when Christian put his arms around Bren and Amanda, his
step-children, to admire the new additions to their family, she was sure
she'd lose it. This was the kind of family Olivia had always wanted,
too, but considering her taste in men it probably wasn't going to happen.

C. J. seemed to be watching the family interaction almost as intently as
she was. Could he possibly be having some of the same feelings? Not
possible. This was the same man who had failed to mention the itsy,
bitsy little fact that he'd been MARRIED. Domestication was not in his
future. But, that's what she'd thought about Christian, and look at him now.

Stop right there! Hadn't the debacle with Brian taught her anything?
Wasn't the humiliation of getting left at the altar, complete with a
white dress, calla lilies, and a wedding cake the size of the Empire
State Building enough?

Nope. Men weren't trustworthy. And someone who failed to mention the
itsy, bitsy fact that he was MARRIED sure couldn't be trusted.

Not now-not ever!

33

Olivia's most recent encounter with C.J. had left her thoughts in a
jumble. And when things got too confused, it was time to call in the
expert-her mom.

Olivia parked in front of Rose McKittrick Alva-rado's art gallery, the
Toad and Turtle, and stared in mute fascination at the tableau that
confronted her. The huge papier-mâché bowl blocking the sidewalk
contained at least a half dozen people colorfully dressed as vegetables.
Good grief-it was another wacky example of Mama's performance art.

Times like this Olivia wished she could twitch her nose and make it all
go away, but darn it, she'd missed out on the Samantha Stevens gene.

Olivia unfolded her legs from the low-slung sports car. The gently used
red Corvette had cost a fortune, and the maintenance-what can you say
about sports car upkeep, but a girl had an image to maintain, and for
her, the ' Vette was perfect.

She strolled up to the front of the gallery, put her hands on her hips
and peered into the bowl.

"Mama, are you in there?"

Sure enough the eggplant raised its head and smiled. "Livy, sweetie.
What are you doing in town this afternoon? We're practicing our still
life for the festival this weekend." Rose got to her feet and leaned
over to kiss Olivia's cheek.

Her mother was an eggpl ant. Very few people could pull off a purple
spandex leotard like Rose McKittrick Alvarado. The woman was a dead
ringer for Maureen O'Hara from the old John Wayne movies.

"You folks continue to contemplate life while I talk to my baby girl,"
Rose instructed her fellow artists and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
"Come into the gallery and I'll fix us a nice glass of iced tea. It's
wicked hot out here and we're still a month from summer." She fanned her
face and pulled off her purple headdress. "What's up with you this
afternoon?" Rose asked as she strolled to the back room that served as
her office.

Olivia fingered a new display of ceramic jewelry. "Not much. I thought
you might be able to go to the Blue Lagoon for lunch. I don't have any
patients scheduled until two."

Rose handed Olivia the tea, cupped her chin and studied her face. Uh-oh,
Olivia recognized Rose's maternal BS radar. That sucker was more
accurate than the weather service.

"Is everything okay?"

"Sure. Everything's fine. I was just hungry for some of Miss Lou's
chicken salad." That wasn't a total lie-she did have a hankering for a
chicken salad sandwich, heavy on the mayo.

34

Rose paused and then nodded. "Give me fifteen minutes to get rid of this
stuff." She ran a finger through the purple paint on her face. "I'd
scare off all the sisters' customers if I went like this."

The Farthingham sisters, Lou and Peggy, had owned the Blue Lagoon tea
room since Olivia was a little girl. The tea and scone selection was
limited, but the ladies made the best coconut cake and chicken salad
west of the Mississippi.

It only took Rose ten minutes to ditch the purple paint and look like a
million bucks. Nothing like good genes, Olivia decided as she watched
her mother make her way through the crowded restaurant stopping at
almost every table to chat. Not for the first time she pondered the
thought that her mom would be great in politics.

"Hey there, Peggy, how's Harold's bronchitis?" Rose asked the hostess
who was leading them to a premier window table.

"Not bad, not bad." Peggy laughed as she gave them the menus. "Sure has
made his snorin' worse. The man sounds like a sawmill."

That tidbit fell into the "too much information" category. It was time
to change the subject. "Peggy, I'd love some iced tea. I'm parched,"
Olivia said.

"Sure enough. How about you, hon?" the waitress asked Rose.

"Lemonade would be fabulous. And I don't need to see the menu. I'll take
the tuna melt." Rose handed the menu back unopened.

"And I'd like my regular, the chicken salad sandwich with chips," Olivia
said. She should probably have the arugula salad with sprouts, but a
girl could only handle so many healthy things in one day and she'd
already jogged three miles.

Olivia knew as well as she knew her own name that the moment Peggy left,
the inquisition would begin.

Rose pulled her napkin out of its ring, snapped the fabric and dropped
it in her lap. "Might as well spill it. Does this have something to do
with C.J.?"

Yup-nothing got by that woman. Olivia chewed on her bottom lip. She felt
like she was still in elementary school. "I guess it does. He's driving
me nuts. Every time I turn around he's there, fiddling with my hair, or
touching my face, or massaging my neck. I want him to leave me alone."

Rose stared at her thoughtfully. "Do you really? Or are you just afraid
of getting hurt again?"

"Oh please, Mother. One time is plenty, thank you."

"Hmm." Their order came and Rose left the conversation unfinished.

Olivia took one bite and put her sandwich down. Normally in matters of
the heart she'd turn to her best friend, Lolly. But Lolly had her hands
full with the twins, so Mama was elected.

"Okay, I'll admit it. I still have feelings for him. I fell head over
heels in love with him and he broke my heart. And worse still, he
violated my trust. After my Brian experience, that's the worst kind of
betrayal. Maybe if CJ. had been honest with me from

36

the beginning, we could fix this mess. But he wasn't. If he hadn't been
shot how long do you think it would have taken him to tell me about Selena?"

Rose put her hand over Olivia's. "Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie. You see the
world in vivid reds and greens and blues. Other people don't have that
gift. Take CJ.'s daddy, for instance. Lord, that man was a handsome
devil. Anyway, he was a black-and-white kind of guy. Some of that had to
have rubbed off on those boys. I think that's why C.J. and Chandler
chose dangerous careers. And I think the whole black, white and gray
thing is the reason CJ. held back with you. He bends the rules because
he's a natural-born protector.

"I suspect he was trying to look after both you and Selena. He was
waiting for the perfect time to tell you; unfortunately, everything got
mucked up before the perfect time arrived." Rose took a bite of her tuna
melt before she continued. "Corrine told me he was all torn up about
what happened between the two of you."

Olivia couldn't resist an eloquent snort. "Mrs. Baker's a nice lady, but
she doesn't know what a sleazoid her son is."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really." Olivia paused. "Well, no, he's not. Not really."

Rose continued to eat. "Did you know that C.J.'s divorce is final and
Selena has a job in Dallas?"

"Mother!"

"I think you should give your heart another chance. But, I'll change the
subject." Rose discontinued her motherly advice. "You remember my

friend Connie Lee, don't you?" Rose continued without waiting for an
answer. "She was the tomato in our still life. Anyway, she told me the
most fascinating thing."

Olivia mentally winced. When Mama started the conversation with words
like fascinating it was time to become scarce.

"Have you heard about the Bayou Church of the Saved Sinners?" Rose asked.

Everyone in town had heard about the congregation that had taken up
residence in an abandoned chicken processing plant.

"I'd like for you to go with me to one of their services."

Mother Mary! Rumor had it that the Bayou Church services were a unique
combo of West Indian voodoo, biker rally and country/western revival.

"I think it would be a great place to get some new song material." Rose
was an aspiring country/western songwriter. "Plus, I think it would be
fun. We can make it a girls' adventure."

"I suppose that depends on your idea of fun," Olivia responded.

"Connie Lee said the place still smells like wet chicken feathers."

"You're definitely on your own."

Rose finished her lunch. "The preacher's name is Wilbur Hardaway and his
wife is Florene." She paused for dramatic emphasis. "Connie says Florene
has these honkin' big hooters that aren't quite perky anymore. And on
one of them she has this tattoo that

38

says Hallelujah in script over the picture of a rose. Except the script
is running down into her cleavage so all you can see is Hell." Rose
started laughing and couldn't stop. "The tattoo artist apparently
misspelled Hallelujah. Connie claims the rose looks like a deflated
balloon." Rose had another attack of the giggles. "And Brother Wilbur is
a dead ringer for the fat Elvis."

Despite herself, Olivia began to laugh, too. Only Mama could entice her
to attend the Bayou Church of the Saved Sinners. "Okay, I give. You
couldn't rope Daddy into this one, huh?"

"Are you kidding? He said if Aunt Emelda found out I went to that place
she'd put el mal ojo on me. Good Lord, the evil eye can ruin your whole
week."

"Ain't that the truth."

When Mama failed to maintain eye contact Olivia was sure the next shoe
was about to drop.

"They're having their Hog Heaven rally next Sunday. I thought that would
be interesting."

"Hog Heaven?"

"Yeah, it's a blessing of the bikes." Rose chuckled. "They probably need
some heavenly intervention to keep from getting killed. Think about it,
a Harley rally at a church. Can't you just hear the song now-I wiped off
my tattoo on I-35." Rose hummed a few bars of her newest creation.

Holy catfish! That was one scary gene pool.

C.J. was on his way back to the office after a very long day. His office
had coordinated the trailer park

drug bust of a married couple who'd cooked meth-amphetamines in their
kitchen, right in front of their kids. Some people had their heads so
far up their butts they'd never see daylight.

He was busy contemplating felonious characters when he spied Livy's
sports car in front of the Blue Lagoon. That bright red, dual-carburetor
speed machine was hard to miss in a typical Port Serenity sea of pickups
and Suburbans, but it perfectly matched Dr. Alvarado's personality-fiery
and impressive.

C.J. pulled his Explorer over to the curb. The Blue Lagoon was way too
girly for his taste but he'd chow down on endive and caviar if it gave
him an opportunity to talk to Livy. He was about to step out of the SUV
when she pranced onto the street. There wasn't any other way to describe
how she walked. With her showgirl legs, silky sable ponytail and exotic
eyes she could be the subject of any man's red-hot Latin fantasy.

And if the old saying about checking out the mom for a preview of the
future was true, Olivia was going to be stunning till the day she died.
Because Rose Al-varado, with her flaming red hair, still turned heads.
She was a true daughter of the Emerald Isle.

The ladies hopped into the Corvette and Olivia peeled out almost before
Rose had her door closed. It was a typical Livy exit-the cloud of
burning rubber and a rooster tail of sprayed gravel.

Life with that woman would never be boring.

41

Mama had great insight but there were some things a girl didn't discuss
with her mother. So two days later Olivia found herself on Lolly's porch
listening to a soft lullaby coming from inside the house. Things must be
good on the home front. She didn't hear any crying babies or loud
teenage music, just a soft lilting song. Olivia simultaneously tapped on
the door frame and opened the screen.

"It's me."

"Back in the den," Lolly responded. "We're having a tea party." She had
one child clasped to her breast while she pushed a bassinet with her
foot. "It's called multitasking. And I used to think running a police
department was demanding."

Olivia took over the job of rocking the bassinet, which held a sleeping
baby. "Where is everyone?"

"Amanda's at Leslie's house." Lolly popped the food supply out of Dana's
greedy mouth. "I think the new is about to wear off these two. Bren's at
baseball

practice and Christian had to run in to Corpus for a meeting with his
captain."

"How does Christian like manning a desk?" Olivia asked. Christian had
been an undercover narcotics cop when he met his future wife, but love,
children and a white picket fence had enticed him into the relatively
safe world of law enforcement management. Now he was the head of the
Corpus Christi office of the Department of Public Safety Narcotics Division.

Lolly hoisted the baby to her shoulder and was rewarded with a big burp.
"Sometimes I think he misses the adrenaline rush, but this job gives him
the chance to handle the big picture." She gave Dana a few love pats.
"Let me see if I can get this one down and we'll have something cold to
drink."

"Which twin is that?" Olivia asked.

Lolly pondered the question. "I'm not really sure. I'm fairly positive
this cutie is Dana, but sometimes I get confused." She shrugged. "I'm
thinking about marking the bottoms of their feet with an indelible
marker." She gently placed the sleeping baby in the second bassinet.
"Let's go while we can."

They tiptoed into the kitchen, where Lolly fell into a chair. "Lord,
Livy, I'm exhausted. I don't remember babies being this much work. Of
course, I only had one at a time."

Olivia fixed two glasses of tea. This obviously wasn't a good moment to
dump on her friend, who had more than enough to deal with. "So you're
not ready to go to Cotton-Eyed Joe's and kick up your heels, huh?"

42

Lolly rubbed her back. "Are you kidding? My current fantasy is to go to
a motel by myself, turn the air conditioner down till I have frost on my
nose and sleep for a week. So let me live vicariously and tell me what's
happening out in your world."

"Not much. We still haven't figured out how the bodies got to the
wildlife refuge. C.J. has run their descriptions and fingerprints
through every database available, but he can't identify them. The case
has everyone baffled. But I suppose you've been keeping track of
everything associated with murder and mayhem in and around Port
Serenity, haven't you?"

Lolly gave her a guilty grin. "Yep. It drives Christian wild, but I feel
compelled to check in with Sgt. Joe every day. It's my lifeline to a
world of adult conversation. And speaking of C.J...."

Olivia raised her hand. "I don't remember speaking of that man."
Although a down and dirty discussion of life, love and Sheriff C. J.
Baker held enormous appeal. And even though Lolly was terrific at
weeding through the junk and picking out the important things, Olivia
resisted the lure-momentarily.

"But if you insist. Do you know what that cretin did last week?" Olivia
leaned forward as if she was about to whisper a secret. "He followed me
to the Piggly Wiggly and cornered me in the dairy section. Then he
kissed me silly right in front of the yogurt shelf. Half the town was in
the grocery store for double-coupon day. And when I smacked him. he put
on that cocky grin of his and sauntered off like he owned the world.
He's going to be the death of me."

Lolly stared at her friend for a few seconds and then burst into gales
of laughter. She had to wipe her eyes with the bottom of her T-shirt,
she was laughing so hard.

Olivia couldn't believe it. She had bared her soul and Lolly had the
audacity to think the situation was funny. Olivia's drop-dead glare
stopped the belly laughs for a few moments, but then they started again.

"I'm so glad I'm entertaining." Sarcasm dripped off every word. "Do you
really think after that fiasco ten years ago with Brian, and my more
recent encounter with C.J.'s duplicity, I could ever get snookered by a
man again?"

Lolly nodded seriously. "You have a point there. I've still got that
awful lavender bridesmaid dress. Amanda plays dress-up in it."

Olivia wasn't about to admit she had her wedding dress stuffed in the
back of her closet. That was her secret and her reminder to be very
careful with her heart.

"But," Lolly continued, "C.J. is not Brian and the whole Selena
debacle-" she waved a hand in the air "-was just a massive screw-up.
Honey, believe me, he's not going to hurt you again."

"Ha!"

Lolly hugged her best friend. "Boy, are you articulate. I love you to
death but you're the biggest dingbat on the Gulf Coast. Admit it-the man
will eventually wear you down and I'm gonna love watching you take the
plunge."

44

"He absolutely is not going to get to me."

"Oh, yeah, he is."

Olivia could feel her stubborn coming on-damn it, she hated that
particular character flaw. "Want to bet?"

When Lolly got that sly look on her face Olivia knew she was in trouble.

"I'll make it easy on you." Lolly put on the grin Livy hated. "If within
a year you two aren't engaged, I'll take you to Mexico for a week and
pay for everything. If at the end of that time you have a rock on your
finger, we'll still go to Mexico, but you're paying. Either way, I get a
week in the sun." Lolly laughed. "Now I just have to convince my big lug
of a husband that he'll want to babysit for a week "

"Okay, you're on but it's a sucker bet. And read my lips here. C. J.
Baker and I do not have a future. So if you still want to wager, it's
your pocketbook." Olivia stuck out her hand to shake on the deal. This
one was a no-brainer. An engagement ring was not on the horizon. Never,
never, ever.

The next day Olivia was sitting at her desk thinking about sunny beaches
and drinks with paper umbrellas when her official coroner phone rang.
Darn it.

"Dr. Alvarado," she answered.

Double darn! It was the dispatcher from the sheriff's office. "Hey, doc,
Sheriff Baker asked me to call you. A bunch of kids found some bones out
near the old refinery and he'd like you to come. They're in a field near
the gravel pit. You can't miss 'em."

"Okay." She was making a mental inventory of

her morning patients. "Tell him I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

Olivia buzzed the receptionist. "I have a coroner emergency. Would you
please tell Dr. Bob what's happening and ask him to take the rest of my
patients." After she'd made the necessary arrangements, Olivia grabbed
her bag and ditched her strappy sandals-fashionable footwear and the
soft muck of a south Texas cotton field didn't mix.

The police cruisers' emergency lights created an almost carnival
atmosphere, but any situation involving a possible crime was far from
festive. When Olivia drove her car onto the grassy shoulder she noticed
a group of men congregated near the pumping units. The machinery that
pulled the oil from the earth had always reminded her of huge crickets.
Up and down, up and down-the motion was mesmerizing.

C.J. was talking to one of his deputies when Olivia walked up, so she
waited until he finished. "What's happening?"

"The kids were playing paintball and found bones in the creek bed. I
suspect the heavy rains we had last winter washed them down here and it
just took a while for someone to find them."

Olivia glanced at two boys sitting on the ground- the color leached
completely from their faces. Then she noticed the bright red and green
splotches on the scrub oak. "Paintball?"

"Yeah, I didn't know this was the new battleground, but apparently it's
quite popular." C.J. waved

46

a hand to indicate the trees covered in paint. "Come take a look and
tell me what you think."

His professionalism always astonished Olivia. In situations like this,
he was all business. No cocky grin, no dimples, no flirting. It was like
a switch he could turn on and off at will.

They picked their way through the sandy terrain to the edge of the creek
where, sure enough, there were some bones. The question was, were they
human? Olivia snapped on her gloves and knelt to get a better look.

She conducted as thorough an examination as she could in the field. "In
my professional opinion these came from a deer. But since I don't have a
skull, I can't be one hundred percent positive. About ninety-nine
percent, though." She stood and pulled off her latex gloves. "I'd
suggest you send them to the medical examiner in Corpus for confirmation."

"Sounds like a plan to me," C. J. agreed. Although he was wearing
aviator sunglasses, he shaded his eyes and peered at the road. "The
ambulance is here." He turned back to Olivia. "You're pretty sure it's a
deer?"

"Yeah."

C.J. nodded and called over his two detectives. Deputies were roping off
the area with yellow crime-scene tape. "Go ahead and scour the place,
although I don't think we have a crime scene. Get the deputies to help
you and let me know right away if you find anything significant." The
men nodded and started their search.

The bones were bagged and put on the gurney awaiting transportation
while the investigation continued.

"We've done everything we can out here," C.J. said. "We dodged a bullet,
no pun intended, on this one." That hadn't been the case the previous
summer, when dead drug dealers washed up on the beach in Port Serenity.

"Why don't you follow me to the Tastee Treat? I missed lunch and I'm
starving. We can talk about the case," C.J. suggested.

Olivia contemplated his invitation for a moment. It wasn't fair to lead
him on-but it was just a quick lunch. "Oh, all right. But I have to be
back at the clinic by two."

"I'll eat fast, I promise." He grinned as he followed her across the
field. That was some view-and it wasn't the landscape he was admiring.

The downside of the Tastee Treat was that it was the local high school
hangout. The upside was they made the best burgers in the county.

"Double cheeseburger, large onion rings, and a strawberry shake." C.J.
placed his order with the blond ponytailed cutie behind the counter.

When he flashed her one of his dimpled grins, the kid almost swooned.
For heaven's sake! Sure, the guy looked like he'd stepped right out of a
sexy Western. But was that any reason for every female in town to get
all google-eyed?

The teenager was still checking out C.J. when

48

Olivia walked up to the counter. She cleared her throat to get the kid's
attention.

"Grilled cheese sandwich and a Diet Coke."

Her order elicited a smile from Mr. Hot and Sexy.

"What happened to the woman who ordered the jalapeno double cheeseburger
at the Sonic?"

"Stuff it, Baker." Olivia marched to an empty booth at the back of the
restaurant and sat down.

C.J. followed her, but instead of sitting across the table, he sank down
next to her.

What was it with booths and this guy? Everyone knew you didn't leave one
side of the booth empty.

Then he ran his fingers through her ponytail. Why was he stroking her
hair? She pushed his hand away, eliciting a chuckle.

"I've wanted to do this all day." He began with her neck and proceeded
to place a string of soft, wet kisses between her nape and her jaw.

"Hmm." Olivia closed her eyes and savored every one of those tingling
kisses-until her brain finally engaged.

"Stop that. We're in public."

"That's not what you were thinking a minute ago."

"What, now you're a mind reader?" If all else failed, she could always
count on sarcasm. It was one of her more reliable talents.

"Nope. Only with you. Your heart's telling you one thing. Your brain is
on another frequency." He took one more nibble of her neck. "Your heart
is gonna win, you know."

"Not in this lifetime!" At least she hoped she

could keep her resolve in place and her heart defended.

C.J.'s dimples made another appearance. "We'll see, sweetheart. We'll see."

51

The things Olivia did for her mother. If she hadn't been so preoccupied
with Mr. Dimples she would've been able to come up with some logical
excuse to skip the Bayou Church shindig. But when Mama called, Olivia
was still in a tizzy about CJ.'s "we'll see."

Madre de Dios! What did you wear to a Harley hoedown? Olivia frowned as
she pulled out a miniskirt, tossed it on the bed, and rummaged through
the bottom of the closet for some appropriate shoes. For a fraction of a
second she considered phoning Lolly to see if she had a blouse with a
Peter Pan collar, but then she got a grip, whacked herself upside the
head and reached back in the closet to retrieve a T-shirt.

The squeak of the screen door announced Rose's arrival. "Livy, honey.
Are you ready?"

"Gimme a sec. There's some tea in the fridge."

Olivia pulled her waist-length hair up into a pony-tail, dabbed on some
mascara and called it good. This little adventure wasn't her idea, so
why did she

care what she looked like? She grabbed her purse and went to the kitchen.

"Mama, that's a great outfit." Rose had somehow walked the fine line
between secular and sacred in pairing tight black leather pants with a
white silk blouse. "But it's almost ninety degrees outside and you're
gonna bake in all that leather."

Rose nodded in agreement. "I thought about that, but I couldn't resist."

"Then let's do it." Olivia hooked arms with her mother. Even though the
scenario was strange beyond belief she was determined to have a good time.

Her resolve lasted until she pulled into the temporary parking lot and
checked out the sea of motorcycles. "Oh my God, look at that!" Olivia
exclaimed. There were motorcycles of every size, shape and description.
Ditto for the riders. They spanned the spectrum-male, female, fat,
skinny, young, scruffy, yuppie, all the way to downright scary. About
the only thing they had in common was leather. It was a sea of cowhide.

"Oh dear," Rose breathed. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

Amen! But Olivia was determined to make the best of a bad situation. She
threw back her shoulders and started across the field to the front of
the church. "We've come this far, we might as well stick it out. And
swear to goodness, I'll deck the first jerk who tries to put a paw on me."

"Oh, dear. I guess we'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen,
won't we?" Rose said. "Look." She

52

pointed in the direction of a large white tent. "There are some local
folks and they're handing something out. Let's see what's happening."

"Okay," Olivia agreed. That, in fact, sounded like a great idea. It also
sounded like shade and something cold to drink. Her darned sandals were
not made for walking across a plowed field.

By the time they made it to the tent, perspiration was running between
her breasts. So much for glowing like a good Southern girl-she was
sweating like a pig. Her mother, however, appeared immune to the heat
and humidity.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Rose asked.

"Look like you just got out of the shower. Darn it, I feel like I just
ran a marathon." Olivia pulled out the hem of her T-shirt and waved it
to get a breeze on her overheated skin.

Two strong arms came around her waist, pinning her arms to her side.
"Please don't do that." It was the warm velvet drawl she knew so well.
"Watching you makes me hot." He nuzzled the side of her neck.

"C.J." she squeaked, then regained her composure. He was the last person
she expected to see at Hog Heaven. But of course he'd be here; he was
the county sheriff. And although bike riding was "in" with the affluent
yuppie crowd, there was still a dangerous element more traditionally
associated with the sport.

CJ. twirled Olivia in his arms. "Yep, that's a cute outfit. Don't you
think so, Mom?" He addressed his comment to his mother who was standing
next to him.

Corrine Baker was tall, blond, statuesque... and wearing black leather
chaps, a halter top and an American flag do-rag on her head. Somehow,
some way, the woman who had run the library system for the past
twenty-five years had morphed into a biker babe.

Good heavens, were all the baby boomers flip-pin' out?

"Lordy, Corrine, I haven't seen you in a month of Sundays." Rose hugged
her friend. "You're looking mighty good."

Corrine put a hand on her hip to show off her chaps. "Thanks. We're not
too bad for a couple of old chicks, huh? Have you met my new
stockbroker, Dan Matthews?" She pulled a tall, handsome man into the
conversation. "Dan got me interested in bikes."

Okay, that explained the chaps and the do-rag.

"I don't have my own wheels yet, but Dan said he'd help me find the
perfect bike."

It was obvious this guy was more than just a stockbroker to Corrine.
Olivia glanced at C. J. just in time to catch a brief grimace. Attending
a function with your mom's date had to be tough.

"Come with us to buy a T-shirt," Corrine said to Rose. "I want the one
with the cross and the motorcycle. I'm afraid they'll run out." She
pulled her friend to the other side of the tent, leaving C.J. and Olivia
alone.

"I didn't expect to see you here." C.J. cupped her

54

elbow and led her to some metal folding chairs in an out-of-the-way corner.

"Mama wanted to come and Daddy wouldn't be caught dead at something like
this, so I was elected."

"Yep, my mom has a great way with a guilt trip, too. Claimed I needed to
trot along as her bodyguard. She failed to tell me she was also bringing
Dan the Man." C.J. shrugged. "This boyfriend thing is hard for me."

"I can imagine."

He motioned toward Corrine, Rose and Dan who were laughing with a couple
of middle-aged men. "The guy on the right is a banker and the one on the
left is a podiatrist. Can't tell a book by its cover, huh?"

It didn't escape Olivia's attention that while they were having this
conversation C.J. was holding her hand, idly rubbing circles on her
palm. She wondered whether he even realized what he was doing, or if all
the touches and caresses were simply an ingrained part of his
personality. For C.J., charm was as natural as breathing. Her first
assumption was that he saw her as a challenge, but could all the
attention be indicative of something more important? Now that was a
thought to ponder.

Olivia pulled her hand away. She hated it when one of those ideas popped
up like a lightbulb in a cartoon strip.

"Jeez, would you look at those two." He pointed at a man and woman who
had joined Rose and Corrine.

Olivia stifled a giggle. "You don't suppose that's Brother Hardaway and
Florene, do you?"

C.J. put on a wry grin. "I'd bet my bottom dollar

on it. I don't know anyone else in this town who would actually wear an
Elvis suit when it wasn't Halloween."

The man in question was middle-aged and sported a Brylcreem pompadour.
He was encased top to toe in a white leather jumpsuit that was unzipped
almost to his navel. An ornate silver cross was nestled in a clump of
black chest hair.

Yeew!

And Florene-what could you say about Florene? Stiletto heels, big, big
hair, and enough makeup to make Max Factor jealous. And sure enough, the
misspelled "Hellelujah" script looked more like "Hell" with the "elujah"
missing in action.

"Let's go meet 'em. There's something out of whack about those two,"
C.J. muttered.

"No kidding." Olivia agreed.

C.J, smiled as he pulled her out of the chair. "I'm talking about more
than the obvious."

Olivia couldn't imagine what that might be. In this town, everyone over
the age of forty was certifiably insane.

57

Florene Hardaway was carrying on an animated conversation, fluttering
her hands in the air like a demented bird. Unfortunately, Corrine and
Rose seemed to be entranced and that could only spell trouble with a
capital T.

"It's just so much fun. And you guys know so many people." Florene
continued her monologue.

Uh-oh. The ditzy duo didn't need any help dreaming up wacky schemes.

"I'll tell ya for sure, a Sara Belle party is about the most fun a girl
can have with her clothes on," Florene proclaimed.

Talk about a strange comment from a preacher's wife.

"So how 'bout it? Can I count on one of you to have a party? There's a
great hostess gift."

C.J. looked about as clueless as a guy at a bridal shower.

Olivia whispered, "I'll tell you later."

As Florene proceeded with her sales pitch, Rose glanced at Corrine and
shrugged.

"Raul would have a coronary if I had a Sara Belle party at our house,"
Rose said.

"And my place is too small. I can barely get my entire family in there
for Thanksgiving."

In unison, the two women turned to Olivia.

She backed away and raised her hands. "Absolutely not."

"Livy, sweetie. You have such a nice big house and Corrine and I will
take care of everything. We'll clean and bring the refreshments." Rose
squeezed her daughter's arm. "It'll be so much fun. You can invite your
friends and we'll invite ours. We'll make it a mother-daughter event."
Corrine nodded in agreement.

Olivia turned to C.J. for moral support, but the chicken-hearted man
simply shrugged. Smart guy. Getting in the middle of a girly thing was a
no-win situation.

She should probably just throw in the towel because in the long run she
wouldn't win. Besides, she'd get a scrubbed bathroom out of the deal and
Olivia was never one to turn up her nose at a sparkling toilet.

"Okay, I'll do it. But I'll hold you to the house-cleaning."

C.J. pulled her away while the two mothers discussed the logistics of
the event. "Okay, what's a Sara Belle party?" he asked.

Olivia couldn't suppress her giggle. "Think of a cross between Mary Kay
and Frederick's of Hollywood-sexy lingerie, stiletto heels, big hair, mongo

58

mascara, the whole enchilada-all modeled in the comfort of your own
family room. Trust me." She held up her hand as if she was swearing on a
Bible. "I've never been to one of those things, but I've got friends who
have." Olivia confided, "They said you wouldn't believe the lacy garter
belts."

C. J. turned a bright pink. Now that was something.

He quickly recovered from his initial reaction and plastered on a smirk
that registered somewhere between lewd and ludicrous. "Am I invited?"

"No way, Jose. And don't even consider crashing."

Before he could make a token protest, the ceremony began. Even
considering the unique format, C.J. was struck by Brother Hardaway's
unorthodox version of religion. The program started out like a modified
St. Francis of As sisi blessing of the pets and then quickly changed
into a Texas A&M pep rally combined with an evangelical tent revival.

C.J.'s cop antenna went on high alert. There was something not quite
right about the Reverend and Mrs. Hardaway. And when something didn't
pass the smell test, it made C.J. very uncomfortable, indeed.

59

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Olivia and Lolly were surveying the
chaos that reigned in Olivia's living room. Lingerie littered every
available surface and a chorus of female voices ebbed and flowed like
the tide.

"This is worse than the twins at feeding time," Lolly commented before
she bit into another stuffed mushroom. "But the refreshments are good."
She took a sip of her mimosa. "It's been ages since I had anything
alcoholic. One little mimosa is enough to relax me."

As far as Olivia was concerned this debacle was anything but relaxing.
She glanced into the dining room, where Florene was holding court over
the makeover area. Her first volunteer "victim" had been Marcela,
Lolly's mom. The woman was a natural beauty with silver hair and bright
blue eyes. But right this minute she could pass for a cousin of Bozo the
Clown.

Lolly took another sip of her drink. "Do you think Florene uses a trowel
to slather that stuff on?"

60

"I don't know, but I'm not going to be one of her guinea pigs," Olivia
stated with authority. She'd take a stand and mean it, by gosh!

A crescendo of feminine giggles came from the bedroom where some women
were trying on lingerie. "I hate to even ask, but what do you suppose
they're doing back there?" Olivia honestly didn't think she wanted to know.

"Talkin' sex. You can't get a roomful of women together without the
topic turning to the subject of s-e-x. So if you throw in a couple of
boas and lacy teddies what do you expect?"

"Livy sweetie, we need you in here." Uh-oh, that sounded like a maternal
summons.

Sure enough, Rose was standing in the door, a vision in an ivory lace
nightgown and robe. She put one hand on her hip. "You think your daddy
will like this?"

Lord in heaven! She would not have this conversation with her mother.

"We have something in here that will look absolutely stunning on you,"
Rose announced as several of the party-goers joined her. "And believe
me, not one of us could pull this off." She held up a scrap of red lace.
"Come on, be a sport."

"Might as well face the music. You don't have a chance against them."
Lolly waved a hand in the direction of the women.

These ladies were pillars of the community, and right now they were
twittering like a bunch of junior high girls. One of the culprits was a
county

commissioner and another ran a multi-million-dollar corporation.

Despite Olivia's grumbling, the fashion show went on, and on, and on.
Marcela sashayed around in a silk lounging outfit, Rose preened in
virginal white lace, Lolly fed her face and giggled, and Olivia hid in
the bedroom dreading the moment she had to bare this thing, this tiny,
tiny thing.

"Livy, get your rear end out there," Lolly demanded.

With a friend like that, who needed an enemy?

"Now! We want to see the red one." The red one was a minuscule lace
teddy with a cover-up. Cover-up, her bare butt. Olivia had never been
shy and her self-esteem meter was in good working order, but this was
way over the top.

"Now that's an outfit!" Lolly glared at the cookie she was holding. "I'd
have to lose a ton of baby fat to get into that. They're waiting for you."

"Okay, okay. I'm going." Olivia threw back her shoulders, plastered on
her best beauty-pageant smile and strolled out to catcalls and clapping.
But before she could do her first pirouette, Florene handed her a
horrendously ugly pink papier-mâchépiggy bank.

"That's the hostess gift. Take good care of it. It'll bring you luck."
Florene winked and her false eyelashes fluttered like giant
caterpillars. "A big hand for our hostess," she boomed.

The ladies showed their appreciation with whistles, claps and rude
comments. Getting into the spirit

62

of the evening, Olivia did a couple of runway turns but stopped short
when someone started pounding furiously on the door.

"Good lord, what now?" she asked in general, not expecting an answer. It
was probably her crabby neighbor. The one who'd had his humor bone
excised at birth and wanted everyone else in the neighborhood to be as
miserable as he was. Well, this time she'd give him something to think
about.

Olivia marched to the door and flung it open. "Listen here-" Uh-oh. It
was Sheriff C. J. Baker. His slow, lazy perusal started at her red satin
mules and made a long trip upward. The look he gave her could have fried
circuits all the way to Houston.

C.J. cleared his throat. "Livy, I need to come in."

Olivia paused, but then stepped aside. It was hard to deny him anything
when he put on his serious professional face.

He took off his ball cap and faced a room full of women in various
stages of dress and undress. "Ladies, we've had a report of a Peeping
Tom. He was seen hanging around Livy's window. But don't panic. I have
several deputies outside and apparently he's gone. However, I think we
need to break up the party."

Olivia had never seen a bunch of females scatter so quickly. In a matter
of minutes, they were history. Even Florene had abandoned her
merchandise with a promise to come by tomorrow to help clean up.

"Mama, why don't you and Mrs. Baker go on home? I'll be fine with C.J.
and Lolly." Olivia tightened the belt of her old terry-cloth robe.

Rose kissed her daughter's cheek. "Are you sure?" I'll pop over early in
the morning and help you with the mess." She turned to C.J. "Are you
sure everything's safe?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's perfectly fine." C.J. and his deputies had scoured the
area and any bad guys were long gone.

Olivia lived in a well-kept' 70s ranch in one of the nicest areas of
Aransas County. The calls the sheriff's office usually got from these
folks were barking dog complaints, so a Peeping Tom was highly unusual.

"Okay. I'm going home. Let me know if you need me," Rose instructed Olivia.

Lolly waited until the two older ladies were out the door before she
started the inquisition. "What's the deal?"

C.J. grabbed a couple of stuffed mushrooms. "I don't know. Bill
Throckmorton from next door was walking his dog and spotted a guy
lurking out front. When he saw Bill he took off like a scalded dog."

Lolly nodded and returned her service revolver to her purse. "I didn't
know we were having a problem with burglars."

"I didn't either," C.J. admitted. This didn't feel like a burglar or
even a Peeping Tom, but considering the sight of Olivia in that red
teddy, anything was possible.

65

Transitioning from the narcotics division to the sheriff's office had
taken a bit of adjustment. The workload was sometimes frenetic but most
of the time it was slow and easy. Today fell into the coma-inducing
category. And since CJ. was busy indulging in a red-hot fantasy about a
certain dark-haired beauty in a red teddy, he appreciated a yawner.

He'd just settled in with a second cup of coffee and a boring report
when the phone rang. It was the desk sergeant, a remnant of the previous
sheriff's regime, and to put a positive spin on the situation, he was a
total jerk.

"Boss, there's some woman here to see you. She won't take no for an
answer and won't give me her name." The man paused and CJ. could imagine
him smirking. "But she's some looker."

He really had to do something about the guy. If nothing else, he had to
get him away from the public.

"That's enough of that. I'll be right out. Ask her to have a seat," he
instructed. "And be nice about it.

Before he even made it to the lobby he heard a very feminine, and
familiar, voice blessing out the erstwhile desk sergeant. Leave it to
Selena. The poor guy didn't realize that going head-to-head with her was
like attending a gunfight armed with a knife. As tempted as CJ. was to
let her shred the jerk, he took

Pity-He threw open the door and held out his arms. "Selena, sweetie,
what are you doing here?"

Before he knew it he was bowled over by a gorgeous redhead. "Oh, CJ!"

He pushed her back a fraction of an inch to look into her face. Tears
had pooled in her emerald eyes and considering this was Selena, that
wasn't a good sign. One crystalline drop would undoubtedly unleash a
fountain of moisture.

"Let's go back to my office and I'll get you something cold to drink.
Then you can tell me what's wrong." He slid his arm around her shoulders
and ushered her down the corridor.

"Hold all my calls, I don't care who it is," he yelled at the desk
sergeant. "Take a message and tell them I'll call 'em back."

"Yes sir, boss."

Once he had Selena safely in his office, a cold can of Coke in her
possession and the hysteria at bay, he figured it was safe to do a
little questioning.

He sat next to her on the old leather couch, holding her hand. "Okay
honey, what's the problem?" Later, he'd try to figure out why she was in
Port Serenity instead of Dallas.

66

She sniffled quietly. "I think someone is stalking me." The sniffle
became more pronounced. "Last night I went to the mall, you know the one
with the Lillie Rubin store. They had this great off-the-shoulder top.
It's gorgeous-turquoise with all these rhinestones."

C.J. cupped her chin. "Focus."

"Okay. Well, anyway, there's this ice-skating rink in the center of the
mall and I was watching the kids when I felt the hair stand up on the
back of my neck. You know, it was like someone was staring." She paused
and took a sip of her drink. "So I glanced across the rink and there's
this guy watching me."

"That's not unusual. You're a beautiful woman."

"Yeah, well, that wasn't the first time I saw him. I noticed him outside
my office and then I accidentally ran into his cart in the grocery store."

It did sound suspicious, but C.J. couldn't discount the idea that the
guy was merely smitten. Selena was a captivating woman. With her fiery
red hair and voluptuous body she could easily pass for a 1950s bombshell.

"So what else happened? I'm sure you wouldn't have driven six hours just
to tell me some guy's following you around because he's too chicken to
ask you out."

Selena added a hiccup to the sniffles. "When I got home I could tell
someone had been in my apartment. Things were out of place. It looked
like someone had pawed through my mail and there was a strange smell.
Sort of like the market in Matamoros. Plus, for at least two weeks, I've
had this weird feeling someone was watching me. And-" she paused for
emphasis "-the guy looked very familiar."

"Familiar how?"

"I'm not sure. Like someone I used to know. But that's not possible. How
could someone from Colombia find me in Dallas?"

That was something C.J. would like to figure out. When he'd met Selena,
she was a skinny big-eyed teenager trying to blend into the woodwork so
she wouldn't be noticed by her drug-lord brother's friends-a role that
C.J. had assumed in his life as an undercover narcotics cop.

The first night he saw her she was cowering in a corner, fending off the
unwanted advance of some gringo blubber butt. It was only a matter of
time before Enrique Bolivar, Selena's brother and a true spawn of the
devil, realized she wasn't a little girl anymore, and decided to sell
her off to the highest bidder. The scumbag had, after all, been grooming
her in etiquette and English since she was a toddler-waiting for the
right buyer.

The whole idea was so disgusting, C.J. had decided he had to save her.
So he slipped her out of the compound and the country, and with the help
of some high-placed friends he'd managed to get her into the U.S. with a
new, and untraceable, identity. However, in order for the plan to work,
C.J. had had to agree to a platonic marriage. With one stroke of a Pen
he'd acquired the little sister he'd always wanted.

C.J. pulled her into his arms. "Oh, honey, don't worry. We'll sort this
out." He could only hope he

68

was telling the truth, and furthermore, he prayed the truth wasn't what
he feared.

"Tell you what." He grabbed a Kleenex off the desk and dabbed at her
tears. "I'll take you to lunch. I'll bet they have some of that
strawberry pie you love." He tweaked her nose. "How does that sound?"

C.J. was rewarded with a faint giggle. "Then I'll take you to Mom's house."

"Can't I stay with you?"

"Oh, honey, if you crash at my place, Olivia will have a fit. And then I
can kiss my chances with her goodbye."

Selena was fully aware of the Olivia situation. During CJ.'s
convalescence from a bullet wound they'd had numerous conversations
about life, love and the future.

"Okay, let's go eat. I'm probably blowing this out of proportion."

C.J. hoped so. Enrique Bolivar was one nasty dude and he wouldn't put
anything past him. If the guy stalking Selena was one of Enrique's
goons, how had they managed to find her?

69

"Hey, buddy, what's up?" Christian Delacroix inquired as he slapped his
friend on the back and fell into the booth. On the jukebox George Strait
was crooning about lost love. The click of billiard balls and the rumble
of loud conversation provided the background noise at the Lone Star
Tavern, where C.J. and Christian had a standing beer date every Thursday
afternoon. But this was a Tuesday, and Christian had dropped everything
when his friend called.

C.J. rubbed the bridge of his nose. If things were going down as he
suspected, he'd have to bring in the big guns. And Christian Delacroix
was one of the biggest guns around.

"Selena's in town."

"Oh?" Christian had had the unfortunate experience of introducing Selena
to Olivia back during C.J.'s infamous stay in the intensive care unit.

"Yeah. She left Dallas because she's pretty sure someone's following her."

Christian leaned forward. "Really?" He cut his

70

answer short when the waitress appeared to take his order. "Shiner Bock
on tap, please."

When she left, he continued. "Do you think it's some idiot who saw her
at the grocery store and doesn't have the cojones to ask her out?"

"When you're as gorgeous as Selena, that's always a possibility, but I
think something else is going on. She says the guy seems familiar, like
maybe someone she saw in Colombia."

"Crap!" Christian exclaimed.

"My thoughts exactly. I need some help."

"Name it and you got it."

C.J. knew that his friend would always come through. With their combined
drug world connections they might be able to learn what was really going
down. Fortunately, when a drug lord sneezed anywhere in the world,
someone in American narcotics law enforcement responded with a gesundheit.

"I'll see what I can find out. But on to a bigger question. Has Selena
moved back permanently or is this temporary?"

"I don't know." C.J. shrugged. "I guess I'd better tell Olivia, huh?"

"That's for sure."

"Problem is, I can't ever seem to get her alone. And this isn't a
subject we can discuss at the Dairy Queen."

"Privacy would be good. So what do you want to do?"

C.J. took a sip of beer; it was a stalling tactic, but he had a big
favor to ask. "Do you think you guys could invite her to dinner and then
I could

show up? Hopefully her manners will keep her from bolting."

Christian almost choked on his brew, 'if we pull that, she's gonna be
madder than an old wet hen. And you won't be the only one she'll want to
hang." He paused as he thought. "When would we have to do this?"

"Sooner rather than later," C.J. said.

"That's what I was afraid of. Let me talk to Lolly and get her take on it."

C.J. clapped his friend on the back. "That's all I can ask. If that
doesn't work out, I'll kidnap her. We know enough cop types to keep me
out of trouble, don't you think?" He laughed and signaled the waitress
for a refill.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Lolly informed her husband as she
flipped chicken in the skillet. "Livy probably won't speak to me for
weeks. She specifically said she didn't want to have anything to do with
C.J."

Christian was sitting at the kitchen table helping Amanda with her
homework while idly pushing one twin in her wind-up swing, The other
baby was sound asleep in a portable bassinet. Lately the twins had been
colicky and the members of the Delacroix family were experiencing major
sleep deprivation.

"I know. When you're talking about those two, I don't know which one is
more obstinate. If they're ever going to get together, someone's gonna
have to give them a big shove." He ran his fingers through his hair, "I
just wish we hadn't been elected."

72

Lolly frowned and took the last drumstick out of the pan. "Me, too."

The squeak of the screen door announced Olivia's arrival. "Hey, it
smells good in here."

Showtime!

"How's my favorite kid?" She kissed the top of Amanda's head.

"Guess what, Aunt Livy. I've been selected to dance around the maypole.
And I get a new party dress and put flowers in my hair and everything.
Isn't that cool?" Amanda exclaimed.

"Hey, that's great." Olivia looked at Lolly, who rolled her eyes. When
they'd danced around the maypole in elementary school, Lolly got twisted
up in the ribbons and fell on her rear in front of the all their
classmates, the parents and half the citizens of Port Serenity.

"And how's my favorite bad guy?" She ruffled Christian's hair. He hated
that particular show of affection, and that was why she did it.

Olivia leaned over the swing and tweaked the baby's cheek. "And how's
our little snookums doin' ?" There was something about a cute baby that
made even the most intelligent woman revert to baby talk. She lifted the
tiny foot, looking for a small indelible mark Lolly had put on Dana's
foot to tell the girls apart.

"I'm using nail polish on their pinkies now. Pink's for Dana, red's for
Renee. It seemed more sanitary than a Marks-a-Lot," Lolly said as she
placed a glass of wine in front of Olivia. "Drink up. You're going to
need it."

"What?" Olivia asked, but was distracted when Lolly spoke to her daughter.

"As soon as you finish your homework, you can scoot on over to Leslie's
house."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm done." Amanda slammed the cover of her book closed.

"Give your mama some sugar." Lolly leaned down and Amanda obliged with a
kiss before she skipped out the back door.

"Where's Bren?" Olivia asked.

"He has a date," Christian answered. "Tonight's the spring formal."

"Heaven help us all." Lolly sighed. "That boy is so handsome I almost
cried."

"Almost?"

"Okay, I'll admit it. I cried." Lolly's admission was cut short when
Marcela arrived.

She ignored the adults and went straight to the twin who wasn't
sleeping. "Are you Mee Maw's little girl?" she asked and then gave the
baby raspberry kisses. "I'll take Dana to the nursery and when Renee's
awake up bring her on up. Sissy's coming over later and we're going to
dye her hair. She wants to be a redhead. I swear that woman's nuts." She
picked up the baby, then turned to Olivia. "You're looking lovely, as
usual," she said and made a quick exit.

"Thanks, Mee Maw," Olivia called after her. Why was Marcela babysitting,
if they were having a simple family dinner? Olivia's BS meter kicked in.
Something was going on and she intended to find out

74

what. As a matter of fact, Christian didn't look all that innocent, either.

"Okay, what's happening?"

Before either of her hosts could answer, another visitor made an appearance.

"They're doing me a favor."

Olivia would recognize that voice in the middle of a Shriners'
convention. She'd been set up. And by her best friend, no less.

Olivia spun on Lolly. "Lavinia Lee Delacroix, I can't believe you did
this. Especially after our little talk," she snapped. "And you!" She
jabbed a finger at Christian. "Don't think I'll forget this."

"Mind your manners," Lolly interjected. "It's simply fried chicken, not
a peace conference. So take this." she handed a platter of chicken to
her friend, "and get your butt into that dining room before I have to
hurt you."

"Humph." Olivia flounced off, the aroma of chicken wafting behind her.

C.J. put on a sheepish grin. "Uh-oh."

"Yeah, uh-oh. I'm just glad that girl doesn't have a scalpel with her.
She keeps threatening to neuter someone and the thought of that..."

Both men cringed.

"Here." Lolly shoved a bowl of mashed potatoes at her husband. "And
you." She pointed at C.J. "Take this bottle of wine and pour her a huge
glass. I think we'll have to get her drunk."

Absolutely!

Several large goblets of Chardonnay, half a chicken and two pieces of
pie later, Olivia was feeling no pain. What was it about tricky
situations that made her ravenous? Not to mention light-headed and
giggly- Darn it, the giggle bubbled up again. She pushed her goblet
toward C.J. for a refill.

"Nope. That's it for you, little darlin'." He took her hand and held it.
"And you're not about to drive home in your condition."

Flustered beyond belief, Olivia snorted. "I'll walk."

Lolly jumped into the conversation. "It's over five miles to your house.
And if you put one foot out on the street, I'll arrest you for public
intoxication."

"I'll have you know I am not drunk." She'd plead guilty to giddy or
maybe even a bit tipsy, but not drunk. That was too common for words.
"And you're not much of a friend." She didn't actually mean it; Lolly
was closer than a sister.

Ignoring Olivia's remark, Lolly stood up to clear the table. "And this
friend has a couple of babies who are going to wake up hungry, so C.J.
will take you home." She pulled the end of Olivia's ponytail. "I don't
want any guff off you. Christian will drive your car over in the
morning." Lolly disappeared through the kitchen door with an armload of
dirty dishes.

"I guess arguing won't make any difference, huh?" When another giggle
bubbled up Olivia clapped a hand over her mouth.

76

It wasn't the right time to get arrogant, but C.J. was pretty sure he'd
win this skirmish. The larger battle might be another story.

Christian collected the remaining dishes. "You guys need to talk, so why
don't you make yourselves scarce."

"Right, boss." C.J. pulled out Olivia's chair and by sheer willpower
refrained from kissing the back of her neck. She had such a kissable
neck, but that would be a major tactical error. And in this war of wills
he couldn't afford even a tiny blunder.

The sandy road led down to a spit of land facing the ocean. It wasn't
that far from C.J.'s beach house, but it felt like a world away from the
lights and activity of town. Thank goodness the teenage make-out crew
hadn't discovered this little spot of paradise.

C.J. stopped the Explorer at the edge of the dunes. He stole a look at
Olivia. If her back was any straighter he'd be tempted to check her for
rigor mortis.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, and the temperature in the
car dropped at least ten degrees. "I live on Mimosa Trail. If you don't
remember, that's on the other side of town." She gave him her frostiest
glare. "So fire up this car and take me home. Otherwise," she warned
him, "I'll report you for unlawful imprisonment. So there."

His reaction wasn't exactly what Olivia wanted or expected. He chuckled.
Darn it-the man chuckled!

"That does it!" She reached for the door handle,

but it was an official police car and he had full control of all the
locks. "Damn it. Let me out of here."

"Oh, Livy, honey." He massaged the back of her neck. The disaster the
summer before had been his fault and he wasn't about to repeat the
mistake by keeping anything from her. Slowly but surely, he could feel
her resolve weakening. By hook or by crook, that wall she'd built was
about to tumble.

"There's something I have to tell you and I figured I'd better do it
someplace you can't run away from me."

"So you dragged our friends into this mess? How dare you?"

"They both agreed I needed to talk to you. So yes, reluctantly they
helped me."

Olivia maintained her glare. "If this is so earth-shaking, tell me and
make it snappy. I need to go home to paint my toenails."

C.J. leaned over the console as far as he could. Although his range of
motion was limited by the computer and police equipment, he did manage
to slide the scrunchie out of her ponytail and run his fingers through
the fall of satiny hair. "Before you hear it from someone else, I
thought I'd tell you that Selena's back in town. She's staying at Mom's
house."

Total silence.

"She thinks someone was following her in Dallas. It scared her so she
came back to the only place that's ever felt like home. That hellhole
she grew up in in Colombia was never more than a place to sleep.

78

Anyway, I've put out some inquiries to see if this has anything to do
with her brother."

More silence.

He ran a finger down her delicate, but decidedly obdurate, chin. "When I
brought her to this country, she became a member of our family, and part
of the deal with family is safety and protection."

"Hmph!" she snapped, but then she mellowed. "Okay, I understand. But it
doesn't make any difference between us. Selena, no Selena, it really
doesn't matter. I still don't trust you." Especially in matters of the
heart. After a lot of soul-searching Olivia had come to the realization
that Selena was an innocent participant in the whole mess. The fact that
C.J. hadn't loved her enough to tell her about Selena was the problem.
"So, why don't you take me home?"

"Not until I do this." C.J. cupped her head and pulled her closer. He
rubbed his lips back and forth, his tongue insistent on gaining entrance.

"Oh, boy," she muttered. Her ability to resist this guy was practically
nonexistent.

That small concession allowed him to deepen the kiss. And kiss her and
kiss her until reality, in the form of a piece of equipment imbedded in
his side, broke the trance.

He leaned back and sighed. "First of all, I'm too old to neck in a car.
And second, a police cruiser isn't exactly the most romantic place in
town. But-" His admission was interrupted by a blast from the radio. The
alarm at the Piggly Wiggly had gone off.

"I guess I should find out what's happening." He started the engine.
"But I'll give you fair warning. This is far from over."

A decade BEFORE, Olivia's wedding fiasco had been the talk of the Port
Serenity grapevine, so C.J. knew the basics. Corrine had provided the
specifics. He realized that trust and abandonment were huge issues with
Olivia. So his job was to prove he wasn't anything like her ex-fiancé.
When he finally managed to get a ring on her finger, she'd know he
wasn't going anywhere. In fact, he'd be impossible to ditch.

He was a very patient and tenacious man. Giving up wasn't in his nature.

81

It had been two and a half very long days since "the
abduction/seduction"-or whatever the heck it was that C.J. thought he'd
been doing. Surely he didn't think she'd fall into his arms and tell him
everything was just peachy.

Olivia hadn't seen hide nor hair of him-not at Piggly Wiggly or Daisy's
Diner or even the courthouse. Not that she was lurking around that
mausoleum of bureaucracy. The funny thing was, she hadn't seen Selena
around town, either. So what did that mean?

And why couldn't she concentrate? Olivia slammed the huge medical book
shut and rubbed her temples. She was deep in thought when the phone
rang. It was Bren, Lolly's son.

"Hi, Bren honey. What's up?"

"Hi, Aunt Livy. The football team and the band are sponsoring the annual
Bovine Bingo, and I wanted to see if you'd like to buy a ticket." He
paused. "They're expensive, but the grand prize is a trip to the Caribbean."

Olivia was a sucker for a kid selling anything, so of course she'd buy a
ticket, but she had to ask. "How expensive?"

"Twenty-five dollars. But the prizes are all super good. There's a
big-screen TV and a weekend in San Francisco. Really neat stuff. How
about it?"

"Sign me up. Do I get to select my own number?"

"Yep, unless someone else already has it."

"Then I want B-19. My birthday's the 19th and Mrs. Pomerantz, our
resident bingo expert, claims that B numbers always come up."

Olivia could hear some papers rustling. He was obviously checking the
availability of B-19.

"I can give you B-19 in the fourth round. We won't know until that night
which round has the grand prize."

"I'm sure I'll be lucky." She meant that facetiously. Lady Luck hadn't
been in her corner lately.

Bovine Bingo had been an annual May fund-raiser in Port Serenity since
the 1940s. The kids solicited prizes, sold tickets all over town, and on
the day of the big bash they painted a huge bingo card on the football
field. It always turned into a citywide festival with food booths, craft
vendors and games. At the end of the bingo, volunteers from the civic
groups in town did a thorough pooper scoop, set up a temporary wooden
dance floor and then everyone pulled on their boots and had a
rip-roarin', good-time country-western dance.

Olivia and her mom and dad, Rose and Raul,

82

joined Lolly, Christian and the twins in the stands. "We haven't missed
anything, have we?" she asked. "Daddy had to have another corn dog." She
winked at her father.

Even at fifty-five Raul Alvarado was a remarkably handsome man-tall with
dark wavy hair highlighted by silver and twinkling brown eyes.

"Nope, they haven't even brought out the cows yet." Lolly motioned in
the direction of the end zone. "Amanda and Leslie are right in the
middle of the action." One of the stars of Bovine Bingo mooed and tried
to get away from its youthful handler.

"Amanda wants to join 4-H so she can have her own cow," Lolly said with
an exaggerated sigh. "Heaven help us. What's wrong with a gerbil or a
ferret? I might even consider a pony, but I absolutely refuse to keep a
cow in my backyard."

When it came to famous last words, Olivia was sure that proclamation
would one day rank as world-class.

Four well-fed cows were led out onto the field as the high school band
blasted out "Old McDonald." Only in down-home America would productive
college-educated members of society be shouting encouragement to a cow
to "do its business" on a football field. But that was exactly what
happened in Bovine Bingo. Poop on the right spot, and some lucky dude
would win a plasma TV.

"This sure isn't Radio City Music Hall, is it?" Olivia observed.

"Nope, it's pure Texas. And I have 0-63 in the

first round so hush up. My money's on Bessie." Lolly's focus was on the
huge white-faced Hereford moseying over to the edge of the bingo card to
find better grazing. And everyone knew a happy cow was a relaxed cow.
"Go Bessie!" she shouted, then turned to Olivia. "The prize for this
round is a wide-screen TV." About that time Bessie wandered over to the
G squares and plopped a big one on G-57. A shout went up from the other
side of the stadium. "Crumb. I really wanted that TV."

"You still have a chance for one of the consolation prizes," Olivia
commented.

"Like I really want a six-month supply of bait shrimp?"

"I'm going for tacos. You girls want anything?" Raul asked.

"No, Daddy, I'm fine. How about you guys?" Olivia asked the group in
general. By this time Marcela and Aunt Sissy had joined them. Olivia had
always thought of the sisters as the dynamic duo.

"Aunt Sissy, I love the red hair," Olivia said, and realized she
actually meant the compliment. There was something about those sisters
that defied age.

Christian pushed the baby carrier closer to Lolly. Both twins were
asleep-and that in itself was a miracle. "I'll go with you, Raul." He
leaned over and kissed Lolly. "I'll be back in a few minutes. You want
an ice cream?"

"Sure, chocolate with sprinkles."

The hooting and hollering continued unabated. B-12 won a year's supply
of oil changes at the Jiffy

84

Job. O-67 walked away with a weekend at the Sea-crest Inn in Corpus Christi.

"Lordy mercy, look at that." Lolly pointed at the end zone where the
cows were grazing. Amanda was clutching one end of a halter while
another teenager coaxed a Guernsey out on the field. "I can see it now.
In a year I'll have Old Bossy as a permanent tenant. Just how long does
a cow live if it doesn't become hamburger?" she asked Olivia. "And do
you make house calls on large animals or would I have to buy a trailer?"

Olivia patted her friend's arm. "For you, I'll do a house call. And
their life expectancy is about fifteen years."

"Good heavens, in fifteen years Renee and Dana will be in high school."

Now that was something to think about. In fifteen years, Olivia and
Lolly would be creeping up on fifty. Madre de Dios!

Olivia was contemplating middle age when the fourth round started.

"What's your number?" Lolly asked.

"B-19." Olivia turned her attention to the field. "I wasn't listening.
What's the prize this time?"

"It's the Caribbean cruise for two," Lolly answered. "And-" she waved
toward the field "-that big black-and-white bovine is wandering over to
the B squares. Look, look, look!" She was gesturing at the cow grazing
in the middle of the B-19 square.

"Do it, do it, do it," Olivia muttered, holding up her crossed fingers.
"That's it, go for it." And sure enough,

the cow complied. "Yes!" she squealed and pumped a fist in the air. "I'm
off to the Caribbean." Olivia ran down to the field to claim her prize.
The only time she'd ever been a winner was in junior high-and that was
burgers for two at the Dairy Queen.

She handed the winning number to the announcer and sashayed out to the
B-19 square, careful to avoid the unmentionables. Strappy sandals and
cow leavings-yuck!

A voice boomed from the loudspeaker. "And the winner of our Caribbean
cruise for two is...wait a minute." There was a long pause while Olivia
fidgeted and waved to the audience.

"Uh-oh." The announcer cleared his throat. "Seems we have two winners.
I'm not sure how that happened. At any rate, the winners are Dr. Olivia
Alvarado and Sheriff C. J. Baker. Maybe they can take the trip
together." A wave of chuckles rolled through the audience.

Olivia glared at C.J. as he sauntered out onto the field. How dared he
horn in on her prize? When he joined her, she let him have it with both
barrels. "How did you manage to rig it so this...this... this-" she
waved a hand in the direction of the now grazing Jersey "-this cow did
your bidding?" Okay, that sounded unreasonable, even to her ears.

His grin was so big that his dimple seemed cavernous. "Little darlin',
even I couldn't manage that stunt. As for us both having the same
number, it has to be a royal screw-up or some kind of great cosmic joke.
Never seen it happen before."

86

"Hmph!" Great-she was reduced to monosyllabic comments. What was it
about this guy that left her speechless? And what was with the duplicate
numbers? Was her godson in on some matchmaking deal-no way, it had to be
a big goof.

He tipped back his Stetson and grinned. "We could use it for our honeymoon."

"What?" That did it. He could have the cruise. She started to stomp off
but he grabbed her arm and yanked her into his arms. Then right there,
in front of the Port Serenity High School band and football team, the
Chamber of Commerce and half the folks in town, he launched into a
world-class lip lock while the audience hooted encouragement.

Much to Olivia's chagrin, her knees turned to Jell-O as she melted
against him. This wasn't Dr. Olivia Alvarado, cum laude graduate of vet
school, who clutched the back of his neck and wholeheartedly got into
the spirit of the kiss. Absolutely not!

She'd never, ever, do anything like that. Especially not right in middle
of B-19-that would be more common than pig tracks.

87

Olivia was involved in a therapeutic baking session. Chocolate had
always been a great antidote for man trouble. Whenever she thought about
necking with C.J. in front of half the town, she wanted to beat her head
on a hard surface. She was necking with him- necking! Ye gods.

She was contemplating a primal scream when a tap on the back door
heralded the arrival of a flurry of blond females.

"Hi, Aunt Livy. Mama and I are headed to Super Saver to get me a South
Beach Barbie. Are you making chocolate chip cookies and can I have some
dough?" The young dynamo dashed to the bowl, finger ready to sample the
uncooked goodies.

"It's 'may I'; and you're not doing anything until you wash your hands."
Lolly admonished. She made shooing motions toward the powder room at the
front of the house.

"South Beach Barbie?" Olivia inquired as she took out a pan of cookies.

88

Before the chocolate morsels had a chance to cool Lolly found a spatula
and lifted a cookie. "Chocolate chips and brownies?" She eyed the iced
chocolate goodies. "Last time I remember you making cookies and brownies
was when Dr. Taylor sold the vet practice and you thought you'd have to
move to Corpus and work at the 24-hour emergency clinic. I don't suppose
I have to ask what's got your knickers in a twist, do I?"

Olivia sat down and put her head in her hands. "No, I don't guess so.
C.J. has me so discombobulated I don't know what to do. I can't believe
I was kissing him in the middle of the football field. But I can't seem
to help myself. Swear to goodness, whenever he lays a pinkie on me, my
brain goes on vacation. And damn it all, he's sexy and adorable and funny."

Lolly chuckled, tried to stop herself and then reverted to a series of
giggles. "Actually, I couldn't quite believe that kiss, either. I'm
surprised you guys didn't singe the grass. And what did he say to you
before he so graciously gave you the prize?"

Unable to come up with any good lie, Olivia shook her head. "He said we
could use it for our honeymoon."

Her admission elicited another hoot of laughter. "That boy has the nerve
of a riverboat gambler. Honeymoon! Wait till I tell Christian."

Olivia was about to tell her to back off; she wasn't in the mood for
sarcasm. But the opportunity was lost when Amanda returned.

"Mama, look what I found in the bathroom, it would go great with my pig
collection."

The child was holding the pink pig Florene had given Olivia as a hostess
gift. She had forgotten she'd put it under the sink in the powder room.

"Amanda, you know better than to go snooping in people's private stuff."

"Yes, ma'am. I was just trying to find a towel."

Amanda seemed about to cry, so Olivia gave her a big hug. "That's okay,
sweetie. I forgot I had it. It was so ugly I just stuck it away. Tell
you what. Let me keep it a little while longer just to make sure Miz
Hardaway doesn't want it back, and then it's yours." She glanced
apologetically at Lolly. "That is, if it's all right with your mama."

"I guess that's okay." Lolly held her arms out for her daughter. "Now,
thank your aunt Livy for bailing you out."

"Thanks, Aunt Livy. Can I..." She paused and started her sentence again.
"May I have a cookie?"

"Sure enough." Olivia handed Amanda the plate. "You also need some for
the road." She rummaged in the cabinet for a small plastic bowl. "Here
you go." She put a dozen warm cookies in the container and snapped the
lid shut.

Lolly stood to leave. "I had a purpose for coming by other than getting
under your skin about C.J. and raiding your cookie jar. Mee Maw's been
snookered into doing a Sara Belle bash and she needs all the warm bodies
she can find."

"Oh, please. Isn't one party enough?"

90

"Definitely-but if you'll help out my mom, I promise we'll only stay for
a head count and then I'll take you to dinner."

"Oh, all right." Olivia sighed in resignation-she knew she wouldn't win
this one. Lolly had perfected her wheedling skills at a very young age
and she wasn't the least bit shy about using them. "But I absolutely
will not be a model." The episode with C.J. and the red teddy was
indelibly imprinted on her memory. "And I am not a cheap date. I veto
the Pizza Place."

"How about the Shrimp Shack?" Lolly named the fried-food mecca of Port
Serenity.

C.J. looked up from the report he was studying. "What do you need,
Harv?" His detective was standing in the doorway trying to get his
attention.

"The Bayou Church has been vandalized. The office was tossed and they
also hit the storage areas. Seems they did a pretty thorough search. I
thought you'd want to know."

Church vandalism was rare in Aransas County. And the fact that it had
happened at Brother Hardaway's church made it a bit more interesting.
But one glance at the pile of folders on his desk and C.J. decided his
deputies could handle the problem. That didn't stop him from asking
about the investigation.

"And?" he asked.

"And you said to be on the lookout for anyone new or suspicious in town
and I think this may qualify." The deputy paused for dramatic effect.
"We have a couple

of witnesses. Mrs. Pomerantz and Mrs. Schmidt were collecting cans from
the church Dumpster."

"Good God, what were they doing Dumpster diving?" C.J. wanted to groan.
"Go on."

"They saw two guys drive in on motorcycles and then pick the lock on the
front door."

"I hate to even ask, but how did they know they were picking the lock?"

"I suspect they watch too much Court TV."

C.J. agreed with his deputy's assessment. "Did they by any chance give
you a description of the suspects or provide any license plate numbers
for the bikes?"

"They said one of the guys was the spitting image of Cesar Romero and
the other one was so ugly his mama should have sent him back at birth.
Plus they said neither of the dudes had helmets on. But they didn't get
a plate number."

C.J. raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, boss." The detective held up his hands in surrender. "That's
exactly what they said. And who is Cesar Romero?"

"Beats me."

Great-his only two witnesses were Dumpster-diving octogenarians.

This particular crime had no connection with Selena, but it prompted
C.J. to do some more research on her problem. He picked up the phone and
punched in a number he knew well from his previous life.

92

After numerous clicks and several rings in a faraway country, a man
answered. "Whatcha want?"

"I haven't seen you in five years and your phone manners haven't
improved one bit."

"Neither have my table manners. How ya doin' there, old buddy?"

If they'd been face-to-face, his friend and informant would be slapping
him on the back. "Not bad. I need a favor."

"Name it," the man said with certainty.

C.J. explained he was looking for information on Enrique Bolivar's
whereabouts and activities-particularly in relation to Selena.

"I'll put my ear to the ground and let you know what I find out," his
friend assured him and rang off.

His next plan of attack included a call to Christian.

"Have you learned anything about Bolivar?" CJ. asked. He was being
abrupt, but he was antsy as hell.

"Nice to hear from you, too," Christian answered. "And no. I've put out
feelers everywhere and I still haven't heard anything. Meet me tonight,
say around six at the Shoreline, and we'll see if we can come up with a
game plan."

"Sounds good to me." If, with all their contacts, they couldn't Figure
out what the guy was doing, he was probably up to no good. And that
didn't bode well for Selena's safety.

Christian was already at the bar when CJ. arrived for their strategy
session. He pushed a basket of fried

shrimp at his friend. "Here, you look like you could use some junk food."

C.J. picked up a shrimp. "Thanks, Dr. Delacroix. You probably think I
need a beer, too."

"Yep," Christian replied and motioned to the waitress.

They waited until C.J. ordered and then got down to business. Even
though they were familiar with most of the players in the drug
underworld, they'd struck out on information other than some vague
rumors. And if they planned to go head-to-head with Enrique Bolivar they
had to have a whole lot more than idle gossip. Jeez!

95

C.J. had been mysteriously absent since the infamous night at the
football field-not that Olivia had noticed. Yeah, right! She realized he
was busy with the Selena situation and then there was the Bayou Church
vandalism, but he did have a telephone. And speaking of phones, Olivia
was updating her patient notes when hers rang.

"Hi, sweetie. Are you busy?" Rose asked.

"Hi. Mom. I'm finishing up my paperwork and then I have to check on a
beagle with a broken leg. He ran out in front of a car."

"Oh, my. That poor driver must have been in a tizzy."

"She sure was. But it was sort of a case of the dog hitting the car
instead of the other way around. And he'll be okay. We just want to keep
him overnight." Olivia could hear loud conversation in the background.
Uh-oh, it sounded like an Alvarado family get-together. "What's up?"

Rose lowered her voice. "Aunt Emelda is here and she brought Cousin
Maria and her family. Your aunt

is making enchiladas." Her voice was almost a whisper. "I'm desperate
for moral support and your dad's holed up in the den watching bass
fishing on TV. He's no help at all." Rose continued without pausing.
"Can I tempt you with a big plate of enchiladas?"

That suggestion brought on a big sigh. She'd rather dine at a Greyhound
bus station than face Aunt Emelda, but how could she refuse her mother's
pitiful plea. "Okay. I'll be there in about an hour." When had Caspar
Milquetoast taken over her body? She knew the word "no," really she did.
But Aunt Emelda was the enchilada diva of south Texas.

The fragrant smell of Tex-Mex cuisine tickled her nose the minute she
opened the front door. That welcome was immediately undone by the sounds
of pre-pubescent discord coming from the living room. Cousin Maria was
okay, but her four kids were little terrors. Between six and eleven in
age, they could take "he touched me" and "she's looking at me" routines
to an altogether new level. The latest screech had Olivia reevaluating
the merits of the best enchiladas south of San Antonio.

She ducked into the den. Sure enough, her dad was in his Barcalounger,
the TV blaring a Budweiser commercial. "Hi, Daddy." She hugged him
around the neck. He had always been her hero. He was able to manage the
park system of Port Serenity while keeping up with Rose, and that was no
easy feat. But even he couldn't handle Aunt Emelda.

"I think your mother could use some reinforcements." He flinched visibly
at the next high-pitched

96

scream. "The only reason she hasn't scalped those kids is Aunt Emelda
and el mat ojo." Olivia could tell he really, really wanted to cross
himself but refrained. Then he grinned. "I'm a chicken."

"Oh, Daddy, come on, get brave." Olivia picked up the remote and turned
off the TV. "If I have to go in there, so do you."

Olivia had to lean way down to kiss her great-aunt's weathered cheek.
"That was fantastic and I'm stuffed. But I think I'll head home now."
Emelda Delgado was a five-foot-tall, roly-poly dynamo, and as the
matriarch of the family she was a force to be reckoned with. Her
religion was a quirky mixture of Catholicism and mysticism, with a
smidgen of Mayan sun worship thrown in.

Emelda put her hands on Olivia's cheeks. "I want you to bring the young
man of your heart to see me. He's a good person and he loves you." She
peered into Olivia's eyes. "There's danger out there, and it's looking
for you. You must promise to be very careful."

Olivia suppressed a shudder. As much as she hated to admit it, in her
heart she believed that her relative had the "sight." And when that
woman decided to brew up a love potion or even worse, a curse-watch out!

Olivia was still thinking about Emelda's strange warning when she drove
out of her parents' gravel driveway. Her folks lived in the south end of
the county because Mama liked the solitude and Daddy loved the sound of
the surf.

Tim McGraw was crooning on the CD player, she had a great car, the moon
was high, her tummy was full of enchiladas and there was the slightest
smell of brine in the air. Her only worry was Aunt Emelda's vague
warning, but Olivia decided to think about that later.

C.J. was driving home from his meeting with Christian when the radio
crackled. The medics and a deputy had been dispatched to Ida Whitaker's
house. Talk about a name that brought on a cold sweat. Mrs. Whitaker
started teaching third grade around the time of the ice age, and she'd
been the bane of his eight-year-old existence. After-school detention
was almost standard operating procedure. He wasn't that bad-really!

C.J. whipped the Explorer around and headed straight to Mrs. Whitaker's
house. Not that he cared what happened to the old battle-ax, but he was
already in the neighborhood.

An EMT vehicle was parked in the driveway and the front door of the
white clapboard house was standing wide open. A crescendo of barking
almost drowned out the sound of voices.

Almost three decades ago, she'd been larger than life to C.J. Now she
was a delicate white-haired woman in a pink nightgown. He could have run
over her in the middle of town and not recognized her, but his former
teacher knew him instantly.

"Cookie Baker, get in here and tell these people I'm not going to the
hospital," she insisted.

98

Obviously age hadn't diminished her commanding voice. The attending
deputy's grin was cut short by his boss's scowl.

C.J. kneeled by the gurney and tipped his Stetson. "Mrs. Whitaker,
ma'am. Let me talk to these nice folks and find out what your problem
is." He patted her arm.

The feisty octogenarian swatted his hand. "Don't be condescending to me,
young man. Don't forget, I knew you when you thought blowing milk out
your nose would impress the girls."

Busted! Stories about this conversation were going to run through the
sheriff's office like wildfire.

"You mean it didn't?"

She swatted him again, affectionately this time. "You always were an
annoying kid. Cute as a button, but a complete pain in the rear."

"Yes, ma'am." As an eight-year old his primary goal had been to create
chaos and obviously he'd succeeded. But he was a grown-up now, and it
was back to business.

He addressed one of the EMTs. "Hi, Jerry, what's up?"

"We think she has a broken hip, so we need to take her to the hospital."

"I'm right here, young man. Don't talk about me in the third person."

Thoroughly chastised, Jerry bowed his head. "Yes, ma'am."

"Now, Mrs. Whitaker, you really do need to let these folks help you."

"All right, all right." She waved one hand in the

air. "I'll go to the hospital. But you have to promise me you'll take
care of Fluffy. My sister just went to the assisted living center, so I
can't send my puppy to her." She tweaked C.J.'s cheek. "You're the only
person I would trust with my baby."

"Yes, ma'am." Not that he had any intention of keeping a dog, not with
his busy schedule. "I presume the barking is coming from Fluffy."

"Yes. He's such a sweetie. And I can't go off and leave him with just
anyone. They might take him to the dog pound. But I have faith in you."
Her eyes misted.

One of the medics cleared his throat. "Are we ready to go?" he asked.

C.J. was on the spot. The woman was obviously in pain and in need of
medical attention. Plus it didn't look like she'd accept a no. "Tell you
what. I'll take him for the time being. Then we'll figure out what you
want to do. How's that?"

Mrs. Whitaker nodded as the barking grew more frenzied.

C.J. walked over and opened the door, freeing a tiny canine dervish.
Fluffy jumped on the stretcher and bathed his mama's face in kisses.

He was a cute dog in a fluffy sort of way, but C.J. liked big, manly
canine companions, and this little ball of white fur sported pink bows
on his ears. Pink bows!

"Fluffy, listen to mama. Sheriff Baker will take care of you." Mrs.
Whitaker was talking to the puppy as if he could understand. And darn
it, the dog cocked his head and appeared to be listening.

100

"So you be a good boy." She shooed the dog off the gurney and the next
thing CJ. knew, he had Fluffy in his arms.

Fluffy gave one swipe of his tongue over CJ.'s cheek and then settled
down to be carried.

"No lickin', ya hear." CJ. felt the need to establish his alpha
position. Unfortunately, it was already too late.

He and Fluffy watched the ambulance roar away. "Looks like we're stuck
with each other, huh?" CJ. could swear the dog nodded, but that was silly.

CJ. deposited the dog on the passenger seat and sprinted to the other
side of the car. After an exploration of the computer terminal and other
assorted police equipment, Fluffy made himself at home and was snoring
before CJ. put the Explorer in gear. CJ. could hear the Sonic beckoning,
his snack of fried shrimp and beer a distant memory.

It wasn't until Fluffy jumped over the console and eyed CJ.'s burger
that he realized he hadn't packed any of the dog's things. He didn't
have any kibble, or a dish or a leash. And darn it, even the Super Saver
was closed.

The dog's big brown eyes breached CJ.'s last line of defense, and there
went half his burger. Then he shared a large order of cheese fries and a
Frito chili pie with his new friend.

It wasn't until he was on the road that he heard the ominous tummy
growls. Uh-oh. He'd screwed up-big time! The tummy rumbles continued, and

when they were accompanied by noxious fumes CJ. realized that a patch of
grass was his top priority.

CJ. was sitting on the curb contemplating his latest predicament when
Olivia's 'Vette screamed into the parking lot and skidded to a stop. If
he hadn't been dealing with a more pressing problem, swear to goodness,
he'd have given that girl a speeding ticket.

The emergency bar on the top of the Explorer was the first thing that
caught Olivia's attention. During the few seconds it took for her brain
cells to fire, she almost passed the parking lot where CJ.'s car was
sitting with the passenger door open. She spun into the lot and slid to
a stop, oblivious to the fact that C J. was on the curb watching the
whole operation.

"Sweetheart, I should rescind your license. Do you ever drive that thing
under the speed limit?" he drawled.

Irritated by the question, Olivia flounced over and joined him on the
curb. "What are you-" Before she could finish the question she spied
Fluffy who had finished his business and was nestled in CJ.'s lap. "And
who is that?"

"This-" he held Fluffy up to face level "-is Fluffy. Against my better
judgment, I'm his temporary guardian. You remember Mrs. Whitaker, our
third-grade teacher, don't you?"

"Of course I remember her. I was her pet, unlike someone I know." She
couldn't resist the jab.

"Yeah, and she never did discover that you filched my box of 64
Crayolas. Anyway, she broke her hip this evening and I temporarily
inherited him."

102

Fluffy burped as he tried to reach Olivia's face for a big sloppy kiss.
As a pet-lover she leaned forward to accommodate his show of affection.

"And please tell me why you're sitting on a curb holding Fluffy when
it's way past everyone's bedtime?"

C.J. wrinkled his nose. "I'm trying to figure out how to clean that up."
He pointed at the results of Fluffy's intestinal distress.

Olivia couldn't help her hoot of laughter-her misgivings about C.J.
temporarily forgotten.

"I think maybe it was something he ate," C.J. admitted.

"And what did he eat?"

"Half a hamburger, most of a Frito pie and a bunch of cheese fries."

She snickered again. "What in heaven's name are you doing, feeding junk
food to a dog. His bowel habits won't be normal until he expels it all
from his system."

C.J. dropped his head in his hands. "Great, just freakin' fantastic." He
gave Olivia his sexiest grin. "Could I convince my best vet friend to
come out to my house and get him settled? I promise I'll be good." To
seal the promise he gave his best Boy Scout salute. "Honest, I'm desperate."

Against her better judgment, Olivia decided to take pity. "Do you have
any kibble?"

"Nope."

Olivia shook her head-men could be so clueless. "Follow me to the clinic
so I can pick some up. Then

we'll go to your place. And C.J., I swear to goodness if you try
anything funny, you'll live to regret it."

Honest to God, she tried her best to be scary, but C.J. wasn't buying it.

"Scout's honor, I'll be good." He didn't bother to tell her he hadn't
been a Boy Scout.

105

Olivia unloaded a dog bed, a bag of chew toys, a sack of dog food, a
leash and two stainless steel bowls from the trunk of her car. "Don't
just stand there, come and help me," she instructed. CJ. was holding
Fluffy and watching the operation.

He surveyed the growing pile of canine equipment. "He's not spending the
rest of his life here. As soon as Mrs. Whitaker is well, this guy's
going home." When he held Fluffy up, he was rewarded with a face full of
puppy kisses. "Jeez, I wish he'd stop that." CJ. wiped his mouth with
the back of his sleeve.

Olivia laughed at the disgust on his face. "He loves you. And regardless
of how long he's going to be a visitor, he has to have some basics." She
picked up the wicker dog bed and pillow. "Plus, we need to get some
medicine down him before he has to do his business again."

"Right," CJ. quickly agreed, even as he continued his staring match with
the canine. After he was the first to blink, CJ. grabbed some more of the

equipment and marched up the stairs to the wraparound porch. He'd been
outstared by a dog.

"Nice place," Olivia commented as she trailed behind. "I'd love to have
a house on the beach."

CJ. unlocked the front door and turned on the lights. "It needs a lot of
work and that's why I could afford it. Actually, what it really needs is
an interior decorator."

Boy, was he right about that. It was a study in '70s retro, down to the
orange shag carpet. Olivia's fingers itched to slap on a coat of paint
and rip out the hideous floor covering. "I guess you don't have time to
get into a house remodel, huh?"

"Nope. I'm pretty busy these days." CJ. and Fluffy "had retreated to the
kitchen, where the human half of the duo was trying to convince the
canine that a nap would be a good idea.

"Just give him some water," Olivia suggested. "Tomorrow morning you
should give him a small bit of plain white rice and cottage cheese. If
he tolerates that, you can increase the amount. For now, I'll give him a
little something to help settle his intestines." She pulled a large
bottle of Pepto-Bismol out of her bag and gave the patient a puppy-size
dose.

Apparently all the excitement had put Fluffy in a mellow mood. He licked
the remaining pink liquid off his furry lips, gingerly sniffed the bed,
made three big circles of his accommodations, gave a Great Dane-sized
burp and plopped down, falling into a deep sleep almost instantly.

"Puppies do that," Olivia commented. "I'll bet in

106

the middle of the night you find him on your bed with his head on your
pillow."

There was a certain dark-haired beauty C.J. would rather have in his bed
with her head on his pillow, but for the moment he'd give those
lascivious thoughts a rest. After all, he had given his word. She'd said
no funny business! So he'd better find something else to do with his
mind-and his hands.

"Can I interest you in a glass of wine?" He opened the refrigerator door
and held up an unopened bottle of white wine. "I also have some Cokes
and a couple of Coronas." It had been a long time since C.J. had
entertained, so the selection was sparse.

Wine wasn't the best idea in the world, especially considering Olivia's
last encounter with the grape at Lolly's house, but it would take the
edge off. "I'd love some wine." C.J. really did look cute fumbling
around in the kitchen drawer for a corkscrew. Could he be domesticated?
Or trusted? And why did it matter?

"What kind of dog do you think he is?" C.J. pointed the corkscrew at
Fluffy. "Mrs. Whitaker said he's a poodle, but he's not shaped like any
poodle I've ever seen." The ersatz poodle opened one eye, but apparently
he didn't think the conversation was worthy of his attention, so he fell
back asleep.

Olivia studied the pooch. "He looks like a bicha-doodle to me."

C.J. handed her a glass of wine. "And that sounds like a bunch of bull
to me."

Olivia took a sip and laughed. "I'm pretty sure

he's mostly bichon frise with a little bit of poodle thrown in. Plus, he
has a Jack Russell attitude. It's that big dog personality in a little
dog body. I think he's adorable."

If only she thought he was adorable. "Let's go out on the deck." C.J.
drew her out onto the wide wooden porch. The only sounds were the soft
lull of the waves and the electronic zap of his mosquito terminator when
an errant insect trolled too close. He lit several citronella candles as
another line of defense.

"Have a seat." He indicated the two chaise longues. "Do you want a
snack? I could probably scare up some crackers."

Olivia was encouraged by the fact that he seemed almost as nervous as
she felt. There were so many things to discuss. Their relationship,
Selena, trust, their relationship... Lord, was she obsessed or what? She
really couldn't continue with the status quo- C.J. always touching her
and nuzzling her and kissing her. Something had to be done.

So going by the theory that a good offense beat a better defense, she
pressed on. "I guess it's time for us to have a talk, huh?" Olivia tried
for casual but was afraid she might have failed miserably. Her mouth was
as dry as the Sahara, but gulping the wine was a really bad idea.

C.J. rested his elbows on his knees and twirled the stem of his glass.
"Since my goof in not explaining Selena is at the root of our problems,
do you want me to tell you about her?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

108

He smiled at her ambivalent answer. "It's a long story." He explained
how he had met Selena at her brother's mountain fortress. "Selena
learned English through Brady Bunch reruns. And she was smart enough to
know what her brother had in mind, so she kept herself dressed like an
urchin kid. You've seen her. It wasn't a very believable disguise and
some of the hard-core bad guys were trying to force the issue. It was
only a matter of time before someone raped her, so I decided to get her
out of there."

C.J. described how he'd spirited her out of Bolivar's clutches and
hidden her until he could work out the bureaucratic tangle of getting
her into the U.S. "Christian, the captain and I called in every marker
we had to make that deal." He shrugged, recalling the operation. "And
even to this day, I'm sure if Enrique Bolivar discovers where she is,
he'll pull every trick in the book to kidnap her and get her back. He
thinks she's that valuable a commodity. And believe me, that's all she
is to him-a possession. But she's like my little sister and I'll protect
her with my life."

"Why didn't you tell me this before we got involved?"

That was a good question. Why hadn't he put everything on the table? The
simple answer was he didn't know if Olivia would understand and he
didn't want to jeopardize their fledgling relationship. Yet by not being
completely honest he'd learned a valuable, but incredibly painful,
lesson. When it came to dealing with women, particularly Olivia, honesty
was the

best policy. And how did he explain that without digging himself in even
deeper?

"I love you and I didn't want to lose you," he answered as sincerely as
he could.

Olivia had never thought of herself as a hearts-and-flowers kind of
girl, but these were the most romantic words he could have said. And
they were probably the only words that would have softened her heart,
although she did intend to keep that very tender organ well protected.
"Oh, honey, you wouldn't have lost me." She moved next to him on the
chaise and ran her fingers through his shaggy, sun-kissed hair. "You did
the only thing an honorable person could have done. What I'm having a
hard time accepting is the fact that you didn't tell me."

He gave her one of his world-class smiles. "How about if I promise to
always be completely honest with you, even if you ask me whether your
dress makes your butt look fat." With that comment, his dimple made a
surprise appearance.

Olivia launched herself at him, fighting a bout of giggles. Oops!
Considering the fact she was now trapped beneath his long, lean body,
that bit of silliness had turned into a major error. A delicious
miscalculation.

"You know what, little darlin' ? I think I fell in love with you way,
way back when you first became the coroner, and you were bein' all
official." He traced her lips with his tongue. "You were so prickly and
feisty I couldn't resist." Then he dipped his head and kissed from her
collarbone to the deep V of her cleavage.

110

Holy moly! It was a good thing she wasn't standing; her legs wouldn't
have held her up.

"And I've wanted to do this for months." C.J. gently removed the clip
holding her ponytail and ran his fingers through her hair. "It feels so
good." The velvety strands sifted through his fingers as he held it up
to his face and rubbed like a cat-a big sexy tomcat. "You're so
beautiful," he sighed, and started a foray of kisses from her neck, to
the delicate swirl of her ear, and across her cheek to the corner of her
lips, and then back, bypassing her lips to start again on the other side.

The damn man was driving her crazy with lust. "Kiss me," she demanded
and pulled his head down to feast on his sexy, sexy lips.

When C J. came up for breath, he gave her another of his patented
bad-boy grins. "That's what I like, a woman who knows what she wants."
He chuckled. "Especially when she wants my body."

"Shut up and kiss me," she muttered, pulling up his T-shirt. She wasn't
sure how it had happened, but her brain had disconnected and her body
was fully in charge. She was lost, lost, lost. She was savoring the
contrast between the crispy hair on his chest and the smooth skin of his
back and reveling in his unique smell, which was both masculine and
clean. She'd never be able to smell Irish Spring soap again without
having a hot flash.

The tornado of emotions was hot and primitive but gentle and infinitely
satisfying.

Uh-oh-there were too many clothes in this equation. Time for him to
ditch the jeans, although the way he was intimately nestled between her
legs and the friction of that denim was extremely erotic. They were
pelvis to pelvis, and he was kissing her with a feverish intensity. And
kissing wasn't all he did with a feverish intensity. No, sirree.

113

Olivia awoke with a start. It was the nightmare again. That nightmare
where she was standing at the altar in a long white dress and everyone
in town was watching and waiting-while her heart broke into a thousand
little pieces. Without a groom, there wouldn't be a wedding, and in
every one of those dreams the groom was missing in action. Just like it
had been in real life.

Before Olivia opened her eyes she knew she'd made a terrible mistake.
With C.J.'s hand resting on her waist and a hairy leg thrown over hers,
escape would be tough but staying wasn't an option. Damn it-the sun
wasn't up and she was trying to figure out how to sneak out like some
kind of thief. Men!-

A stream of sunlight on his face brought C.J. out of an erotic dream
featuring Olivia. He rolled over as something wet and cold nuzzled his
neck and then went for his lips. That had possibilities, but what was
with the wet-and-cold bit? C.J. cracked open one

eye and discovered a black nose accompanied by two button eyes and a wet
pink tongue.

"Yech!" He wiped a hand over his lips. "You have dog breath." Fluffy was
his only bed partner, and probably had been for quite a while. Where was
Olivia? Crap. He was obsessed with the most stubborn and skittish woman
in south Texas. Talk about a recipe for heartburn.

"And you." He pointed a finger at the dog. "Your new name is Fang. Get
used to it, because I'm not sharing my house or my car with anyone named
Fluffy." C.J. stood up and stretched. "And since I obviously don't have
anything better to do this morning, I'm off to the office and you're
going with me."

Fluffy pranced to the end of the bed and perked up his ears.

Since Olivia was on weekend call, she went back to the clinic after she
had "escaped" from C.J.'s house. When her rounds were finished she
headed over to her parents' house. Normally her first choice for girl
talk would be Lolly, but the Delacroix family was in San Antonio.

"Hi, Mom. That smells great." Bacon was sizzling in the pan and a fresh
pot of coffee was brewing. It was a typical Sunday breakfast at the
Alvarado house.

Rose's intuition took over almost immediately. "Oh, baby, what's the
matter?" She turned off the stove and slipped an arm around her
daughter. "Sit down and I'll make you some tea. Then you can tell me why you

114

hightailed it over here on a Sunday morning, without even trying the old
'I want pancakes' excuse." Rose bustled to the stove and put on the
kettle. Tea and sympathy were an age-old Irish tradition.

"Oh, Mama." Olivia rested her head in her hands. "I did something
incredibly stupid."

Rose didn't comment as she dropped two tea bags into the teapot.

"I spent the night with CJ."

Rose covered the teapot with a quilted cozy and sat down.

"And I think I love him," Olivia cried. "I know it's stupid, and I
probably need therapy, and I know it's the reason I'm going to end up an
old-maid cat lady, but I can't seem to get past the Brian fiasco.
Aaahh!" she screeched. "Why can't I just trust C.J.? One hundred percent
wholeheartedly trust him."

Rose patted her shoulder. "Oh, Livy, sweetheart." She ran a hand down
Olivia's hair. "CJ. isn't Brian. Swear to God, if I had Brian here right
now I'd kill him."

Just the thought of her fiery, protective mother doing bodily harm to
her ex-fiancé brought a smile to Olivia's face.

"Did I tell you he called me the other day?" Olivia asked.

"No, you didn't."

"I still don't know what he wanted. He just sort of beat around the
bush. You know, typical Brian BS."

"Hmm."

"He did tell me he divorced his second wife."

Again Rose responded with a noncommittal hmm.

"He has a vet practice in Houston, so if you want to go up there and
slap him around, I wouldn't object."

"I'll think about it. Although I doubt he's worth the effort. Now pour
us both a cup and tell me why you're here and not at C.J.'s beach house."

That was a good question, and not one that Olivia could easily answer.

"Don't even say it," CJ. advised the desk sergeant. The fact that he was
at work on a Sunday morning was nothing unusual, but this time he was
accompanied by a prancing white dog with pink bows on its ears. "His
name is Fang, and he's here because I can't leave him at home alone."
His tiny companion was madly wagging his tail. "He used my couch as a
snack while I was in the shower. No telling what he'd do if I left him
for eight hours."

"Do you have any chew toys?" the desk sergeant asked.

CJ. nodded. He had a whole bag of the worthless things.

"Didn't work, huh?"

C J. shook his head.

"Then why don't you get one of those big cow leg bones down at the
butcher shop. My Doberman thinks he's died and gone to heaven when he
gets one."

Great, just what he needed-his sissy little lap-dog gnawing on half a
steer. "Thanks, I'll consider

116

it." C.J. strolled back to his office and threw himself into his chair.

Weekends usually provided a quiet opportunity to do paperwork, but this
Sunday was different. He couldn't stop thinking about his incredible
night with Olivia. And damn it-why had she scooted out of his place as
if it was on fire? With that woman, it was one step forward and ten
steps back.

Fang had settled into an old leather chair and was snoring like a
linebacker-at least someone was comfortable. Before C.J. could start on
the pile of folders littering his desk, the phone rang. "Hey, boss.
There's someone out here you're gonna want to see."

"And how do you know that?" At the moment C.J. wasn't in the mood to see
anyone, not unless she was tall, sexy and had a ponytail.

"It's your brother, Chandler."

C.J. threw down the phone without even answering. His brother was
supposed to be in Iraq working as a photojournalist. And if he wasn't
where he was supposed to be, something was terribly wrong.

He sprinted down the hall and threw open the door. Crap! His normally
robust brother was thin, almost to the point of being gaunt, and he was
leaning on a cane. C.J. rushed out and wrapped Chandler in a bear hug.
"What the hell are you doing here?" That wasn't very diplomatic, but
diplomacy wasn't a big part of their relationship-the brothers were more
into the rough-and-tumble, slap-on-the-back kind of love.

They were unmistakably similar in looks. They had

the same tall broad-shouldered build and blond hair. But where C.J. had
a cocky charming persona, Chandler was darker, more sensual and
introspective-the stereotype of a globe-trotting photojournalist.

Chandler pointed toward the door with his cane. "Let's go back to your
office. I have a lot to tell you before I let Mom know I'm here."

That didn't sound good. Added to the fact that his brother appeared to
have been on the losing end of a ten-round bout with George Foreman, and
things were not looking sunny.

Chandler lost his grim expression when he spied Fang. The dog simply
opened one eye, sniffed and fell back to sleep. "Don't tell me that mutt
belongs to you."

"His name is Fang and he's a trained watchdog."

Chandler laughed in response to C.J.'s claim.

"And if you believe that, I've got some swamp land for sale. Have a
seat. You have a lot of 'splain-ing to do." C.J. said as he perched on
the edge of his desk. "And why didn't you let someone know when you were
injured? That really pisses me off!"

Chandler studied the tips of his boots. "Initially I didn't want Mom to
worry, and then I thought I'd be up and ready to go in a matter of days.
Guess I was wrong, huh?"

C.J. poked his brother's shoulder. "You dumb jerk. There's e-mail, the
fax, and gee-" he picked up the phone receiver "-even in the sticks we
have this thing called a telephone. Plus I know how to keep my mouth
shut." He rounded the corner of his desk and sat down. "So, what
happened and what's the prognosis?"

118

Chandler explained that he'd followed a marine unit into a firefight and
been blown against a wall when a car bomb detonated. Fortunately no one
had been killed-unfortunately his back was all messed up. "Damn it! I
would've been better off getting shot. At least they could've taken out
the bullet and I'd have healed. With this they're not sure what's wrong
or exactly what to do about it. I had surgery in New York, but it still
hurts to sit, or stand, or walk or just about anything that requires
motion." He shook his head. "I thought I'd come here and rest up for a
while."

"When Mom finds out you'll need an undertaker, not a doctor." Without a
doubt, Corrine Baker was going to be livid that he hadn't told her.

"The pain's better since my surgery, but my mobility sucks. The docs in
New York told me I need extensive physical therapy."

"This gets better and better. Mom really is going to kill you, you know
that?" C.J. sighed. "You had surgery in this country and didn't bother
to call?"

"I know. That was stupid, wasn't it?"

"Yep," C.J. agreed, and wondered how to tell his brother about Selena.
For some unknown reason, Chandler and Selena were like oil and water.
And now they were going to be housemates. Oh boy, this would be mighty
interesting.

"Selena is temporarily staying at Mom's." C.J. tried for a casual tone.

"Selena!" Chandler exploded. "What is she doing here?"

"Long story, but I'm afraid Enrique Bolivar has discovered she's in Texas."

"Some drug lord is looking for her and you sent her to live with our
mother!" Chandler thumped his cane on the floor.

"In case you've forgotten, big brother, our mother can hold her own on
the target range. She's aware of the danger, and I keep a close eye on
them." He raised an eyebrow. "As a matter of fact, I'm glad you're back.
We'll be better prepared, if Enrique tries to pull anything."

"Thanks. I'll just He in bed and use your old rifle to pick off the bad
guys as they break down the door. I'll be a sniper in rehab." Chandler
chuckled. He stood and reached over the desk to shake hands with his
sibling. "You've always been able to make me laugh."

If C.J. hadn't been afraid of hurting his brother, he would've initiated
the poking and jabbing routine characteristic of their youth. Instead he
came around the desk and slapped Chandler on the back. "Don't worry,
you're tough. You'll get through this."

"Lord in heaven, what are you doing here?" Corrine Baker rushed down the
steps of the family home and met C.J. and Chandler on the sidewalk.
Chandler was at least eight inches taller than his mother, but Corrine
still managed to give him a big hug. "What is this?" She tapped on his
cane, but before he could answer, Corrine turned on C.J. "And why didn't
you tell me your brother was coming home?"

120

C.J. shrugged. This was Chandler's problem. He had enough troubles of
his own.

His contemplation was interrupted by a feminine voice. "Well, well. If
it isn't the prodigal son." In a normal situation Selena was one of the
nicest people around, but when she went up against Chandler she morphed
into an A-1 shrew.

"And if it isn't Little Miss Jail Bait." Apparently absence hadn't made
the heart grow fonder.

"I see that war hasn't improved your personality." Selena flounced into
the house, slamming the front door with a resounding bang.

She peeked around the curtain to view the family reunion on the front
lawn. The Bakers (or at least C.J. and Corrine) had embraced her as if
she was a long-lost relative. But there was something about Chandler
that put every one of her warning signals on high alert. And as a
carryover from her unorthodox childhood, Selena never ignored the
prickle factor. God forbid it could be some kind of sexual attraction.
The man would rather have his nails ripped out than hand her a
compliment, or a smile, or even a kind word. Nope-this was hostility,
pure and simple.

Selena was the resident expert on animosity. Her family made the Manson
gang look like saints. Papa and brother dear were drug lords. Or at
least they had been until Enrique sent Papa on a premature trip to some
very, very hot place in the great beyond. And her mother-well, needless
to say she'd disappeared from the picture well before Selena was out of
diapers.

Childhood had been hellacious, and then when Selena hit puberty, the
situation went from bad to worse-until C.J. provided her with a new
life, and for that extraordinary act of kindness she'd be eternally
grateful. So she'd grit her teeth, mind her manners and be cordial to
Chandler even if he was a surly cretin.

And, she thought a bit perversely, a smile and a kind word would be the
perfect way to drive him crazy.

123

After C.J. left Chandler to deal with Corrine and Selena, he wanted to
do something about the situation with Olivia. In a fit of inspiration,
he decided to proceed with the great romance caper.

Courting was like any type of major operation-the key was to formulate a
strategy, organize it well and then march right in. In this little war
of the heart nothing was off limits, not even Olivia's favorite
bicha-doodle.

And that was how he found himself in the deserted parking lot of the vet
clinic mulling over his next step. Go in-don't go in. Yes, no. Since
when had he turned into a lily-livered coward?

"Ready, Fang?"

Fang hopped up on the console and panted in anticipation.

C.J. tried to untie Fang's bows. Police dogs shouldn't be sporting
ribbons-it just wasn't manly. "Jeez, these things have to go." After
another tug, C.J. realized he needed a pair of scissors, so he went on
to a more important task.

"Do you think it's time to make our move?" he asked his canine friend,
who responded with an enthusiastic yip.

"This is unbelievable. I'm reduced to asking a dog for advice." C.J.
grabbed both his Stetson and the puppy.

The receptionist was gone, but Olivia's ' Vette was still in the parking
lot, so C.J. assumed she was in the back of the clinic.

"Olivia, are you here?" he called out as he rounded the reception desk
and went through the doors marked Authorized Personnel Only. He'd bet he
could get authorized if he put his mind to it.

Frenzied barking erupted from the occupants of cages lining the room,
but Fang was oblivious to the noise.

"Olivia," C.J. called again, not at all sure anyone could hear over the
racket. On second thought, this might not be such a good idea. He was
about to make a retreat when Olivia appeared in an adjacent doorway.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Uh-oh, not a good start. "Fluffy, um, Fang isn't feeling too well. So I
thought I'd see if you'd give him a little checkup."

She tapped a lacquered fingernail on her teeth. "I suppose you didn't
know we make appointments for that sort of thing, did you?"

C.J. managed to look sheepish.

The man should consider a career in acting. "And from just a cursory
glance, I'd say your puppy seems fine."

124

Almost in confirmation, Fang climbed C.J: s chest to give him a sloppy kiss.

"Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving. Here." He thrust the dog into
Olivia's arms.

"This is so lame. Aren't you even a tiny bit ashamed to use a poor
innocent dog in your-" she waved her hands in the air "-scheme, or
whatever."

"Nope." He grinned and his darned dimple looked too cute. "Can't say I am."

"All right, all right," Olivia conceded with very little grace. "You are
the most tenacious man around, you know that?"

"Yes, ma'am. That's part of my charm."

Olivia resisted a snort as she carried Fang back to the examining room.
After she'd checked the pup from stem to stern, she glared at C.J. "I
told you he was fine. So why are you really here?"

He managed to look sheepish again.

"I really did want to have him examined, but I also wanted to see if
you'd go to dinner with us."

"C.J., I, uh, I really don't think that's a good plan." She looked down
at the floor, a move that turned out to be a tactical error because
before she knew it, he was close enough for her to see the flecks of
blue in his green eyes. "Last night was a huge-"

He took her in his arms. "Don't even consider saying it was a mistake,"
he admonished. "Making love with you was fantastic. At least, for me it
was." Discussing feelings was well out of his comfort zone, but this
time it seemed right. "Please, Olivia, let's have dinner and talk."
Frankly he'd rather have a

root canal than have a heart-to-heart discussion, particularly about
relationships. But he was a desperate man-and desperate men were experts
at groveling.

"And where could we take a dog to dinner?" she asked.

"I have an idea."

She just bet he did. And Lord only knew what kind of screwball plan he
had up his sleeve. But Olivia could feel her resolve weakening, and a
smart girl always knew when to concede. "Okay, but I have to clean up
first." She sniffed her hands. "I smell like a dog. Why don't you and
Fluffy go out front?"

"His name is Fang." C.J. pulled the dog's lips back, baring his teeth.
"See, doesn't he look vicious?"

"Nope," Olivia responded with a laugh. "There are some balls and stuff
in a basket under the bench. They should keep Fang busy. I'm not sure
what'll entertain you. So scram. I'll be out in about fifteen minutes."

Olivia was trying to accomplish in a sink what should be done in a
shower. More than likely it was a futile effort, but after a full day of
wrestling dogs and cats she had some major repairs to accomplish. Off
came the T-shirt and jeans.

"Whew." She flapped her clothes in an unsuccessful attempt to get rid of
the animal fur and quickly decided it was a lost cause.

The locker in her office provided a limited wardrobe selection. It was
either a pair of jeans or a black

126

sequined cocktail dress. And she didn't think this was a "little black
dress" event.

So she was stuck with jeans, a T-shirt with Texas Rose emblazoned on it
in sequins, and a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals. Breaking bread
with Mr. Sexy was a bad idea, so she told herself, so it really didn't
matter what she was wearing.

"Where are we going?" she asked for the fifth time and still didn't get
an answer. Fang had made himself at home in her lap and was snoring like
a stevedore. "And how can this dog make that much noise?" she asked.

C.J. glanced her way and chuckled. "Beats me. You're the vet. And I am
planning to feed you. It just may not be what you're expecting."

Considering that there weren't any restaurants this far out of town,
Olivia had almost decided they'd be dining at the Food World deli section.

But no-a supermarket wasn't his intended destination. It was a church.
Good grief! They pulled into the crowded parking lot of the new
Methodist church.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "The church?"

"Yep. They're having a spaghetti feed and I promised Mom I'd show up."
He hopped out of the Explorer and went around to the passenger door.

He took Fang from her lap and deposited him on the ground. "Rumor has it
Mrs. Throckmorton's made her world-famous homemade strawberry ice cream."

What a bribe! Mrs. T was the best ice-cream

maker in south Texas. Baptist tacos were better than Methodist
spaghetti, but even the Catholic fish fry couldn't beat Mrs.
Throckmorton's icy delight.

Olivia jumped out of the SUV. "What are you waiting for?" She strolled
into the church basement with Fang right behind her. The dog had major
self-confidence!

C.J. chuckled but his amusement didn't last long. The first person he
saw was Selena in all her red-haired splendor. Although Olivia claimed
she wasn't mad at his ex-wife, he had his misgivings about an actual
face-to-face meeting. Women could be so unpredictable.

"Let's head over to the dessert table." He laid a hand on Olivia's back
and steered her away from the female members of his family, who were
dishing up plates of spaghetti. He was beginning to think his idea might
win an award for stupidity. If his brain had been engaged, he would've
realized Selena would be here.

"Let's go straight to the ice cream. That way we can get some before
it's all gone," he suggested.

Although Olivia seemed skeptical, she didn't object. Homemade ice cream
was about as close to heaven as a girl could get.

Before they made it fifteen feet, several of CJ.'s constituents waylaid
them, all wanting to chat, and as an elected official, he felt an
obligation to meet and greet.

"Young man!"

C.J. held his breath. That voice could only belong to Mrs. Pomerantz.

"What have you found out about those dead bodies at the nature
preserve?" Mrs. P. obviously

128

had her hearing aid turned off and every word equaled the decibel level
of a Stones concert.

He resisted the urge to stick his fingers in his ears and instead
trotted out his best charm. "Yes, ma'am, it looks like they were
accidental deaths." He winked at the octogenarian. He avoided adding
that the police didn't have a clue about their identities-and God only
knows, C.J. had tried and tried and tried to find out.

John and Jane Doe weren't on any missing persons' lists. C.J. had almost
burned up the office fax machine following that dead-end trail". Plus,
he wasn't any closer to finding out who'd dumped them at the nature
preserve or why. The whole incident gave him a bad feeling.

"And isn't that Ida Whitaker's little dog, Fluffy?" Mrs. Pomerantz boomed.

The pooch in question had taken up residence on C.J.'s boot.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm keeping him until Mrs. Whitaker gets out of the hospital."

"Well, sonny, you might have a long wait. I hear Ida's thinking about
going to the retirement home, and they don't allow animals. Didn't she
call you?"

Ye gods! C.J. looked down at the canine menace who was chewing on his
favorite lizard-skin Tony Lama boots. "Stop that." He shook his foot
slightly, but failed to dislodge the pooch. He hadn't checked his home
answering machine today.

"Are you sure?" he asked, even though he really didn't want to hear the
answer.

"Absolutely," Mrs. Pomerantz pronounced.

"Gladys talked to her this morning. Ida's right happy you're taking such
good care of her baby." She pinched his cheek before she strolled off.

Olivia was obviously trying to stifle a full-blown belly laugh.

"Don't you dare say anything."

She controlled the giggles, but couldn't squelch her grin.

"You'd better move your foot," she commented.

C.J. gasped. Fang had lifted his leg!

"Good Lord!" He picked up the dog. "Stop that. Do not, I repeat, do not
chew on my boots, my car upholstery or my couch. And absolutely do not
piss on my leg. You hear me?"

Olivia couldn't suppress another bout of giggles.

"And you..." He went nose-to-nose with Port Serenity's favorite vet. "I
need help."

Instead of providing sage advice, Olivia cupped her hands around the
dog's face and made kissy noises. "Is Daddy yelling at Snooky Wookums?"

"Come on." He took Livy's arm and steered her toward the exit. "Let's go
to the Sonic."

"If you're treating, I want a double chili cheeseburger, ranch fries and
a chocolate shake."

"You're on." C.J. laughed in spite of himself. "Damn, I like a woman
with an appetite. You-" he ruffled Fang's ears "-are not having a
jalapeno cheeseburger." He fingered one of the bows. "Next time I'm near
a pair of scissors, remind me to cut these damn things off. A sheriff
can't ride around with a dog wearing bows."

131

The situation wasn't working out the way C.J. had hoped. The good news
was that Olivia was in his car. The bad news was that she was playing
with the darned dog. C.J. might be down for the count but he certainly
wasn't out of the game. For his next romantic skirmish, he thought he
might try a candlelight dinner and roses. That would certainly be a
world away from dinner al fresco at the Sonic.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked, as he put the remnants of his meal on
the tray attached to his car window.

"Sure." Olivia handed him her trash while Fang made a circle in her lap
and burped.

"You didn't feed him anything, did you?" C.J. wasn't sure he could take
a repeat of Fang's previous encounter with a fast-food burger.

"Are you kidding me? I'm a professional. I wouldn't do anything that
stupid."

Meaning he would-that was insulting, but if the crime fit and so forth.

CJ. was strategizing his next move when they drove past the darkened
Bayou Church of the Saved Sinners. If it hadn't been for a sudden
movement, he wouldn't have noticed the motorcycles by the stand of live
oak. CJ. slowed the Explorer to check out the parking lot.

"What do you think is happenin' over there?" He pulled onto the shoulder
of the road and studied the darkened expanse of asphalt. He could just
make out the shape of a couple of bikes. What was the connection between
the Bayou church and all those motorcycles?

He reached for the radio and gave instructions to the answering voice.
"Send a deputy over to the Bayou church. Looks like we have something
going on. I'm sitting on the side of the road with a civilian in the
car. I'll stay where I am for the time being."

"Yes, sir," Tonya Newton, the night dispatcher, drawled. Tonya was rumor
central for the sheriff's department, and without a doubt she'd be dying
to know who was in his car. Too bad she wasn't going to find out.

Olivia had been alternating between studying C.J. in cop mode and
keeping track of the parking lot. "I think two guys came out of the
church." Her observation was punctuated by the almost deafening roar of
two Harley engines.

"Yep, I'm sure they came out that door," she said with more than a bit
of understatement.

"Damn," CJ. muttered. "Make sure your seat belt's tight and hang on to
Fang. We may be in for a wild ride."

132

Two dark shapes sped off, leaving a cloud of gravel and crushed
seashells in their wake.

"Tonya, they're running. I'm right on their tail. We're going south on
1518."

His voice had an edge of excitement Olivia'd never heard before. It was
probably the intangible element that made him such a good
law-enforcement officer.

"Turning east on Bay Road," he snapped into the radio.

The hiss and crackle of the radio were periodically interrupted by the
voices of deputies racing to join the pursuit.

"Have someone check out the church," C.J. instructed Tonya, then turned
to Olivia. "This doesn't feel like simple vandalism to me."

The siren was wailing as the Explorer screeched down the narrow country
lane, yet C.J. could still carry on a logical conversation. Olivia liked
speed, but this was ridiculous. Her fingernails were embedded in the
vinyl armrest.

The radio crackled again. "Henry and Joe Don will intercept you on Farm
to Market 1060." That was almost two miles up the road, and no matter
how C.J. floorboarded the Explorer, the bikers were maintaining a
substantial lead.

"Have Bubba get out the stop strips," he directed Tonya.

"Yes, sir. He's ready to go."

With every transmission, Tonya's voice rose an octave. Pretty soon she'd
be doing a Betty Boop imitation.

"Look at that!" Olivia exclaimed.

C.J. glanced at his passenger. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates
and she was pointing at the Southern Pacific locomotive racing along the
adjacent train track.

"Damn!" The road would take a hard right turn across that very same
track, and if the motorcycles made it they'd be long gone. If they didn't...

C.J. hit the gas, even though it was probably an exercise in futility.
The train engineer obviously realized he had a big problem, but it was
too late to stop so he laid on the horn.

Olivia closed her eyes and dug her fingernails deeper into the vinyl. If
she had to meet her maker on a railroad track, she'd rather not see it
coming.

The motorcycles raced across the track microseconds before the train.
C.J. hit the brakes and skidded sideways, stopping so close to the track
Olivia could have reached out and touched the moving train-if she'd been
able to open her eyes or stop shaking or quit babbling.

"Crap! Crap! Crap!" C.J. beat on the steering wheel. "Tonya, tell me
someone's on the other side of this railroad track."

There was a long hesitation before the radio responded. "No, sir. Joe
Don is heading your way but he's about a half mile off."

Great! There were miles of deserted country roads and if the perps were
smart enough to turn off and cut their lights, they'd never be found.

"Tonya, who responded at the church?"

134

The answer came back quickly. "It was Frank, and he wants to talk to
you. Hang on and I'll patch him through."

C.J. tapped the steering wheel as he waited for the patch.

"Hey, boss, we've got a problem." The deputy paused as a siren sounded
in the background. "The preacher's been pretty much beat to a pulp, but
he ain't sayin' nuthin'. Apparently he's got himself a bad case of
amnesia." The deputy snorted. "The EMT folks have just shown up. So I'll
find out what they have to say."

"Okay. Tape off the area," C.J. instructed. "I'll be there in ten
minutes." He turned the Explorer around and went back to town.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, then C.J. glanced at Olivia.
"What the hell do you think is going on, Livy?"

Olivia gave a shrug. That was the sixty-billion-dollar question. All she
knew for sure was that the place had been hoppin' ever since the
Hardaways hit town.

135

Things went from bad to worse after the Bayou Church break-in. Brother
Hardaway was doing a great Sergeant Schultz impression-he'd seen
nothing, heard nothing and knew nothing. C.J. was surprised the dude
could even put on his own socks.

And today he'd responded to a car wreck that resulted in a fistfight.
Did he mention that the incident involved Mrs. Pomerantz and Gladys
Schmidt? Jeez Louise. That was all he needed.

Paperwork was an irritation and a necessary evil, and it seemed to go on
and on. C.J. was glaring at the pile of folders that had been gracing
his desk for at least a week when he was distracted by the phone.

"Sheriff, the county exec is on line one."

"Put him on." C.J. stifled his impatience. "Baker here."

"Hey, Sheriff, how are things down at my cop shop?"

Not a good opening line. Jerome Bennett wasn't

136

known for idle chitchat, so that didn't bode well for the remainder of
the conversation.

"Fine, just fine," C.J. answered, leaning back in his chair. If
something was about to hit the fan, he'd rather be in a relaxed frame of
mind.

"Good, good to know. I hear we had a problem out at the Bayou church
last night."

"Yes, sir, we did."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "You know we can't have
people beating up our pastors. That's not seemly."

No kidding. "I've got two detectives on it. We have a description of the
motorcycles." C.J. rustled some papers next to the phone. "You know
what, sir? I have a call coming in on the radio that I have to take.
I'll get back to you this afternoon."

No sooner had he ended the call than the phone rang again.

Now what? "Baker here."

"Well, Baker, it sounds like you could use a drink." The deep masculine
voice verbalized the best idea C.J. had come across all day.

"Yeah, Delacroix, I could use a drink. How about six o'clock at the
Watering Hole?"

"Done." Christian paused for a second and then said, "I have some info
you're probably not going to like."

When Christian hedged like that, C.J. knew he'd flat-out hate what the
man had to say.

The Watering Hole was already bustling with the after-work crowd when
C.J. arrived. Fortunately

Christian had found a booth and ordered a couple of beers and a plate of
nachos.

C.J. slid into the seat across from his former partner. "What's
happenin' at headquarters?" he asked. C.J. was still surprised he didn't
miss his previous life in undercover narcotics.

Christian took a long draw on his beer. "Sounds like Enrique Bolivar has
been tracking Selena. I think she's safe for now, but I don't know how
long that'll last."

"Damn!" C,J. slammed a fist on the table, making his mug dance in place.
"How did that happen? We were so careful."

"I don't think they've connected you to her, so I'm not sure how they
found her. Did she do anything that would warrant publicity while she
was living in Dallas?"

"I wouldn't think so. I specifically warned her about that." C.J. sighed
as he sipped his beer. "What do you figure we can do?"

"Sit and wait. I'll keep my ear to the ground."

And that was all C.J. could ask. So far, his own sources had been
ominously silent. He had to warn Selena, but first he wanted to see his
favorite vet.

Olivia was swaying and gyrating to a pounding Middle Eastern beat. Belly
dancing was fantastic for the glutes and abs, and what better way to
feel like the Queen of Sheba. To get in the proper mood she even had her
own harem outfit-midriff top, diaphanous pants, veil and finger cymbals.

138

Olivia was in the middle of a particularly intricate dance when the
doorbell rang. "Darn!" She thought about ignoring it; however, her
curiosity finally got the best of her. And when she discovered the
identity of her visitor, she wished she'd followed her first instinct.

"Florene. What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" the preacher's wife asked, already halfway through the
door.

Olivia stepped aside. It was either move or be mowed down. "Sure. Come
on in."

From the minute she stepped over the sill, it was obvious Florene didn't
follow the usual etiquette for houseguests. She looked more like a
termite inspector than a visitor as she went from corner to corner
checking everything in the living room.

What unmitigated gall! Olivia was about to complain when the brazen
hussy headed into the kitchen to continue her inspection.

"Are you looking for something specific?" Olivia asked, when she could
finally make her mouth move.

"Why no, hon. What makes you ask that?" Florene answered as she picked
up the lid to the cookie jar.

Olivia raised an eyebrow and pointed at the lid.

"Oh, that." Florene twittered. "I guess I'm just a bit overwrought. You
heard about my husband, didn't you?"

"Yes." Olivia paused for dramatic effect. "I was with the sheriff last
night when he chased the guys who did it."

All the blood seemed to leave Florene's face. "Really?"

Now, that was an interesting reaction.

"Well, I'd better get going. Lots of things to do, you know." Florene
scurried out of the kitchen, but prior to her exit she made time to
check out the downstairs powder room.

What a nutcase. Olivia threw the dead bolt on the front door as soon as
her visitor left. Then the doorbell pealed again.

Darn it! She flung open the door, ready to give Florene a piece of her
mind. But whoa-it wasn't the blond bimbo.

"Hi, C.J." This was so not happening. If his lascivious grin was any
indication, the guy was a huge belly-dancing fan. She clanged the finger
cymbals together. "I'll get dressed."

"Oh, I think not, darlin'." He urged her into his arms. "This is a
fantasy I've had since the eighth grade and I intend to savor it." And
savor it he did, starting with little nibbles and kisses on her neck,
down her collarbone, and across the cleavage. "Yes, ma'am, this is
definitely one of my better PG-13-rated fantasies," he mumbled as he
came up for air.

"But much as I'd like to continue, I came by for a reason," he said
after he'd planted a long, hot kiss on her mouth. Her lack of protest
appeared to be a good omen.

"I'll give you fifty cents if you'll go with me to Mom's house for dinner."

"What?"

140

"I'll make it a buck fifty, and throw in the fact that Mom's a great
cook. Can you be ready in about thirty minutes?"

She was such a sucker for anything that man suggested. Being at his beck
and call was obviously a bad plan, but for some reason she kept saying
yes to his invitations. "And why do you want me to go with you? Is there
something you're avoiding?"

C. J. shrugged and gave her one of his devastating little-boy looks.
"Yeah, there is." He briefed her on the newest Enrique Bolivar
information. "I'd love your company. Plus, you'll be a good distraction
when I tell Selena her brother might be after her."

Olivia tossed her veil on the back of the couch. "Now I'm nothing but a
distraction." She resisted the urge to pout.

C.J. cupped her chin and kissed her again. "Darlin' you've been a
distraction to me for quite a while." He grinned just before he planted
another kiss on her lips.

Corrine welcomed THEM with open arms. But Selena was too busy arguing
with Chandler to be very hospitable. He was sitting on one end of the
sofa while she occupied the other. All they seemed to have in common was
the venomous glares they exchanged. And yet the sparks flying off those
two could light up half the Gulf Coast.

"How you doin' ?" C.J. elbowed his brother in the side. "And how's the
prettiest redhead in all of south Texas?" He walked to the end of the
couch and

kissed Selena's cheek. Fang followed suit and bathed her face in kisses.

"The mutt likes women, huh?" Chandler commented.

"He has good taste, just like all the Baker men." C.J. fell onto the
couch between the two combatants. Fang hopped on his lap and settled
down for a nap.

"Are you keeping him?" Chandler asked.

"Yep. How could I say no to Mrs. Whittaker? She taught me everything I
know about fractions. Not that I ever use fractions."

Corrine put her arm around Olivia's shoulders. Like her sons, she was
tall, and they were almost eye-to-eye. "I'm so glad you could come." She
patted Olivia's hand. "That kid of mine never shows up for dinner. I
don't know what I'm going to do with him. Come on, everyone. Supper's
ready." Corrine had obviously ditched her biker-mama persona and was in
full June Cleaver mode.

The aroma of roasted ham was enough to make Olivia's mouth water.
"Smells wonderful, Mrs. Baker."

Corrine patted her hand again. "Call me Corrine."

Considering all the undercurrents, the meal went fairly well. Selena and
Chandler were seated at opposite ends of the table, but they still
managed to shoot daggers at each other. C.J., Olivia and Corrine tried
valiantly to create some semblance of normalcy with their conversation,
touching on a variety of topics, with more than a passing nod to
small-town gossip.

"Did you hear that the Hardaways left town?" Corrine asked C.J.

142

He'd heard that interesting bit of news but hadn't processed exactly
what it meant.

"Rumor has it that Mrs. Pomerantz was involved in a car wreck," Corrine
continued. "Swear to goodness if anything happens in this town, she's
right in the middle of the action."

Truer words were never spoken.

"I also heard she smacked one of the guys upside the head with her purse."

Now, why didn't that surprise him? He'd have to ask his deputy why that
was omitted from the report.

"The grapevine's also reporting the guy she hit was driving a stolen car."

That much was true-the Port Serenity grapevine was better than the CIA.

The next words out of his mother's mouth made C.J. sit up and take notice.

"Apparently it was one of those rusty old Mercedes with Sonora plates."

"What?" Why hadn't someone told him that? Sonora was a state in Mexico.
Mexico/Selena/Enrique-could there be a link?

Corrine paused to pass the green beans. "Yeah, Mexican plates. Since the
guys involved in the wreck disappeared, Mrs. P's afraid her insurance
will have to pay. More than likely it would have anyway, since she's the
one who caused the accident. Potatoes?"

His mother didn't understand the bomb she'd dropped. C.J. resisted the
urge to beat his head on the table. Enrique's goons must be in town. He
couldn't

put it off any longer-he had to warn Selena. Might as well get it over with.

"Selena honey, Christian and I just talked and the scuttlebutt he's
picking up is that Enrique is trying to find you."

Every one of the freckles across her nose stood out in stark contrast to
the whiteness of her skin. "Enrique? Enrique's here?" she squeaked.

C.J. went to the end of the table and put his arms around his former
wife. "We don't know that for sure." He sat down in the empty chair.
"Did anything happen while you were in school that got your picture in
the paper? Were you involved in any kind of publicity?"

Selena chewed on her lip while she thought. "Not really."

That hesitant "not really" sent up a red flag, but C.J. remained
outwardly calm. "What do you mean, not really?"

"You remember I did some modeling for Neiman's?"

Damn it. "Yes."

"Well, there was this write-up in the society section of the paper for
one of our shows. But honestly, you couldn't tell anything from the
picture."

Obviously someone could, and that was how Enrique had found her.

"Did you tell anyone you were moving down here?"

She nibbled her lip again. "Only a couple of my friends. And I had my
mail forwarded to Corrine's post-office box."

144

He sighed. Now the question was-did they know specifically where Selena
was living or were they simply trolling?

The scheme he was considering might land him in a Mexican federal
prison, but if he intended to solve this problem he'd have to be
proactive rather than reactive.

145

Olivia'd had an early morning of surgery, and then she'd seen a
never-ending stream of patients. It was definitely one of those days.
Coffee-she needed coffee.

All things considered, dinner the night before had been fairly
civilized. Until Corrine innocently mentioned the Mexican car, and C.J.
discovered Selena's picture had been in the Dallas paper. Then
everything had gone south. If some Uzi-carrying drug lord had been
dogging Olivia's footsteps she wouldn't have considered posing for a
newspaper picture.

One fortunate result of the dinner was that she could put any misgivings
she had about C.J. and Selena to rest. Sparks between those two were
nonexistent-Selena and Chandler were a completely different matter. Talk
about sexual tension.

Girl talk was overdue, so Olivia picked up the phone. "Hey, Lolly, can
you do lunch today?"

There was a long pause, and then a shrill screech. "You don't mind if I
bring the girls, do you?" she asked.

"Nope."

146

"Okay. Give me an hour. Oh, darn! Gotta go." Lolly didn't give Olivia
time to answer before she hung up.

Olivia stared at the receiver, grinned and hung up. Life in the mommy
lane must be a challenge.

Olivia heard the racket before she opened the door of the police
station. The source of that noise had to be either Renee or Dana-or
possibly both of the girls.

"Hey, Tiny, I can tell you've been recruited for babysitting duty."
Olivia spoke to the harried desk sergeant. Tiny Johnson was Tonya
Newton's little sister.

"Yes, ma'am." The young policewoman expertly bounced the infant into a
quiet coo. "Chief had an emergency so I took-" she paused as she picked
up the baby's hand to check for the nail polish "-Dana. Jimmy Bob in
Homicide has Renee. Chief said to tell you she'd be finished in about
fifteen minutes."

"That's okay. I'll go back and get a cup of coffee." Olivia reached out
for the baby. "I'll take her so you can get back to work."

"Thanks." Tiny blew a raspberry kiss on the baby's neck before she
handed her to Olivia. "Swear to goodness, those girls are cuter than a
couple of speckled pups."

"They sure are," Olivia agreed as she bounced her goddaughter. She
wandered through the cubicles to Homicide, lured by the sound of a deep
baritone making goofy baby noises. Olivia, Lolly and Jimmy Bob had gone
to high school together. Now J.B. had

a whole raft of kids at home and baby talk probably qualified as a
second language.

"Hey. Jimmy Bob." Olivia had played doctor with this guy when they were
in kindergarten, so he'd always be Jimmy Bob to her. "I see you have the
matching bookend."

He looked up and smiled. "You've got that one right, Dr. Livy. You and
the chief going to lunch?"

"Uh-huh," Olivia answered, just as a pungent odor started to drift from
her tiny bundle. "Are there diapers around here?"

J.B. tossed her a Huggies. "Be my guest."

"Thanks, you're a real prince."

Her snide comment elicited an even bigger chuckle.

Olivia had just secured the final piece of diaper tape when Lolly
wandered into J.B.'s cubicle and collapsed into the only remaining chair.

"Lordy, Livy, I'm too old for this." Lolly slouched even lower in the
chair. "We didn't get any sleep last night. When one of them went to
sleep, the other one woke up." She moaned. "And now I have some bimbos
selling cocaine out of their beauty shop."

"Their beauty shop?"

Lolly forced a grin. "Yeah, the Cutie Curl out on the highway. Only in
south Texas can a girl get a perm and snort a line at the same time."

Lolly took the baby from J.B. "Thanks a million." She turned to Olivia.
"Let's get out of here while the gettin's good. The stroller is by the
back door. If we're really quiet we can sneak out before anyone else
stops me."

148

Although they'd missed the lunch-hour rush, Daisy's Diner was still
crowded. Miraculously, the twins were both asleep in their stroller.
Lolly sighed and ordered a glass of iced tea.

"This is so hard." She was referring to being a full-time mom and a
part-time police chief. "I don't know how I'll manage when I have to go
back to work full days."

"When do you plan to do that?"

"In a couple of months. Mee Maw will babysit until I can find a nanny.
One week she and Aunt Sissy are talking about opening a boutique, and
the next week they're planning a road trip. From the snippets of
conversation I've been hearing, my 'uh-oh' meter is twitching like a
frog in a pot of boiling water." Lolly grinned as she picked up the
menu. "So I really do have to get a good sitter. Please, let me find one
who doesn't have a rap sheet and likes to bake chocolate chip cookies."

The waitress arrived to take their order. "I'll have the chicken salad
and another iced tea," Olivia said.

Lolly nibbled on her lower lip. "I've lost almost all my baby weight and
I'm dying for something fattening." She looked up at the waitress.
"Cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate milkshake." She waited until the
waitress left.

"Okay, give."

Nothing got by that sharp-eyed cop. "Hmm." Olivia stalled. "Well... It's
C.J."

"Well, duh," Lolly murmured.

"Yeah, well, hmm, I have a bit of a problem." She

filled Lolly in on her errant love life and the man who was playing a
starring role. "I finally came to the realization that he and Selena are
just friends."

Lolly's look was as eloquent as the unspoken "no kidding."

"Yeah, okay. I'm a doofus."

Lolly raised an eyebrow.

"So the question is-what do I do now? I still have this little issue
with trust." Olivia wanted to wail but she managed to control herself.
She had to be careful because the rumor mill had spies everywhere. And
unlike Las Vegas, what was said at Daisy's didn't always stay at Daisy's.

"A little issue?"

"Okay, smarty, I have a huge issue with trust." There was a lull in the
conversation when the waitress brought their food. Olivia compared her
plate of salad to Lolly's juicy burger and wished she'd splurged.
Sometimes a girl needed an artery-clogging treat. She snatched a fry off
her friend's plate.

"I suppose I should admit it. I'm in love with the guy!" Olivia said and
wished the iced tea would magically turn into a Cuervo Golden Margarita.

"Yeah."

"But what do I do? I've really messed things up."

"Is he still asking you out?"

"Yeah." It was Olivia's turn for monosyllabic answers.

"Is he still being attentive?"

"Yeah."

150

"Have you seen him out with anyone else?"

"No."

"I rest my case. You need to stop worrying and let things run their
natural course."

Her friend was right, but patience was not Olivia's strong suit.

151

Several days had passed since Olivia's C.J. epiphany. Darn it-now that
she'd uttered the L word the guy had disappeared off the radar screen.
Poof, vanished, disappeared. So when Mama offered chicken and dumplings
for dinner, Olivia immediately accepted the invitation.

Rose locked the door of her gallery and jumped into Olivia's 'Vette.
"Would you take me out to the Super Saver before we go home? I need to
pick up some motor oil for your daddy. I was supposed to do it days ago,
but I keep forgetting."

The Super Saver parking lot was in typical jam-and-cram mode, but after
driving around they found a place near the Dumpster. A Dumpster next to
her beloved car-yikes! Olivia resisted the urge to pat the fender as she
reluctantly followed Rose into the store.

Mama marched off to the auto section. She was obviously a woman on a
mission. Olivia wandered through the shampoo aisle, perused greeting cards

152

and was engrossed in a selection of new books when a hard object was
poked against the center of her back. Olivia's first reaction was to
yell at the idiot, and her second was to faint dead away. Because as
sure as God made little green apples, it was a gun.

"What do you want?" she squeaked. Good Lord-people didn't get kidnapped
at the Super Saver.

"Just shut up and walk to the front door." The gravelly voice had a
faint accent she couldn't quite place.

"What do you want?" she whispered a second time but kept moving. All she
could see of her assailant was the tail of his bright red shirt.

"Shut up!" He poked her again. "You got something we want, and you're
gonna give it to us or you'll be sorry." He emphasized his demand with
another thrust of the gun.

Well, he darned sure didn't mean money. Every spare cent Olivia had went
to student loans and house payments. "If it's money you want-"

Olivia didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before the jerk
slapped a hand over her mouth and hauled her into a rack of cut-price jeans.

"I ain't kidding. Where is it?" The idiot was built like a steamroller,
smelled like a cesspool and had a skull and crossbones tattooed on his
hand. This dude was not a member of the Chamber of Commerce.

"What are you doing to my daughter?" Rose shrieked, providing Olivia
with the distraction she needed to grab his "package" and squeeze with all

her might. The guy dropped to his knees, keening like a banshee.

"Run!" Olivia grabbed Rose's hand and sprinted toward the front door.
She wasn't sure the security folks at the Super Saver were ready for
this bad guy. They'd almost made it through the electronic-eye door when
sanity prevailed. Olivia slid to a halt so fast her mother skidded into
her. "What am I thinking?" She slapped a palm to her head. "We need to
find out what he wanted."

Olivia raced back to the book section, but although the man had been
wailing in agony when last seen, he had since managed to disappear. "We
have to find him. You take that aisle. I'll take this one," Olivia
instructed as she ran from row to row in a futile search. She punched in
C.J.'s number on her cell phone, but before it connected she spotted her
prey shuffling out the front door.

"Mom, Mom," she shouted and heads turned all over the store. With luck,
security wouldn't get their act together and arrest the two of them.

Rose rounded the corner clutching her heart. "Lord in heaven, child. You
almost gave me a heart attack."

"He's leaving. Let's go!" That was all it took for Rose to join Olivia
in a sprint out of the store.

"Damn! I knew we shouldn't have parked by the Dumpster," Olivia
exclaimed. They were running to the ' Vette when a huge black-and-chrome
Harley sped off.

"There he is!" Olivia recognized the shirt. Realizing her chance to
catch the guy was less than nil, Olivia called in the cavalry-Sheriff C.
J. Baker.

154

With one hand on the wheel and the other on her cell phone, Olivia
peeled out of the lot and headed for the highway.

"There he is!" Rose yelled and Olivia responded by laying rubber. The
last thing Olivia heard before she threw the phone on the console was a
muffled, "Don't you dare chase him."

Sure thing.

Unfortunately, the Harley had a three-block start and by the time Olivia
and Rose reached the boulevard where they'd spotted him the guy had
disappeared. Vanished. Not surprising, since there were any number of
fast-food joints, tourist traps and strip malls he could've pulled
behind to hide.

"Damn!"

"Yeah, double damn! What did C.J. say?"

"He said not to chase him." Olivia arched an eyebrow. "Like I'd let the
idiot get away if I can help it." Their search was fruitless and now
they were in the Kentucky Fried Chicken parking lot checking out cars.

"Is he sending someone?"

"Yep. I think I hear a siren. C.J. isn't going to be happy with me. He
told me not to give chase and I ignored him."

"Uh-huh." Rose concurred. "That was probably stupid. The guy had a gun."

"Mother, please! He also has a debilitating injury." Olivia giggled at
the thought.

Rose's chuckle was interrupted by the piercing scream of a siren. "Here
come the cops. Let's give them a quick statement and get out of here."

That sounded like a great idea. She already knew C.J. wasn't going to be
sympathetic and he probably wasn't more than five minutes behind the
first responder.

The deputy drove up, cut the siren and ambled over. "Are you ladies okay?"

"Yes, we are," Olivia assured him. Then she gave him a description of
the man and the bike. "Do you think we could go home now? My mother
isn't feeling well."

Rose bolstered the fib by doing a great wilting violet routine.

"Well, I don't know, ma'am. I'm not sure the sheriff's gonna be too
happy with that." The young deputy rolled back on his heels, obviously
contemplating the situation.

Rose doubled over and moaned.

"Please, my mom has to have her medicine. If the sheriff needs us, he
has my phone number." Olivia pulled out all the stops on her southern
belle routine.

And what red-blooded American male could resist that? "Okay, you ladies
drive real careful going home." He leaned in and spoke to Rose. "Miz
Alvarado, you take good care of yourself now. You hear?"

Olivia maintained her stoic look until they were out of sight, then she
lost it. "Mama, swear to goodness you're the best."

"I know." Rose puffed up with pride. "Let's go home. A big plate of
dumplings will make us feel better."

Olivia could only agree.

157

Olivia was digging into her second plate of chicken when C. J. barged
into the Alvarados' kitchen without bothering to knock,

He sat right down and grabbed the fork from her hand. "I thought I told
you not to chase that man!" He stabbed the utensil into a steaming
dumpling. "You could've gotten killed!" CJ. punctuated his remarks by
shoving the morsel into his mouth and chewing furiously.

"Nice to see you, C.J.," Rose said with just a bit of irony. "Would you
like a plate of your own?"

It finally dawned on him what he'd done, and his good manners kicked in.
"Yes, ma'am. That'd be real nice." CJ. stood and offered his hand to
Olivia's dad. "Raul, how you doin'?" he asked.

"Not too bad. I'd be doing better if these two could stay out of
trouble." He indicated his wife and daughter. "Their shenanigans are
enough to make a guy go gray."

Wasn't that the truth. C J. sat down again and before he knew it he had
his own plate piled high with food.

"Can you cook like this?" he asked Olivia. She shot him a venomous
glare. Nothing like living dangerously to spur a man's appetite.

Eventually CJ. folded his napkin and leaned back in the chair. "What do
you think went down at the Super Saver?"

Rose and Olivia started talking at the same time, each of them providing
an opinion.

His gut told him he had big problems in his county, and it was the same
intuition that had already kept him alive more times than he wanted to
count. He was pretty sure the guys in the Mercedes had some connection
with Selena. But what was going on with Olivia? He suspected it involved
the Hardaways, but he'd run into a brick wall talking to those folks.
And now they'd disappeared.

CJ. retrieved a small notebook from his pocket. "Tell me exactly what he
said."

Olivia wrinkled her nose. "Let me see." She paused, trying to remember
the exact words. "He said I had something he wanted."

Okay, that was new. "What do you think he meant?"

"Beats me." She looked at Rose for advice. "Mama, can you think of
anything?"

"I've racked my brain since we got back from the Super Saver, but I
can't come up with a thing," Rose said.

"Seen or heard anything unusual lately?"

"Not that I remember." Olivia had a feeling there was something but she
couldn't come up with it.

"Mrs. Alvarado, how about you?"

158

"No, nothing."

Olivia nodded, then broke the grim atmosphere by laughing. "You
should've seen that guy when I got through with him. He'll be singing
soprano for at least a month."

Just the thought! CJ. resisted the urge to cringe. "Remind me to never
cross these women, would you please?" he implored Raul.

"That's always a good idea," Raul concurred, flinching when his wife hit
him on the arm.

"I think you should stay with your parents until we discover what's
happening." CJ. made the suggestion, even though he knew Olivia wouldn't
agree.

"Are you kidding? I'm going home."

Uh-oh-she had on her stubborn face. He noticed that Raul and Rose didn't
bother to comment; they had lived with her for years, after all.

"Okay." He rubbed his chin, contemplating his next move. "I'll follow
you home and check out the house."

"That's a wonderful idea," Rose said before Olivia could respond. She
went to the cabinet, pulled out two tinfoil pans and filled them with
leftovers. "Why don't you do that right now?" She shoved the pans into
C.J.'s hands.

"Mother!"

Mama was matchmaking again.

"Shoo." Rose made a flapping motion with her hands. "I'm about to get a
headache."

Raul made a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like an abbreviated
laugh and Fang barked in delight.

The search of Olivia's house revealed nothing more sinister than dust
bunnies. Fang made another circle of the kitchen island looking for
stray morsels.

"I can't believe my parents." Olivia joined him in the kitchen. She felt
compelled to gripe, even though she really was glad CJ. was there. "Is
it all clear?"

"Yep. Not a bad guy in sight." He slid the leftovers into the
refrigerator, then quietly walked to the island and cupped her chin.
"Seriously, I think you'd be better off at your parents' house. At least
it would make me feel better."

"Yeah, well, I know what would make me feel better." After a hard-fought
internal struggle Olivia had finally accepted that she loved this man,
and more importantly, trusted him. She was finally over the Brian
debacle-and that felt great. It was time to fess up that she'd made a
terrible mistake by leaving C.J.'s house in the middle of the night.

Olivia put her arms around his neck, pausing a moment to savor the
stubble on his cheeks, and then threaded her fingers through his silky
hair. This had been a particularly favorite daydream. "We have some
unfinished business, cowboy." She barely had time to verbalize the
thought when he brought his lips to hers and she went into a major
meltdown. He'd obviously been waiting for this, too. And it felt oh, so
much like coming home.

The country-western song about the man with the slow hands fit CJ. to a
tee. He touched and caressed every square inch of her skin as he
unveiled it. Olivia

160

was almost delirious by the time he got to the really good parts, and
from the gleam in his eye, she could tell he knew exactly what he was
doing. But that was okay; her turn was coming.

It wasn't fair. Somehow he'd managed to get her stripped down to a pair
of lacy bikinis and her sandals, but he still had on the faded jeans she
loved so much, and the chambray shirt that made her think of Butch
Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. He was nibbling on her neck, an activity
that never failed to give her goose bumps. Hmm-darn his hide. He knew
she couldn't resist that. Not that she had intended to resist anything.
"You have way too many clothes on," she murmured, drawing him toward the
bedroom as Fang danced around their feet.

"No way," he muttered as he pinned her against the wall and proceeded to
kiss and nibble and suck every square inch of her body. When he was
finished, he started all over again. That man sure had a way about him.
Which was the last cogent thought Olivia had.

Somehow they made it to the bed, where they ended up in a tangle of arms
and legs. Olivia was lying halfway on top of him, running her fingers
through the thick hair on his chest. Although he was blond, the hair on
his chest was dark brown.

"Do you dye your hair?" she asked with a smirk, knowing the question
would get a rise out of him. And she wasn't wrong.

He jerked up. "What!"

"Your hair's blond and this-" she tweaked it "-is brown."

"Ouch." He grabbed her hand. "That hurts. But I know what you're up to,
so you'd better watch out." With that proclamation, he pulled her down
for another soul-searing kiss, and a whole lot of other yummy things.

Olivia's life had been crazy. First there'd been the Peeping Tom
incident, and then the Super Saver situation. Thank goodness she had the
sexiest lawman south of the Red River in her corner. He was sweet and
protective, and behind the cocky, bad-boy grin lurked a steely-eyed cop
with a soft heart. That was a potent and formidable combo.

It felt good to trust again. And to be perfectly honest the
transformation had started the first time he'd planted those wonderfully
warm lips on hers. No doubt about it, she was toast. All golden-brown
and buttered!

163

"Get up, sleepyhead. Fang wants to talk to you."

Olivia tried to ignore CJ.'s voice as she burrowed into the pillow. She
couldn't ignore the cold wet nose and puppy kisses, however. She was so,
so tired-not surprising considering how they'd spent the night and a nap
sounded so, so good.

"Wakey, wakey, tea and cakey."

"Go away," she muttered, but when she cracked an eye C J. was at the
foot of her bed holding a white paper bag. Breakfast tacos. Just the
smell made her ravenous. How did he know that egg-and-chorizo breakfast
tacos were her all-time favorite?

"Do you have Tater Tots in there, too?" she asked. He held up another
sack, this one from the Tastee Treat. Grease was already seeping through
the brown paper. Nothing like junk food to jump-start the day.

Olivia grinned and jerked down the sheet, exposing most of her assets.
"Why don't you sit down and join me?"

He grinned and those irresistible dimples made an

appearance. "Yes, ma'am, thought you'd never ask." He dropped the bags
on the bed and got out of his clothes. The tacos would have to wait.

Several hours and a communal shower later-and who would forget that
trick he did with the soap?- he offered a suggestion for the rest of the
weekend.

"I called my lieutenant and told him I'm taking a couple of personal
days. Fang has an invitation to go to Grandma Corrine's house, so let's
visit San Antonio for the weekend," he said.

Fortunately she wasn't on call, "What do you want to do?" Olivia had
visions of dinner on the River Walk and a romantic stroll along the lazy
San Antonio River.

"It's a surprise," C.J. said with a sexy wink. Her fantasy was almost a
fait accompli.

The flat-as-a-tabletop coastal terrain soon gave way to miles and miles
of undulating grassland. Live oaks, mesquite thickets and herds of
grazing cattte provided the only visual landmarks in the land between
the Gulf Coast and San Antonio.

CJ. broke into Olivia's hypnotic trance. "Do you want to stop at Three
Rivers for one of those famous Dairy Queen milkshakes?" he drawled.
Christian had proposed to Lolly by slipping a ring into a milkshake at
that very same Dairy Queen.

The idea warranted a big smile. "Sure. But I think I'll have a
Butterfinger Blizzard."

"You got it." He signaled for an exit off the freeway and turned toward
the small town and nirvana.

164

"Hmm. That was good." Olivia rubbed her stomach.

"Do you want another one?"

"Are you kidding? That was probably worth two pounds right here." She
patted her hip as she picked up her purse. "I have to hit the ladies'
room. Once we get on the freeway, there's nothing for miles except
sagebrush and mesquite trees." And the last time she'd peed in a field
she'd ended up with a bad case of poison ivy.

When they arrived in San Antonio, C.J. passed the exit to the downtown
and River Walk, skirted the loop road leading to the area's glitziest
shopping center and sailed past all the best restaurants.

"Okay, I give up. Where are we going?" she asked. Her fantasy had
involved at least one night at La Mansion, one of the most romantic
hotels on the river. But unfortunately, they weren't anywhere near the
river.

"Fiesta Texas," he answered as he pulled into the parking lot of the
theme park.

"Are you kidding me?" she shrieked excitedly. She was a roller-coaster
junkie and Fiesta Texas was one of her favorite places.

The skies were sapphire-blue and the May heat was already scorching.
C.J. handed her a baseball cap, which she set firmly on her head,
pulling her ponytail out the back opening.

"See why I told you to wear shorts?" They strolled to the main entrance,
amid a bevy of families with kids.

Built on the remains of an old rock quarry in the rolling terrain of the
Texas Hill Country, Fiesta Texas

provided all the adrenaline, junk food and frenetic energy that any kid,
or kid at heart, could want from a one-day pass.

The park mirrored the paisley print of cultural heritage indigenous to
San Antonio. Rides had names like the Rattler, Der Rollschuhcoaster, the
Gully Washer and the Rodeo Rider.

"First things first," Olivia announced when they strolled into the park.
"I want to go to Billy Bob's River Cafe for barbecue."

Sounded like a plan to him. C.J. never turned down a good meal. So they
pigged out on succulent brisket, potato salad, coleslaw and peach cobbler.

"You ready to hit the rides?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she called over her shoulder as she flitted off to the
Rattler, one of the country's largest wooden roller-coasters.

Lolly had tried it once and then absolutely refused to go again. She'd
freaked when the cars flew into the abyss of the quarry canyon,
screeched to the top of the cliff and disappeared into a tunnel in the
cliff wall.

But C.J. was also an adrenaline junkie and pronounced the ride a pure
rush. A couple of kids seated behind them screamed the entire time, but
when the train slid into the station Olivia heard them say they were
going again. Lordy mercy! If she lived to be a thousand, she'd never
understand the mind of the munchkin.

From there the couple went to the Scream, a 200-foot skyrocketing free
fall that left Olivia breathless. After that it was on to the
Poltergeist. Talk about an

166

appropriate name-this one launched its rider from zero to sixty miles an
hour in 3.5 seconds. Now if that didn't scare the heck out of you,
nothing would.

"How about the Gully Washer," C.J. suggested next.

It was hot as Hades, but then, this was South Texas and heat was par for
the course. However, a drenching sounded wonderful. "Okay, let's go."

When they finished with the white-water rapids they were soaking wet and
it felt delicious. And speaking of wet T-shirts-the teenage attendant
who spied Olivia about went into apoplexy. C.J. couldn't blame him. No,
siree!

"Are you ready to sit under a tree and rest for a few minutes?" C.J. asked.

She nodded happily.

"Wait there and I'll go find us something to drink." He indicated an
empty bench under the shade of a massive live oak.

Olivia leaned her head back and enjoyed the cool breeze. Hmm-this felt
so good. She was contemplating a nap when C.J. returned with two cups of
icy lemonade. He could've offered her the crown jewels and they wouldn't
have been more appealing.

"Here you go. Hope this is okay."

"Oh, yeah. I feel like I've been laid out on a griddle to brown," Olivia
said as she gulped down her drink.

In an effort to get a breeze Olivia fanned the front of her T-shirt.
Damn-that woman could make

scrubbing floors look sexy and the T-shirt, well... He grabbed her hand
in mid-flap.

"I've been thinking about this for a while. I realize you're supposed to
have champagne and roses, but this seems more appropriate." C.J.
fingered the huge plastic Cracker Jack ring he had in his pocket.

It would either be the best day of his life or the worst. If she
refused, it would definitely be the worst. He took the gaudy ring from
his pocket and put it on the third finger of her left hand. "I love you
and I want to marry you." There, he'd said it-for better or worse. And
he sure hoped it was for better.

Her belly laugh was probably not a good sign. Then she slapped a hand
over her mouth and made a strangling noise. Every time she looked at her
hand, she broke into gales of laughter.

Well, damn. This was going to be the day from hell.

When she could finally control her giggles, she said, "You're kidding,
right?"

Obviously the Cracker Jack ring was a strategic error. "No, I wasn't
kidding. The ring is a joke, but if you say yes I'll buy you any ring
you want."

She held up her hand and gaped.

It was time for him to take some decisive action. "Come here." C.J.
pulled her into his arms and stroked her back. Tears dampened his shirt.
Maybe they were tears of happiness, but hey, he was just a guy and guys
were notoriously bad at deciphering the female mind. Deciding in for a
penny and all that rot, he forged ahead. "All you have to do is say yes."

168

His comment was greeted by another strangled noise. Jeez, he should
probably ditch the optimism.

He raised her chin and kissed her. "Do you love me?"

Olivia nodded.

"Will you marry me?"

She nodded again.

Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!

Olivia gazed at the awful plastic ring. Even though he'd made vague
noises about the future, she'd expected to have plenty of time to make a
logical decision. But no-the dope had sprung it on her right in front of
Bugs Bunny. For that reason, if no other, she should politely decline.

No way. He might be a dope, but he was her dope.

C.J. jumped up and pulled Olivia with him. "We're off to North Star mall."

Olivia wasn't thinking about his promise to buy her any ring she wanted.
"I'm hot and sticky and my nose is sunburned. Why would I want to go
shopping at North Star Mall?" She referred to the most glamorous
shopping center in San Antonio.

The grin he produced was heart stopping. He picked up her hand and
kissed the palm. "Darlin', we're gonna buy us a ring."

And who could argue with that?

"And after we buy this ring, are you up for a weekend at La Mansion?"

"Oh, yes, sir. That's the best idea I've ever heard."

169

Selena was bored. C.J. was away for the weekend, Corrine was out with
biker Dan, and Fang was napping. Plus, she was about to break out in
hives from being around Chandler Baker 24/7. He was rude to the point of
being obnoxious and had on numerous occasions rebuffed her offers to
help with his physical therapy. Oooh, no-the idiot would rather drive to
Corpus Christi every day than accept help from her.

But it was probably for the best. She wouldn't consider putting her
hands on that man. She sighed. Who did she think she was kidding?

Aargh! She had to get out of the house but C.J. had threatened to lock
her in her room if she as much as considered going to town. Even a trip
to Piggly-Wiggly was sounding like a great outing-and the mere thought
of Dillard's department store sent her heart into palpitations. It was
broad daylight, for goodness sake. What could happen at Piggly Wiggly?

170

Considering her Hick, probably a lot, but she was going to the grocery
store, anyway.

Why did she always feel compelled to tempt fate? Why? Why? Why?

As Selena was loading the groceries in the back of Corrine's car, she
felt, rather than heard someone walk up. Before she could react, a
strong hand covered her mouth and lifted her off her feet.

Big, big uh-oh! A rusted Mercedes drove up and the driver opened the
trunk. Before she knew what had happened, she was unceremoniously dumped
inside. Madre de Dios!

Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic. Selena felt faint. Deep breath.
Deep breath. Keep breathing. Breathing's good. Remember the survival
course from freshman year and whatever you do, don't hyperventilate. She
could hear a muffled horn. She hoped someone had seen what happened, but
she didn't have the luxury of waiting to be rescued. If these jerks
worked for Enrique, all bets were off.

It was hotter than hell in the car trunk and sweat was dripping from
every pore. Even her hands were slick. What had the instructor of that
course said about the panels on the taillights? All she could remember
was his fine tight buns. Get a grip, girl, and think! Think. Think. Think.

Then she remembered-pop the cover off the tail-lights so she could see.
Then there was something about a trunk release latch. That's right. The
guy said to look for the doohickey under the carpet. Please

God, let this piece of dog doo have a doohickey under the carpet.

She broke several nails trying to rip up the trunk liner. Piggly Wiggly
was in the middle of town, so that gave her a few minutes' grace. If she
knew Enrique, and she knew Enrique better than she wanted to, they were
on their way to the marina to smuggle her back to South America. And
South America was the last place she planned to go.

The carpet gave way with a snap and Selena whacked her head so hard she
saw stars. Then she realized in all the time they'd been driving they'd
never come to a full stop. That meant the idiots were running stop signs
and red lights-and wasn't it a good thing that brains weren't a
requisite for Enrique's employees? What was with all that horn honking?

Holy mother-there was a latch. She said a half-dozen Hail Marys and
pulled as hard as she could. The trunk lid rose almost an inch and
through the opening she could see a white minivan right on their bumper.
Thank goodness, someone in the van was honking the horn.

While she scrambled to find a makeshift tool to pry the trunk all the
way open, the minivan slid into the lane next to the Mercedes. The next
thing Selena knew, there was a crunch on the driver's side. The minivan
was trying to force them off the road. Thank you, God!

As if under the influence of divine intervention, her hand touched cold
steel in the form of a crowbar.

Another crunch of metal on metal and she had the

172

trunk open. The Mercedes had skidded to a stop and was resting against a
telephone pole, so Selena wasted no time in jumping out. She looked over
her shoulder and saw that her abductors were temporarily out of
commission. The door to the van slid open and a feminine voice screamed
at her to get in.

She didn't need a second invitation. Her savior was Lorraine Hightower,
an English teacher at the high school-short, plump, overpermed and
obviously a NASCAR wannabe. Thank you, God.

"You want to go to the city cops or the county mounties?" She executed
an expert spin and hit the gas.

"County, definitely the sheriff's office." Selena took a deep breath.
Swear to God she'd never fantasize about a produce section again.

173

The minute C.J. returned from his weekend in San Antonio he was hit with
the news of Selena's abduction. Damnation. It had to be Enrique.

C.J. and his deputies watched the Piggly Wiggly security tape over, and
over, and over.

"Damn it! Why are these tapes so bad?" he exclaimed. The actual
kidnapping was grainy but the crime was obvious; the license plate and
any other identifying marks on the Mercedes were not. It probably didn't
matter. The plates on the Mercedes involved in the wreck with Mrs.
Pomerantz had been stolen.

"Darn good thing Miz Hightower had to get her high blood pressure
prescription refilled." Although the comment came from one of the
deputies, it echoed C.J.'s thoughts exactly. No telling what would have
happened if Mrs. Hightower hadn't been there. However, Selena wasn't any
slouch in the survival department. C.J. was proud of her.

"Any hits on the car?" he asked even though he knew the deputies would
alert him the minute anything

174

turned up. When the police had arrived at the scene, the Mercedes was
long gone. The only thing left was a hubcap and a smear of paint. Not
much to goon.

"Nope, boss. My guess is that they're holed up in some dive in Corpus
Christi." That came from C.J.'s second-in-command. "And they probably
took the car to a wrecking yard. We have the Corpus cops looking for a
junker Mercedes with a smashed-in side."

"Good." He dismissed the deputies and put his booted feet on the desk.
It was his favorite position for meditating.

He'd thrown the entire resources of his department into finding the
scumbags who'd assaulted Olivia and tried to kidnap Selena. He was sure
he was after two different perps, and they'd both managed to simply vanish.

Could Olivia and Selena be involved in a random crime wave? Not likely.
He was ninety-nine percent sure Enrique was the threat to Selena; as for
Olivia's assailant, he didn't have a clue. So he figured he'd start with
the enemy he knew. C.J. pulled his feet off the desk and picked up the
phone. This outlandish idea had been brewing for a while-and now was the
time to put it into action.

They agreed to meet at the Watering Hole, because it was the only place
Fang would be welcome and it was too hot for him to wait in the car.
C.J. was already in their favorite booth when Christian arrived.

"Hey, partner, what's up?" Christian greeted his friend and reached down
to scratch behind Fang's ears.

"You want the good news first?" C.J. asked as his friend settled in the
booth.

"Sure."

"I gave Livy a ring yesterday."

"Hot damn! Congratulations."

"Thanks. I'm a happy man."

"When's the big day?"

"Don't know. We haven't gotten that far."

Christian called a waitress over and ordered. "So hit me with the bad news."

C.J. ran a finger over the condensation on his glass of iced tea before
he answered. "Selena was kidnapped and thrown in the trunk of a car in
the middle of the Piggly Wiggly parking lot."

"Really! She okay?" Christian asked.

"Yeah. She took a course on survival skills in college. Apparently they
taught them how to get out of a car trunk. And Mrs. Hightower from the
high school rode to the rescue, so Selena is okay. Scared, but okay."

"Enrique?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty certain his goons were the culprits. But I have to
make sure I'm right. If he's the guy, I have an idea." C.J. took a big
swallow of tea. "We've got to get rid of Enrique once and for all, and I
need your help. But feel free at any time to tell me to take a hike.
This one is really off the wall."

Christian grinned, but his smile fell short of being humorous. "You know
I like off the wall. Tell me."

176

When C.J. finished outlining his idea, Christian whooped. "Man! You're
the most devious son-of-a-gun I've ever met, ya know that?"

Yeah, C.J. was aware of that fact. "Do you think it'll work?"

"As a matter of fact, I think it will. We'd better not get caught,
though, because sure as shootin' they'd throw our butts under their jail."

Ain't that the truth!

177

Selena had promised C.J. that she'd stay home. Logic told her he was right.

But the more she thought about it, the more determined she was to take
control of her life. And if that control meant a 9mm Glock, so be it.
Damn Enrique, anyway. She'd taken the survival course as a lark, but
thank God she'd taken it. Who would really expect to be thrown into the
trunk of a car?

The next time brother dearest or any of his stupid goons tried
something, Selena planned to be prepared. It had been quite a test of
her devious skills to sneak away successfully from Corrine and Chandler,
but the mission had been accomplished. Bureaucratic hoops were a
nightmare; however, Selena was now the proud owner of her very own Dirty
Harry. Firearms training had been another course she'd taken. So come
and get it, Enrique, because this girl wasn't going down without a fight.

Now that Selena's primary mission had been accomplished, it was time for
a little retail therapy-

178

possibly a new pair of sandals, a sexy little sundress or some new
makeup. Where was the nearest Bobbie Brooks counter?

The last swipe of mascara was barely dry when her good mood was
interrupted by an obnoxious male voice. Chandler-sexy, insufferable
Chandler. Why was it that C.J. was the only male in her life worth a peso?

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled.

Selena swirled on her stool, oblivious to the admiring looks Chandler
was getting from the makeup artist. "Hello, Chandler, nice to see you,
too." She'd be damned if she'd let him make her mad.

"Let's get out of here." He made a grab for her hand, but missed. Just
the thought of her prancing around a mall with Enrique's goons on the
loose made his blood boil.

Selena ignored him as she tipped the blonde with the mascara wand.
"Thanks for the compliment, Chandler. I like my new look, too." She
picked up her shopping bags and deliberately sashayed away.
Unfortunately, her cold shoulder didn't deter him for long.

"Don't you realize someone is trying to kidnap you?" He was louder than
he'd intended to be, and lowered his voice for the next accusation. "Do
you have a brain in that pretty little head of yours?" He emphasized the
insult by grabbing her arm.

Enough was enough. "Yes, I know that. I do have a brain, and I don't
give a damn what you think," she muttered, getting right into his face.
"And secondly,

I don't have any desire to become acquainted with the security folks in
this department store. So if you want to talk and you think you can keep
it civil, I'll let you buy me a cup of coffee." She marched out the door
leading to the mall. Chandler complained all the way to the coffee shop.

"Okay." He rubbed his face as he took a sip of coffee. "Let me start
over. I couldn't believe it when I discovered you were gone. On a hunch,
I decided to try the mall. I'm worried about you. Enrique is dangerous."

He was speaking to her as if she was a particularly slow learner. The
man actually cared! That realization almost modified her response, but
not quite.

"You know what, Chandler? Nothing irritates me faster than a
condescending jerk. Of course I know I'm in danger. But I'll go straight
over the edge if I'm stuck in the house much longer. So I'm doing some
shopping. It makes me feel better." That wasn't exactly a truthful
answer, but he didn't need to know she had a gun. She took a decisive
bite of her cheese Danish.

Chandler massaged the bridge of his nose, then picked up her hand. "I
realize I've been hard to live with, and I'll also admit I'm a
card-carrying knuckle-head. But I have a proposition." He held her hand
between both of his. "Let's start over."

Lulled by the conciliatory tone of his voice, and the fact she was sick
of being on edge, Selena reluctantly agreed. When sleep eluded her in
the dead of night she would sometimes admit that a great deal of the
tension with Chandler, at least on her part, was

180

sexual in origin-not that she had a chance in the world of its being
reciprocated. Way to go, girl! So if he was willing to call a truce, it
was okay with her.

"How about we get some lunch, and then I'll follow you home."

The perverse idea of testing his new tolerance took root. "I'm not
through shopping."

Chandler looked like he wanted to bolt, but he held firm. "I'll go with
you."

"Are you sure?" Selena smiled sweetly.

"Yeah, I'm positive." He seemed anything but enthusiastic.

"Great, let's go to Victoria's Secret."

This time he truly did look as if he had just crunched a cockroach.

C.J. had his head poked into the Baker family refrigerator studying his
snack choices when Chandler swatted his butt. In a repeat of an
oft-played scene from their childhood, C.J. jerked up and clobbered his
noggin. Fang scampered around their feet, sure this was some kind of fun
game.

"Hey, dimwit. I could get a concussion." C.J. rubbed the top of his head.

"Not with a head that hard, you couldn't."

C.J. let that one slide. "We need to talk." He took two Cokes out of the
refrigerator and tossed one to Chandler.

"Where's Mom?"

Chandler sat down and popped the lid of his soft drink. "She's out
somewhere with Dan the Man."

Both men shuddered at the thought of their mother having a boyfriend,
and B) their mother being a Harley babe.

"Have you seen her all duded up in her leathers?" Chandler asked.

C.J. thankfully could say he'd missed that pleasure. What was the world
coming to? Mothers in leather. "Nope, can't say I have."

"Well, let me tell you. She's something else."

Too much information. "Where's Selena?"

"She's camped out in her room. Do you realize she went to the mall in
Corpus this morning?" Chandler paused. "I about had a heart attack when
I found her."

"Good Lord! What is wrong with that girl?"

"I don't know what she was thinking." Chandler shook his head. "But we
have to do something about this Enrique situation, quick."

It was the first time C.J. had ever heard Chandler express an interest
in Selena's problems. That was good for two reasons. First of all, C.J.
suspected his brother had strong feelings for Selena that he was
denying, and secondly, his help was essential in pulling off C.J.'s
scheme without anyone getting arrested or killed. Fortunately,
Chandler's therapy had worked and he was back in righting form.

"I have an idea." He filled Chandler in on the general concept of his plan.

After he'd finished, Chandler set his Coke on the table. "God, you're
unbelievable." He shook his head. "But it might work. It just might
work. When do we begin?"

182

"As soon as possible," C.J. answered. "But first we have to have a
family confab." As much as he wanted to help Selena, and he truly did
want to keep her safe, he also wanted to tell his family about his
engagement. Corrine would be ecstatic; Selena was going to be mildly
surprised but happy for him, and Chandler would hoist a beer in honor of
the occasion.

Through Christian's South American contacts, they'd determined that
there was a bounty on Selena's head. Good old Enrique, the scum-sucking
pig, had bartered his sister to a pervert named Hector Solis for a
bigger cut of the Miami drug trade. C.J. remembered Hector-he had
already buried three younger wives, and Selena was not about to become
his fourth.

C.J., Chandler and Christian were scheduled to meet at the Shrimp Shack,
a typical Gulf Coast fast-food joint where everything except the
coleslaw was cooked in the same grease-shrimp, fish, chicken, even the
fries. A family with a passel of towheaded children abandoned the booth
by the kitchen, leaving a trail of crumbs, ketchup smears and all the
other flotsam and jetsam associated with kid dining.

C.J. had ordered a Lone Star and was halfway through the beer when
Christian joined him, followed shortly by Chandler.

"I ordered three baskets of shrimp. Hope that's okay," he informed his
companions.

"Sure. Did you order me a beer?" Christian asked, and when C.J. shook
his head he hailed the waitress.

The waitress returned shortly with their drinks, and after she left,
they began their strategy session.

"I've sketched out the entire operation. If you think it's stupid as all
hell, let me know now," C.J. said.

When he finished, the silence at the table was complete. Christian and
Chandler were either overwhelmed at his audacity or astonished at his
stupidity. He hoped it was the former.

Chandler finally broke the silence. "I'm sure I know the answer, but I
have to ask. Are you guys sure you have the contacts you need to pull
this off?"

C.J. glanced at his former partner. "With Christian's help, we do. And I
know a couple of deep-cover DEA guys who owe me big time."

"Okay, let's consider it a done deal." Christian said. "When we get
through with him, Enrique will wish he'd never heard of Port Serenity."

185

The clatter of dishes was drowned out by the drone of conversation at
Daisy's Diner, the best place on the Gulf Coast for biscuits and gravy.
Lolly had chosen the place to break the news of her engagement, and now
Olivia intended to reciprocate.

The news of Selena's kidnapping had put a temporary damper on her good
mood. But there were a few people she couldn't wait to tell-namely her
parents and Lolly. If they heard the good news through the grapevine
she'd definitely be in the doghouse.

Olivia couldn't stop staring at her engagement ring. It was perfect-a
brilliant ruby surrounded by diamonds. C.J. said it suited her better
than a traditional ring.

Lolly and the twins arrived amid a flurry of "howdys" from the rest of
the diners. She finally maneuvered the tandem stroller into place and
fell into the booth.

"If we have any luck at all, they'll go to sleep. I

just fed them." As she pushed the stroller back and forth both children
began to look droopy.

Lolly tucked a blanket under Renee's chin. "The little piglets will be
milkshake junkies by the time they get to the first grade."

The milkshake thing had been their private joke for years. Lolly
couldn't pass a Dairy Queen without whipping by the take-out window.
Lord-the woman should weigh three hundred pounds but-but no, she looked
like a movie star.

Olivia's left hand was on the table, covered with her right.

A tiny burp was the signal that both girls were off in Sandman Land, so
Lolly grabbed a menu. "No telling how long they'll be asleep. I'd better
order now."

Olivia waited patiently while her friend decided on lunch, then broached
the subject. "I had an exciting experience over the weekend."

That got Lolly's attention. "What?"

"This." Olivia held her hand out.

"Ohmigod!" Lolly squealed. The twins both jerked awake and joined in the
racket. "Ohmigod." Lolly repeated, but lowered the decibel level as she
rocked the stroller. "Please tell me that's from CJ."

"Yep."

"Oh, sweetie, if I could get over there to hug you without disturbing
these two-" she nodded at the twins "-I'd squeeze you to death. I can't
believe it. I was beginning to think you weren't ever going to get
together. Wait till I tell Christian. And you owe me a trip to Mexico."
She smirked.

186

Olivia was smiling so much her cheeks hurt. "I'm going to run by the
house this afternoon to tell Mom and Dad. I think they'll be pleased."

"Pleased! Are you nuts? They'll be tickled pink," Lolly announced, and
Olivia suspected she was right.

"You back there. Mama?" Olivia called from the front hall then made her
way to the kitchen. "Smells wonderful in here." She lifted the lid on a
huge pot.

"We're having gumbo," Rose said as she took a skillet of cornbread from
the oven. "Are you staying for supper?"

"Sure." Olivia grabbed a carrot from the chopping block and took a big bite.

""What do you think?" When she presented her hand for inspection. Rose
squealed at the top of her lungs.

Raul came skidding into the kitchen. "What's wrong?"

Rose had enveloped her daughter in a gigantic hug and was crying.
"Look." She held up Olivia's hand. "She's engaged! About time. I'm going
to have the chance to be a grandmother."

Babies were the last thing on Olivia's mind; she was still trying to
decide how it had all happened. The next step after an engagement was a
wedding, and that meant china patterns and bridesmaids.

Mother Mary! Was she ready for this?

187

C.J. had waged a long debate with himself over what to tell Olivia about
the Enrique plan, but honesty finally won. He just hoped the truth
didn't bite him on the butt.

He had called Olivia's office hoping to catch her before she went home.
"Livy darlin', I need to talk to you. Let's go to dinner."

Olivia quickly agreed to the date. "You're on. I've had a really rough
day. But we have to go someplace that serves green stuff. Your eating
habits are deplorable."

"That's because I've been a bachelor for years." He couldn't wait until
he had someone to share dinner with on a permanent basis. Even grilled
cheese sandwiches would be a delight if he shared them with Olivia.

Green and healthy were the criteria. His mom served vegetables with
every meal, but her place wasn't an option for this conversation. The
next best solution was Lindy's Cafeteria-they had the best fried okra
and butterbeans in the county.

188

They gorged themselves on fried chicken, corn bread, mashed potatoes and
collard greens before C.J. worked up the courage to initiate the topic
he really wanted to discuss.

"Livy," he said as he dug into a bowl of banana pudding. Maybe some
refined sugar would give him a boost of courage. "We've decided to take
care of Enrique Bolivar. If we don't, Selena will never be safe. I've
put as many men as I can on both you and Selena, but I can't provide
twenty-four-hour-a-day bodyguards. Chandler's at home to watch Selena,
so that's a stopgap. But we have to come up with a permanent solution."

"And how about me?" Olivia asked.

C.J. gave her one of his broadest grins. "You could move into my house
or I could move into yours. Or I could spend every night at your house."
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Although they were engaged and she was sorely tempted, she couldn't
quite make that leap. "I don't think so. Not right now." She knew her
answer irritated him, but he managed to maintain his calm cop voice.

"And when will you be ready? Or were you planning to maintain separate
houses after we get married."

That was a bit snide, but could she really blame him?

Olivia put her hand over his. "I love you, honestly I do. Just give me
some time, okay?" When she stopped breaking out in hives whenever she
thought about wedding invitations, everything would be A-okay-really it
would.

His eyes crinkled in the beginnings of a grin. "Sure. But you can't
blame a guy for trying."

Olivia wiped her mouth and set down her fork. "We'll work this out, I
know we will. But for right this minute, let's return to the original
subject. What do you mean you're going to do something about Bolivar?"

"Christian, Chandler and I have a plan. And I'll need you to babysit Fang."

"Certainly I'll keep him, I love him. And what do you mean, a plan?"

C.J. explained the proposed scenario, and when he finished Olivia was
dumbfounded. What a harebrained, ingenious idea.

"And what happens if you idiots get caught?"

C.J. managed to look sheepish. "They'll throw us in jail and you'll have
to come down and break us out."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say." Lord in heaven, she
loved that man, but the things he was willing to do were outlandish. She
prayed he didn't get killed in Mexico.

191

The interior of the cantina was dark and smelled of sweat, urine and
years of spilled tequila. A haggard prostitute stopped C.J. and rubbed
her breasts against his arm. The woman must be desperate-he was looking
pretty skanky. He shook his head in response to her final shimmy and
headed to the table where Christian was nursing a drink.

Christian nodded toward the whore, who had approached another potential
customer. "Must be the biker look. Gets the girls every time." And he
should know; he'd used it frequently during his undercover days.

C.J. ignored his comment. "Is everything ready?" he asked, even though
Christian had been in Mexico for almost two weeks setting up the sting
and C.J. knew he wouldn't leave anything to chance.

"Yep."

"What did you tell the captain?" C.J. asked, even though the answer was
irrelevant.

"When I told him we had a plan to lure Enrique

Bolivar to Matamoros and then spirit him across the border, he didn't
bat an eyelash. He simply asked if we'd informed our Mexican friends
about this little party. When I told him no, he said, and I quote 'The
less I know, the less I'll have to tell anyone who asks.' Then he kicked
me out of his office."

Everything was falling into place. All they needed was the final puzzle
piece-Enrique Bolivar.

C.J. leaned his chair back on two legs. Enrique had a child with a
potentially fatal heart problem. Unfortunately, Enrique's empathy didn't
extend to getting his son proper medical attention. Fortunately, that
made the child's mother extremely receptive to the idea of helping C.J.

"The kid and his grandmother are already on their way to the specialty
clinic in Alabama for his operation." Arranging that kind of medical
attention had been no small feat.

"Can his mother really lure Bolivar up here?" Christian asked.

C.J. threw back a shot of tequila before he answered. "I'd bet my
pension on it. Luna is Bolivar's cousin and his latest lover. And as we
both know, he doesn't like to give away his possessions. That's why he
has his boxers in such a twist over Selena, and it's why he'll follow
Luna here."

"You don't think she'll double-cross us, do you?" Christian was pretty
sure he knew the answer, but he wanted confirmation.

"No way. First of all, she's not that fond of Enrique, and more than
anything she'd protect that kid

192

of hers with her life. The whole family is planning to stay in Alabama
after the operation."

Christian wondered whether the rickety chair would hold him if he tipped
it back. "Brief me again on the story we're using for her trip to the
border."

"She's supposed to be visiting her dying mother, but mamacita has
mysteriously vanished. Strange how those women vanish into thin air,"
C.J. said and then contemplated the danger involved in this plan- both
personally and professionally. Since it was a rogue mission, they'd be
in a huge mess if they failed.

Chandler strolled in and took a seat. He was their logistics guy.

"Everything ready?" C.J. asked his brother.

Chandler made an okay sign with his fingers. "Let's get this show on the
road."

The dingy alley smelled like rotting food. A barefoot child followed
them, begging for money, gum and cigarettes. It was stupid, but C.J.
couldn't resist. He handed the kid a few bucks and before long, they
were surrounded by a horde of children ranging in age from two to fifteen.

"There's our ride." Chandler indicated a recent-model Volvo station
wagon with a Matamoros policeman leaning against the front bumper. He
gave the man a bill-a large bill-and the cop strolled off.

Chandler hit the automatic locks and the men climbed in to go to the
rundown '50s-era motel that was their base of operation. It was situated
on the southern edge of town and their rooms were at the

far end of the complex, hidden by a screen of lush vegetation. The
remote location and thick tropical foliage made it perfect for a kidnapping.

"Luna's already here and ready to go. She's a bit nervous, but as long
as she can hold it together, I think we're okay," Chandler informed them
as he killed the engine. C.J. hadn't spotted the highly effective group
of Drug Enforcement agents Christian had recruited to take care of
Bolivar's bodyguards. However, he was sure they were present. With those
guys on the job, Enrique's goons would be expeditiously removed from the
scene. One minute they'd be there, the next they'd be gone.

As soon as Bolivar entered the motel room he'd be completely on his own
and that didn't bode well for his future freedom. C.J. hated involving
Luna in this operation but if it was the only way he could free Selena
from the hell her life had become, he'd do it.

C.J. stepped into the room and was assailed by a blast of frigid air and
the overpowering odor of moldy carpet. The air-conditioning was a
welcome relief from the oppressive heat; as for the stale smell-they
wouldn't stick around long enough to die from toxic mold.

"You might want to get dressed while we wait." Chandler tossed him a
pile of clothing.

With a mere change of clothes, C.J. suddenly became a yuppie-Docksiders
(no socks), Polo (with an embroidered horse on the pocket) and khaki
shorts. Who said clothes didn't make the man?

Waiting was the hard part-keeping the adrenaline

194

under control, anticipating each move, and waiting. It was almost an
hour before they heard anything other than background noise on the
listening devices they'd planted in the room next door. Then they heard
Enrique Bolivar's voice. The curtain on this drama was about to go up
and C.J.'s crew was ready. He touched the 9mm Beretta tucked in the back
waistband of his shorts.

The woman greeted her visitor and there was a period of silence.

"The goodbye kiss," Christian commented. "Too bad the sucker doesn't
know it will be the last one he gets for a long, long time."

When they heard Bolivar excuse himself to go to the bathroom, CJ.
silently opened the adjoining door and felt a surge of sympathy for the
woman standing by the bed. Luna looked like a deer caught in the
headlights, but regardless of her terror, or maybe because of it, she
managed to scamper into their room. From there one of the DEA guys would
take her across the border and send her on to her son in Alabama.

Bolivar was focused on taking care of business and missed the fact that
he had company-until Christian pumped a load of anesthetic into his arm.
He made a choking sound and attempted a futile grab for his gun before
dropping like a rock.

"Watch him, and I'll get his new wardrobe," C.J. instructed as he
returned to the adjoining room to retrieve the bag he had stashed.

By the time C.J. came back with the items they needed to transform
Enrique into a drunken computer salesman, Christian had him stripped. On
went the shorts, off went the scraggly beard-and on went the University
of Texas ball cap.

"What do you think?" C.J. asked as he stepped back to admire the
transformation.

"I think the border guards would have to be blind to buy this one,"
Christian admitted rather reluctantly. "But we'll make it work. We have to."

Chandler had the audacity to smile. "Or maybe they'll need the right
incentive." He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in the universal
symbol for money. "And I've taken care of that bribe."

C.J. nodded, knowing his brother had done what was necessary to smooth
the way. "Do you have the extra syringe?" he asked.

"Right here." Christian produced a capped needle from his pocket. "And
here's the booze." He poured a liberal portion into Bolivar's mouth and
then tilted him to let it run on to the floor. "Don't want him to drown
on this stuff, do we?" If things worked out as planned, this would be
the last time Senor Bolivar breathed the fresh air of freedom.

Two DEA men were waiting outside with the Volvo. They threw Bolivar in
the back seat, while C.J. and Christian jumped in to bracket him.

"Whew! Could someone crank up the air conditioner? The smell on this guy
could knock over an elephant," Christian complained as he shifted
Bolivar's face toward CJ. "How long do you think he'll be out?" he asked
Chandler, who had provided the sedative.

"Long enough," Chandler answered and then

196

handed Christian the liquor bottle before he got into the driver's seat.
"Rinse your mouth out," he instructed. "We have to all smell like booze.
That is, everyone but me. I'm your designated driver."

C.J. was astonished his brother was risking a stay in a Mexican jail for
someone he supposedly didn't like. Uh-huh-sure!

Their plan was to go through the border crossing posing as a group of
high-flying Texans on a bachelor party to end all parties. Two days of
drinking, strippers-the full-meal deal.

Traffic slowed and came to a stop as the lights of the Mexican/U.S.
border lit up the night sky. The U.S. immigration folks would be harder
to fool than the Mexican Federates, especially since some money had
strategically changed hands on the southern side of the border. But it
still wouldn't be a walk in the park.

As the traffic queue inched closer to the Mexican checkpoint C.J. could
see that on the American side some cars were pulled over for a detailed
inspection. The officials were looking for drugs, untaxed booze and
terrorists. And although this was a highly illegal operation, they
didn't fit the profile. If luck was with them, and if the stars were all
properly aligned, they'd be able to slide through with minimal
interrogation.

And then it happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, C.J. spotted something so out of place it
made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. "Crap!" C.J. muttered
and nudged Christian. "Do you see what I see?"

Christian glanced toward the Mexican guard shack and immediately spied a
SWAT team-all decked out in Kevlar; obviously they were waiting for
something or someone. He just hoped it wasn't them!

"I'd say we'd better start saying a few Hail Marys," Christian mumbled.
They were sitting ducks if the dudes in black were after them. Even
though they all had hidden weapons, they weren't about to get involved
in a firefight.

"Stay calm," C.J. said, although he knew the warning wasn't necessary.
These guys were as professional as they came.

They inched forward, expecting the worst, hoping for the best. It was
finally their turn to approach the Mexican policeman, but he stepped in
front of the car and stopped their forward motion.

Then all hell broke loose. Thank goodness it was aimed at the car on
their left. When the chaos died down, four men were kissing the asphalt.
And it wasn't them!

"That's enough to make you need a clean pair of drawers," the DEA agent
in the front seat whispered. And wasn't that the truth.

It took almost an hour for the traffic to resume its crawl north. Inch
by agonizing inch they moved forward.

When they reached the Mexican policeman, he leaned in the driver's side
window and briefly looked over the five men. After a perfunctory glance
at their IDs, he waved them through. Another obstacle

198

down, but the hardest was yet to come. Talk about anticlimactic.

The Volvo rolled up to the U.S. checkpoint. Inside the guard post, one
INS officer ran their license plate while the men outside conducted
hands-on inspections of cars as they streamed across the border.
Thousands of people used this bridge every day for work, play and
smuggling operations.

A man in a khaki uniform leaned into the window. "May I see some ID from
all you gentlemen?" Talk about a question for which there was only one
acceptable answer.

Chandler whipped out his passport almost as fast as he kicked into his
thick Texas drawl. "Sure 'nuf. Here you go. Now the fella in the back's
kinda three sheets to the wind-you know what I mean," he whispered as if
they were best friends. "He's gettin' married and we took him out to
have one last fling. I'm driving 'cause I don't drink, but the rest of
these fellas are in bad shape."

At the declaration, Christian let out an earthshaking belch. Everyone in
the car, with the exception of Bolivar, was praying their fake IDs would
stand the test of two separate border inspections.

The border guard appeared doubtful as he checked the pile of IDs they
had handed him. He motioned over another man who glanced into the car
and then checked the paperwork before he waved them through.

C.J. didn't realize he'd been holding his breath. If the guards on
either side of the border had called

their bluff, they'd have been in a pile of trouble. But they'd actually
made it through.

After they were safely in the U.S., Chandler pulled the car over and
high-fived Christian and C.J.

"As soon as we get to Harlingen, we'll anonymously dump our friend with
the authorities and make ourselves scarce," C.J. said, repeating their
plan. If they'd been caught, the entire law enforcement world would have
disavowed them. But they'd been successful, and not only would this scum
cease to be a problem for Selena, he would face justice. With his
outstanding warrants, Enrique would be lucky to make it out of jail
before the age of ninety.

Now C.J. had to turn a laser focus on the situation with Olivia and her
unknown assailant.

201

CJ. had been in Mexico almost a week and Olivia was antsy about getting
him home. The deputy sitting outside her house and the vet clinic was
reassuring, but just the idea of having a babysitter irritated her.
She'd much rather have CJ. guard her body.

Her vet tech had called in sick, so she was staying late to check the
post-op patients. Dr. Bob had volunteered, but it was his bowling night
and Olivia sent him off. Not only was it a good way to make points with
her boss, it was a great excuse to skip Rose's latest Sara Belle party.
Heaven help the female population of Port Serenity-her mother had been
snookered into becoming a Sara Belle distributor. Please God, that phase
of Mama's life would end soon-Olivia had about had it with stuffed
mushrooms and sherbet punch.

A trio of barking dogs greeted her as she opened the kennel door. It was
as dark as the inside of a well; the only illumination was the exit
sign. So it came as a huge surprise when she bounced off an obviously
male body. Big uh-oh. Then she felt the gun in her ribs. Pulleeze-not again.

"Eeeyyaaa!" Olivia screamed at the top of her lungs. The unexpected
screech startled her assailant into dropping his arm for a brief but
valuable moment. Time to beat feet. Olivia sprinted to her office
intending to barricade herself in and call for help- if the phone lines
weren't cut. But she had a cell phone in her purse. She could only hope
she'd recharged the stupid thing.

Olivia slammed through the swinging door and heard a grunt of pain when
it flew back and into the man's face. Deep down she hoped the jerk had a
broken nose, not that she was a violent person or anything like that.

Fifteen more feet to her office, fifteen more feet to a cell phone that
might or might not be charged, fifteen more feet to safety-but she
didn't make it even two feet before he grabbed her ponytail and pulled
her to a screeching halt. Damn, damn, double damn, that hurt.

On to Plan B-but what was Plan B? Kick him in the nuts, gouge his eyes
out or give him an elbow in the gut. Then she saw the cage where Myrtie
the giant python was napping and she had a white-hot, mind-searing
stroke of genius. Myrtie was huge, scary and best of all-Myrtie was a
snake. Olivia happened to know she was a sweetie, but she scared the
piddle out of just about everyone.

Olivia reached into the glass cage and grabbed the reptile's head. She
prayed this idiot wasn't the one

202

person in a thousand who actually liked long, scaly, cold-blooded
creatures. Myrtie was too heavy to get her totally out of her aquarium,
but Olivia had her hands around enough of Myrtie's body to poke the head
of the sleeping reptile in her pursuer's face. When Myrtie flicked her
forked tongue, the idiot let out a primal scream and scrambled for the
exit. Thank God! He wasn't a snake lover.

Olivia stuffed Myrtie back into her glass home. Her rubbery knees barely
carried her to the office where she immediately pushed the filing
cabinet in front of the door. Fang writhed around her ankles, barking
and panting. Great-she wasn't the only one about to hyperventilate. CJ.
wasn't answering his cell, so she did the next best thing and called 911.

Chandler and CJ. were still basking in the euphoria of a job well done
when they pulled into Corrine's driveway. Barring any complications,
Enrique Bolivar wouldn't bother anyone for at least a decade. It might
not have been the most legal action the brothers had ever taken, but
they'd accomplished something every drug agency in the country had tried
and failed to do. Another bad guy was off the street and Selena could
breathe a sigh of relief.

CJ. cut the engine and turned to Chandler. "Thanks. We couldn't have
done it without you." This was about as close as the brothers would get
to a hug.

Chandler smiled. "My pleasure. Now maybe Selena can get on with her life."

"I've been meaning to ask you, but I wasn't completely sure you wouldn't
punch me in the nose. What's up with you two?"

Chandler was deep in thought. "I'm not sure. Physically-nothing.
Mentally-we have this killer love/hate relationship." He laughed
ruefully. "You ought to know how it is. I'm desperately trying to
squelch my lascivious ideas. You might not have noticed, but she hates me."

CJ. was about to refute that statement when he was interrupted by his
cell phone. "Baker here," he answered.

"C J." Olivia tried not to sound hysterical, but she wasn't very successful.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"He.. .he.. .he," she sniffed and then broke into sobs.

"Slow down. Take a deep breath," C J. said gently. "And tell me what
happened."

"Someone broke into the clinic."

"Just wait there. Are you all right?" A surge of panic almost
overwhelmed him. "Lock your office door. I'll be there in two minutes."

In the background he could hear a man's voice. "Is that one of my deputies?"

"Yeah. I'm okay, just scared. I think the knocking is my bodyguard."

"Don't answer. Let me contact the dispatcher and make sure it's legit."
He sprinted to the Explorer to use the radio. When he confirmed that it
was his deputy trying to get into the vet clinic, he hit the siren and
sped to Olivia.

A veteran NASCAR driver couldn't have done

204

better. C.J. skidded into the parking lot and was out of the Explorer
almost before he'd slammed the transmission into Park. The flashing
red-and-blue lights of Deputy Cunningham's cruiser bounced off the white
walls.

C.J. followed the sound of voices to Olivia's office and took her into
his arms. "Livy, I about freaked out." His first inclination was to pat
down every square inch of her body, but since there were two deputies
watching, he ruled out that idea.

He kept his arm around her shoulders, but addressed his men. "Find
anything?"

"Nope, boss. Not a thing other than the fact that he picked the lock on
the back door. There are also some tire prints in the next field over.
We're figuring he had an accomplice."

Deputy Cunningham recited the details of his initial investigation. He
was obviously curious about the relationship between C.J. and Olivia.

"Get some techs out and dust everything." C.J. instructed them and then
turned to address Olivia. "Was he wearing gloves?"

She was holding Fang, who was squirming madly. "Heavens, he could've
been wearing Mickey Mouse ears and I wouldn't have noticed." She told
him about the part Myrtie had played in her near miss.

"You threatened him with a snake!" He tapped lightly on the glass wall
of the aquarium. "Good Myrtie." He took the dog from her arms and was
immediately bathed in kisses.

209

C.J. didn't know whether it was the full moon or the unseasonably hot
weather-you could almost wring the water out of the air-but whatever it
was, the crazies were out in force. The Hardaways had mysteriously
disappeared from the face of the earth and the guys on motorcycles were
as elusive as ever. Plus now he had a break-in at Rose Alvarado's
gallery. What next?

Should he tell Olivia? Yep-it wasn't smart to keep secrets from that
young lady.

"Livy, do you know where your parents are?" he asked. Rose's gallery had
an alarm and that was probably the only thing that had stopped the
intruders. The deputies had turned off the noisy system, but so far they
hadn't located Rose or Raul.

"Why?" she asked.

Bless her heart, she had a suspicious streak a mile wide.

He tipped back his Stetson, one of his favorite stalling tactics.
"Because someone tried to break into the Toad and Turtle and we can't
get in touch

210

with Rose. I'd like her to take an inventory and secure the place."

"Mother Mary! This used to be a nice place to live. What has happened to
this town?"

That was exactly what C.J. intended to find out.

Olivia tried both her mother's cell and her home phone, to no avail.
"I'm pretty sure she has a Sara Belle party at Sissy's house. And I
think Daddy's bowling."

"Do you know Sissy's number?"

"No."

"That's okay, I can find it." C.J. got the number for Lolly's aunt from
the dispatcher-but he didn't get an answer when he called.

"Let's go see if we can get hold of her."

"What do you think is really going on?" Olivia asked. The blue lights of
the dash emphasized C.J.'s clenched jaw.

She reached across the mounted computer and touched his forearm. "I'm
scared." It was the first time she'd admitted that the situation was
beyond her control. "It can't be money. I'm still knee-deep in paying
off my loans. And they couldn't have heard about the jar of pennies I've
saved since the eighth grade." She put her head in her hands. "This is
making me crazy!"

"I know, sweetheart." C.J. stroked her cheek. "I'll be honest, I don't
have a clue. But I certainly intend to find out. I think it has
something to do with the Hardaways, but I don't know what. I did a
background check on them and didn't learn anything

other than the fact that he's an itinerant preacher from Arizona. They
don't have rap sheets or fingerprints or anything."

He wouldn't leave a stone unturned while someone was trying to harm the
woman he loved. "After we talk to your mom and get that settled, I'll
take the rest of the night off. Come stay with me. I'm feelin' the need
to hold you." He ran his finger gently across her bottom lip.

The coup de grace to the miniseduction was a wink-an irresistible
enticement.

"Uh-huh." A night with C.J. would certainly get her mind off assailants
and felons. What was it about the man that made her turn to mush every
time he touched her?

He had the temerity to grin. "I presume that's a yes." Before she could
respond, they'd arrived in Sissy's neighborhood.

"Guess we were right. Look at all the cars."

The street was lined with familiar autos. It seemed that every woman in
town over the age of forty-five was at the Sara Belle party. "These
parties are simply an excuse to gossip and drink," Olivia pronounced.
Not that there was anything wrong with sharing a glass of good wine and
a few rumors with friends.

C.J. found a parking spot at the end of the block. With his police
vehicle he could have double-parked, but he didn't think this situation
warranted it.

Sissy was decked out in a pink satin robe and fluffy matching mules when
she answered the door.

"Mis. Aguirre. ma'am.'1 C.J. tipped his hat. "Is

208

Rose available? I need to speak to her." Sissy's frightened glance
bounced from CJ. to Olivia. She didn't utter a word before she scurried
to the living room, leaving them standing on the porch.

"Guess we scared her," CJ. commented as he ushered Olivia into the foyer
and closed the front door. "Finding a cop on your doorstep at night
tends to prompt that reaction."

Rose Alvarado ran up to Olivia and almost knocked her over with her hug.
"What's wrong? Is it your daddy?"

"No, Mama. Daddy's fine, I'm sure. Someone tried to break into the
gallery and you need to come with us to check it out. It was probably
kids." And if her mother bought that load of garbage, pigs would soon be
doing barrel rolls over Port Serenity.

The gallery office was ransacked, but as far as they could tell nothing
else was taken or disturbed. "Do you have anything valuable that someone
might want?" CJ. asked.

Rose was at the desk trying to restore order to the chaos.

"No. I don't keep money overnight and the jewelry is in the safe. The
only other valuable thing in here is the computer system. And as you can
see-" she waved a hand at the equipment "-it's all here. I don't get it."

Neither did C.J. First someone tried to assault Olivia, and then Rose's
gallery was ransacked. Either the two women had something in their
possession, or someone had a vendetta against the family. And the

Alvarado family was about as wholesome as you could get.

"Has anyone given you anything in the past couple of months? Asked you
to keep a diary, a book, a piece of jewelry for them? Think outside the
box. It could be anything."

Olivia nibbled on her bottom lip as she contemplated the question. "I
can't come up with anything." She turned to her mother. "How about you?"

Rose had an identical response. "Do you really think they're looking for
something?" she asked CJ.

"Yes, ma'am. I sure do." And CJ. knew he'd better discover it sooner
rather than later.

211

"I still can't figure out why someone would do all this...." Olivia said
as she gestured helplessly trying to come up with the appropriate word.
After C.J. and Olivia left the gallery, they picked up takeout from the
deli and had supper on C.J.'s deck. Fang was chewing on a dried pig's ear.

Olivia was spooned up against C.J.'s chest as they sat on the chaise.
"Mmm. This feels so good. I love listening to the ocean."

"Me, too." He emphasized his agreement with a kiss on her neck. "For
tonight, let's forget about bad guys and concentrate on us."

"Oh, yes." It was hard to concentrate when he was nibbling on her neck.
Not to mention the things he was doing with his hands--those talented,
talented hands.

He worked his kisses down from her neck 'to her collarbone and back
across the nape of her neck.

"You can keep that up for a century, if you like."

"Aah, I like," he muttered as he skimmed kisses

on every square inch of uncovered skin. His hands had moved under her
T-shirt to caress her breasts.

Olivia snuggled in closer and raised her arms around his neck. "Hmm,"
she purred, contentment coming from every pore.

"I know something that'll make you feel even better."

"Better than this? No way."

"Yeah, way." He scooted Olivia forward enough on the chaise for him to
get up. "Come with me." He gave her a hand up and led her back to the
master bedroom.

"Your bed, huh?"

"Nope." He pulled her into the bathroom and turned on the water in the
Jacuzzi. "I've been waiting to christen this tub with you." C.J.
rummaged through the linen closet and brought out a bottle of
lavender-scented bubble bath. "And for you, I don't even mind smelling
like a bawdy house."

His waggling eyebrow pushed Olivia into a bout of the giggles. She had
never mastered the art of waggling an eyebrow.

"So you don't mind smelling like a girl, huh?" She wrapped her arms
around his neck and rubbed up and down-a contented kitten couldn't have
done it better.

"Too many clothes," he mumbled between hot, wet kisses. Her T-shirt went
sailing to the floor. His ended up on the same pile.

The sudsy water filled the tub and bubbled like the witches' cauldron in
Macbeth. She rubbed her hands against the plane of his chest and ran a
finger down to the button fly on his Levi's. Pop went the first. Pop

212

went the second. When she reached the third, his hand covered hers.

"It's your turn." He slowly, slowly, slowly pulled down the zipper of
her Wranglers, then slid off her jeans and sandals.

He pulled her closer to the bathtub as he dispensed with his jeans, then
took her hand and they stepped in.

There was nothing more erotic than a tub of hot water and an even hotter
man. And this man was about as hot as you could get.

Olivia sank into the warm water while drinking in the sight of those
mesmerizing sea-foam-green eyes, the dimples that could charm the
hardest of hearts-and had she mentioned the most awesome chest west of
the Mississippi?

He held out his hand, which contained a bar of soap. "Do you want me to
wash your back?"

"Uh-huh." Olivia drifted over and presented her back for his devious
form of soaping. Up and down, round and round-the massaging was
interspersed with small nibbles every place he rinsed off the soap. Then
he drew her closer and did the same to the front-deliberately paying
rapt attention to her sensitive nipples.

"You're killing me!" Not only was she red-hot with lust, her entire body
had turned into a bowl of Jell-O. Her legs wouldn't hold her up even if
the place caught fire. "Do something," she demanded.

The chuckle rumbled up from his belly. "Do what?" he said innocently,
knowing full well what she wanted.

"This!" Olivia lunged for him, capturing his mouth in a kiss that went
on and on.

"My fingers are as wrinkled as raisins." Olivia lifted a hand for his
inspection. "Why don't we adjourn to the bed?"

"Sounds like a plan to me." CJ. stood and took Olivia with him. "Wait
here." He stepped out of the tub, returned with a fluffy white bathrobe
and made a ceremony of wrapping it around her.

"Do you keep this for all your women?" It was an unfair question, but
one her evil angel forced her to ask.

He kissed her once and then repeated it before he retrieved a matching
robe from the back of the door. "Nope. I'm an optimist. I knew you'd be
here."

215

The truce between Chandler and Selena was short-lived. She had hoped
their dinner in Corpus would be a turning point-but so much for
unfounded optimism.

After the Mexican encounter with Enrique, Chandler had reverted to
monosyllabic communication. Yes, no, maybe-and sometimes if she was
lucky he'd throw in a "pass the salt."

The silent treatment was apparently irritating Corrine, too, because at
dinner she asked him when he was planning to return to New York. That
was about as subtle as a Mack truck.

Selena wasn't quite sure what she thought about Chandler going back to
work. But she did know that since Enrique was out of the picture, she
had to decide what to do with the rest of her life. Did she want to live
in Dallas again? That wasn't very appealing. What did she want to do?

Corrine was at a biker picnic and Chandler was God only knew where-so
the hell with him. Selena was

fixing a tuna salad sandwich when she heard the front door open. Since
Enrique was indisposed, so to speak, it was either Chandler or the local
burglar, and at this point Selena didn't know which was preferable.

Chandler strolled in and took a big bite of her sandwich.

"Stop that!" Selena swatted his hand and indicated the bowl of tuna.
"Make your own."

Even his smirk was sexy. "It's easier to snack on yours," he replied,
but he gave her the remainder of the sandwich.

"Keep it. I'll make another one."

"Suit yourself." He put the sandwich on a plate and loaded it up with
potato chips. Chandler truly didn't know why he turned into a
Neanderthal every time he encountered Selena, but when he got a whiff of
her shampoo something hit him like a ton of bricks. It was lust-pure and
simple and if it wasn't lust he was in a boatload of trouble.

"What are you planning to do now that Enrique isn't on your tail?" He
might as well ask the question that had been niggling at him.

She plopped a spoonful of tuna onto a bed of lettuce and sat down to
eat. "I have to get a job. Money's getting a bit scarce and I can't
sponge off your family forever." She wasn't about to confide in him.
"How about you?"

Chandler chuckled, thinking about his mother's questioning. "Mom says
it's time for me to go back to work. I'm pretty sure all the old Star
Trek reruns are driving her nuts."

216

Selena could relate to that-if she never heard Captain Kirk's voice
again, she'd be a happy woman.

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?" Suddenly he moved his chair so close that if she leaned over
just a bit she could kiss him-not that she would ever consider kissing
him. Uh-huh-sure!

Chandler had been the starring attraction in a number of serious
fantasies, but they didn't even compare to the real thing. She was in
his arms before she had a chance to offer even token resistance. The
kiss was long and thorough, and the stray thought skittered through her
brain that he wasn't as immune as he'd always pretended. In fact, he
didn't seem impervious at all.

"Chandler," Selena murmured when he finished a scrumptious foray of her
mouth.

"Hmm."

"Do you think this is wise?" She wasn't sure why she was broaching this
particular subject.

"Hmm."

Okay, so he was engrossed in what he was doing-which wasn't such a bad idea.

"Oh, Selena." Chandler buried his face in the hollow of her neck and
sifted her hair through his fingers. "I've wanted to do this for weeks."

That was an interesting admission. Selena placed a hand on his chest and
gently pushed. "So why have you been at my throat since you've been
here?" What was wrong with her? Kissing Chandler had been an obsession
for practically her entire adult life-so

why was she sabotaging her one, and probably only,

chance?

"What?"

Yep-he'd skipped from lust to mad in a record one point two seconds, and
it was her own fault.

"I simply wondered why you were interested in kissing me now." And when
had she mastered the snooty debutante attitude?

Chandler shoved back his chair and stood. "I don't think I'm interested
anymore." He ran a hand through his hair. "No, make that I'm sure I'm
not interested, now or ever. Why would I get involved with someone who
could jump in and out of marriage as casually as you did?"

"What did you say?" Selena came to her feet, ready to take on the man of
her fantasies who had somehow changed into her worst nightmare,

"I'm talking about you getting married in order to have a better
lifestyle. That's about as cheap as you can get!" Good God! Where had
that come from? He was known for thinking on his feet, but this time his
brain had taken a vacation.

"Cheap? I'll give you cheap! Madre de Dios!" she screeched, very tempted
to whack him in the face with a handful of tuna salad. Instead, she ran
out of the kitchen.

"I must be the biggest idiot in the universe," Chandler muttered to
himself. How could he have made such a mess of things? Selena probably
wouldn't forgive him, and he couldn't blame her. He'd have a hard time
forgiving himself.

219

Olivia's thoughts were such a jumble that keeping her mind on her job
was almost impossible. Toward the end of the afternoon, C. J. called and
said he had a meeting with the county exec and that he'd be over later
that night. That was okay, because it gave her a chance to discuss the
ongoing puzzle with Rose.

"Mama, are you home?" Olivia called out. Rose's car was in the driveway,
but the house was dark. Although it was suppertime, the stove was cold.
The fragrant aromas that usually greeted her were merely a memory. Darn
it! She'd been looking forward to fried chicken or lasagna.

Olivia grabbed a Coke and wandered into the family room assuming her
mother would be home soon. A family conference was long overdue. If, as
C.J. suspected, the attacks had happened because of something they had
in their possession, they'd better figure out what it was-PDQ.

Olivia was halfway through a Buffy rerun when

she heard the telltale sounds of a key in the door. Betting it was her
mother, she called out, "Mama, I'm in the family room."

"Be there in a minute, baby," Rose answered. Muffled noises came from
the front foyer. Uh-oh. Someone had been shopping and wanted to hide the
evidence. Olivia slipped into the hall to check her theory. Yep, Rose
was surrounded by a pile of colorful department store bags and she was
rummaging in the bottom of the closet to make room for the booty.

"Buy anything interesting?" Olivia loved to shop, but with all the
recent craziness she hadn't taken time to indulge in that favorite
hobby. A pair of new shoes might improve her mood-but then again, this
was more momentous than a new pair of shoes.

Rose hugged her daughter. "You can look at everything but the stuff in
the Foley's sack. Someone I know needs a special treat."

Olivia had always loved the "no particular reason" gifts Rose gave her.

"What did you get me?" Olivia squealed.

"You'll find out after I have some tea." Rose picked up the bag and
marched toward her bedroom. "Rummage around in the kitchen and find some
sweets. I'll be right back."

Olivia wandered back to the kitchen to pour her mom a glass of tea. If
she was really lucky there'd be some homemade chocolate chip cookies.
Everyone knew chocolate was brain food, and if they had a chance in
h-e-double-toothpicks of figuring out this puzzle, they'd need a
trainload of Snickers.

220

Olivia's search of the kitchen was interrupted by the doorbell, if luck
was on her side, it was some kid selling candy. In that case she'd whip
out a twenty and solve two problems with one purchase.

The doorbell pealed again. "Hold your horses," she called as she put
down the glass of tea. "I'm coming." Olivia opened the door without
peeking through the side window.

Good heavens, it was Florene Hardaway. "I heard you'd moved," she
blurted. The rumor Olivia had heard was that as soon as the good
preacher got out of the hospital they'd taken off. And good
riddance-something about that woman raised the hair on the back of her neck.

"Can I come in?" Florene asked, by which time she was already halfway
through the door. Pushy broad!

"Sure." Olivia stepped aside and took notice of her guest's appearance.
Florene had always been flamboyant, but wow, she was sluttier than
normal! Her massive cleavage was barely covered by a stretchy tube top
that left her stomach bare. Yech! And her hair! What could be said about
her hair other than it was the size of Mt. Vesuvius.

"Mama, Miz Hardaway is here," she yelled. The bimbo was Mama's guest.
She could get rid of her!

"Please have a seat." Olivia followed Florene into the family room. The
woman was as skittery as a virgin on her wedding night.

Olivia was fresh out of conversation topics. "How's your husband?"

"Thanks for asking. He's fine."

So much for small talk. "Would you like a glass of tea?" Darn those good
manners-they popped up at the most inconvenient times.

"No, no. But do you have anything stronger?"

Stronger! This was totally weird.

"I don't know. Let me see what Daddy has."

Raul Alvarado's liquor supply consisted of half a bottle of tequila (no
worm) and a dusty bottle of Grand Marnier.

"Tequila or Grand Marnier?" Olivia held up the two containers.

Florene didn't hesitate a second. "Tequila, straight up."

"Mama!" Olivia shouted. Rose could take care of this fruitcake. "Mama!"

"Olivia Alvarado, I'm not deaf. What's all the racket?" Rose spoke
before she saw their visitor. "Florene, my word! What are you doing back
in town?" When she saw the empty tequila bottle on the shelf and the
glass of clear liquid in Florene's hand, she shot Olivia a puzzled look.

Olivia responded with a shrug.

"I see you have some refreshment. Should I open a bottle of wine?" Rose
asked without waiting for an answer. Lickety split-she was in the
kitchen snatching the cork out of a bottle of Chardonnay, apparently she
was working on the assumption that it was five o'clock somewhere in the
world.

That was just fine. Olivia suspected before the end of this encounter
they'd both need more than a single glass of wine. And was her
premonition spot on.

222

Rose gave Olivia a tumbler of wine. "Here, I think you'll need this."

"Okay, Florene. What's up?" Rose asked.

The woman wiped her hands down the front of her skintight Wranglers,
played with the tassels on a throw pillow and twisted and twirled her
hair in an obvious stalling tactic. If her florid complexion was any
indication, her blood pressure was in the stratosphere.

"Well, it's like this." Florene bit her lip nervously. "Um, I really
didn't intend to get you folks involved." She held out her hands in
supplication. "But everything got screwed up."

Olivia wanted to scream in exasperation, but managed to maintain her
calm. Mama didn't appear to be faring as well.

"Go on, go on." Rose gulped half her glass of Chardonnay.

"It's like this," she said again. "My name's not Florene Hardaway and my
husband is not Brother Wilbur of the Bayou Church of the Saved Sinners.
In fact," she sheepishly admitted, "before we got to Port Serenity, we
hadn't darkened the door of a church in almost twenty years."

Okay, in a month of surprises that had to be the granddaddy.

"My name is Yvonne Madden and my hubby is Mad Dog Madden. He was one of
the big dogs," she giggled at the pun, "of the Diablo biker gang from
New Mexico. That is, until Pit Viper, he's the head guy you know, got
all wrapped around the axle about

some missing money. Swear to God-" she made the scouting salute of three
fingers "-we didn't know nothin' about that money. But we decided it was
time to make ourselves scarce."

Olivia and Rose listened intently, unsure why this revelation had
anything to do with them.

"But as a bit of insurance we took a computer disk that has all the
Diablo drug contacts, bank account numbers, stuff that could send a lot
of people to the pen in Santa Fe."

O-kay! This had jumped from weird to downright bizarre. Olivia still
couldn't figure out how this affected them. What did Florene want from them?

"I'll probably regret this, but I have to know. What happened to the
real Reverend and Mrs. Hardaway?" Olivia asked.

"Oh, that's simple. We were on our way to Mexico when we stopped at the
I-37 rest stop. You know the one way out in the boondocks? Anyway, Mad
Dog's bike was making a funny noise, so we pulled in there. It was the
middle of the night, but there was this old beat-up car sitting out
there running." She finished off the glass of tequila.

"We could see there were two people in the car and they didn't look none
too good. So Mad Dog jimmied the door, and sure enough, they were dead
as mackerels. For about a second we considered calling the cops but then
we remembered Mad Dog's rap sheet." Florene-no, make that Yvonne-leaned
forward as if to let them in on a secret. "Cops don't look too favorable
on a criminal record and dead

224

odies. Not that Mad Dog's ever done nothin' too violent.

"Anyway, those folks had everything but the kitchen sink in that car.
That was because they were moving down here, you know. We found personal
papers and letters from the church, plus their house keys. They made it
easy for us to take over their lives. We started thinkin' that since we
were close to the same age and size as the dead people, we'd take it as
a sign from God, If we could hide out for a couple days, maybe a week,
as Florene and Wilbur, it'd give us a head start on Pit Viper's boys."
She paused for a breath. "So there you go. We were reborn as the Hardaways.

"Problem was we had to get rid of the real Hardaways. Then Mad Dog had
this great idea. We'd dump them out at that wildlife place and let the
critters eat the bodies. Too bad those gators didn't help us out. But
that's neither here nor there." Yvonne waved a hand in the air.
"Anyways, it worked pretty good until my dolt of a husband called an old
buddy and Pit Viper got wind of where we were. He sent some guys down
here to get the disk. So we had to leave." She apparently thought this
was a satisfactory explanation, immediately flopped back and sighed.

They weren't murderers, but they were on a first-name basis with some
biker dude named Pit Viper. Good Lord. And how did they manage the
logistics of assuming someone's identity?

"How did you make sure you didn't meet someone from your past?"

"Well, we never took any phone calls and we had a message on the church
machine that we'd get back to any callers. A few people phoned, but we
never replied. We planned all along that this would be temporary."

"So what do you want from us?" Olivia asked.

"It's the pink piggy bank. You know the one I gave you the night of the
first Sara Belle party? The computer disk I told you about is in that
stupid pig. I had to hide it someplace, so I gave it to you as a hostess
gift. We figured we'd rob your place and retrieve it before we left town
But we had a few problems."

She had the grace to at least look guilty before she continued with her
explanation. "When Pit Viper's boys beat up on Wilbur, he told them
about you and the pig. And that's why they've been giving you guys such
a hard time. I'm sorry about that. Really I am."

Rose looked as stricken as Olivia felt.

"Didn't you-" Before Rose could finish her question, Olivia grabbed her
purse and fished out her cell phone.

"Yeah, I gave it to Amanda." She punched in Lolly's number, but Mee Maw
answered.

"I'm babysitting. Lolly and Christian went to Corpus Christi for
dinner." She was about to launch into a full-scale discussion of dining
establishments on the Gulf Coast, but Olivia cut her off.

"Does Amanda still have that piggy bank I gave her?

226

"She does? Okay, listen..." Olivia could hear a discussion in the
background. "I can't explain right now. But I want you to lock all the
doors and not open them for anyone without a badge. I'll be there in ten
minutes to get that bank." She didn't give Marcela a chance to respond
before she punched the off button.

"I don't know whether you came here to retrieve the disk or not," Olivia
said, "but I intend to take it to the sheriff." How dare these idiots
endanger the lives of innocent people!

Florene didn't bat an eyelash at Olivia's pronouncement. "I figured you
would. But I had to warn you before someone got hurt. Now my conscience
is clear and we're gonna disappear for good." She picked up her purse
and dashed for the front door.

"Oh, my heavens!" Rose clutched her chest. "Retrieve that thing
immediately and take it to C.J. He'll know what to do with it."

Olivia broke every speed limit on her way to Lolly's. She'd probably
scared Marcela out of a year's worth of life, but the sooner the pink
beast and its contents were in the hands of a guy with a gun, the better
she'd like it.

Marcela was standing at the back door when Olivia skidded in and stopped
on a dime.

"Livy, child, you about scared me to death. I've got this place locked
up like Fort Knox. Get in, get in." Mee Maw pulled Olivia in and slammed
the dead bolt shut.

"What's this all about?" she demanded.

Olivia gave her a rundown on everything she knew. Even though she didn't
think the thugs would target Lolly's house, she suggested Marcela call
Christian and Lolly and tell them to come home.

"The bank is in Amanda's room on her dresser. I took her over to
Leslie's house. It's lucky she's not here." Yes, that was a lucky break
and they needed some luck.

She flew into her goddaughter's room and immediately saw the porker.
Talk about butt-ugly. Marcela was on the phone explaining things to
Lolly when Olivia whizzed out the door and jumped into her' Vette.

It was a twenty-minute trip to C.J.'s beach house-but she intended to
make it in ten. Petunia was feelin' the need to be in police custody.

229

C.J. was on the deck enjoying a cold beer and the sea breeze. He'd had a
long, boring meeting with the board of county commissioners and needed
some down time. The month had been a roller coaster of events and
emotions. Enrique Bolivar was out of the picture, so Selena was safe.
And his tenacity had paid off-Olivia had agreed to become a permanent
part of his life, even though she was stalling on a wedding date. Now he
had to keep her safe, and to do that he had to discover how Rose and
Olivia were tied into the vandalism and break-ins.

His options were fairly limited. More than likely they had something in
their possession. But what was it? Incessant banging on the front door
brought his internal brainstorming to a halt.

"I'm coming," he yelled, but even though he was shouting he wasn't sure
he would be heard over the racket. Fang was adding to the general chaos.
"Better be damned important," he muttered as he slid the 9mm into the
back waistband of his jeans.

Selena. What was she doing on his doorstep at this time of the night?
Almost before he had the door open, his ex-wife was in his arms, bawling
at the top of her lungs and babbling obscenities about Chandler. Crap-he
didn't need this. Not right now.

"It's okay. Shh. It'll be fine." C.J. rubbed her back and made
comforting noises. All the while he was trying to decide what Mom would
do if he gutted his brother.

"Come on back to the kitchen. I'll get you a drink." He pushed Selena
toward the kitchen and guided her into a chair. Fang jumped on her lap
and did his usual kissy routine. The dog was a sucker for a good-looking
woman.

"I have beer," he said, inventorying the contents of the refrigerator.
"Shiner or Corona, and I also have wine." He held out a half-empty
bottle for her inspection. "Afraid I don't have anything stronger." C.J.
waited for an answer. Selena's tears had dried, but the occasional
hiccup still popped through.

"Corona, please," she answered, wiping her face with the end of her T-shirt.

C.J. set the two beers on the table and took her hand.

"Okay, what's the problem?"

She took a big gulp of Corona and hiccupped again. Fang took that as an
invitation to sneak in a few more kisses. "It's Chandler. It's always
Chandler-he's a lowlife, deplorable jerk! We had a horrible fight." She
sniffed and blew her nose on a paper napkin. "We both said awful things
that can't be taken back."

230

Her next sentence was muttered so softly C.J. couldn't hear her. "So
what did you say?" he asked.

Selena raised her tearstained face. "I don't think he loves me."

Of all the things she could have said that was the most astonishing. Hot
damn! Selena was in love with Chandler. And C.J. was positive the
feeling was mutual. But forcing his obstinate sibling to admit it might
require a good old knuckle sandwich.

"Tell you what." He took her half-finished beer and picked up Fang. "You
can spend the night here." He patted her back, hoping to give some
comfort. Crying women. There oughta be a manual. "We'll figure it out in
the morning. Don't worry."

That should give him time to get Chandler's take on the situation. This
was so reminiscent of their childhood, C.J. had to laugh. Their usual
way of settling a dispute was a knock-down drag-out fight out in the
backyard, so he'd talk to Chandler and then give him a pounding.

"I'm not ever going home, not with that man there," she proclaimed
rather emphatically.

"Tell you what, why don't you take a nice bubble bath? It'll make you
feel better." At least a soak in the tub always seemed to make Olivia
very, very happy. And it would give him some time and privacy. He
chucked Selena's chin and was rewarded by a watery smile. "I'll put your
car in the garage and even get you another beer. Does that sound good?"

C.J. guided her into the bathroom and ran a tub

of sudsy water. "Did you bring any clothes?" he asked, although he
hadn't seen a bag.

"No, I didn't think about anything but getting away."

"That's okay. I have some running shorts and a T-shirt."

C.J. returned with a set of clean clothes. "The towels are in the
cabinet and the shampoo and other stuff is in there, too." Olivia had
left some things- shampoo, lotion, girlie things. "Help yourself to
anything you want. I'll be out in the garage."

"Hmm. Okay."

She didn't bother to ask what fascinating project he had going on in the
garage. A good thing she wasn't curious. His conversation with Chandler
would require privacy. That boy had a lot of explaining to do.

C.J.'s Explorer was in the driveway so he was at home-thank goodness!
She hadn't been sure how long his meeting would last.

Olivia pulled the 'Vette behind the sheriff's car and retrieved the
piggy bank. She resisted the urge to hold it in two fingers. It was
repugnant, ugly and perhaps even dangerous, but it wasn't radioactive.

When Olivia knocked at the front screen, Fang was there to yap a
welcome. She opened the door and bent over to scratch behind his ears.
"How's my boy?" The dog rolled on his back, exposing his stomach for
more attention. Of course, Olivia complied with some vigorous rubbing.

"C.J." she called, looking back over her shoulder

232

to the open door. That was odd-he didn't normally leave his house
unlocked. The sound of music drifted from the back of the house, where
the master bedroom and bath were located. C.J., bed, music. Hmm, that
had potential. She tiptoed down the hall although stealth wasn't really
necessary-the music was so loud a herd of elephants could have been
marching by and he wouldn't have heard them.

The bathroom door wasn't quite closed, so when Olivia tapped with her
finger, it slid open with a squeak.

She peeked around the sill and saw...

Selena! What was she doing in CJ.'s tub? For a moment Olivia had a flash
of jealousy, but then she glanced at the ring on her finger. It was a
promise of "forever after" and whatever the redhead was doing here had
nothing to do with Olivia's relationship with CJ. He loved her and she
loved him. Any remnant of jealousy was gone. She really, really trusted
him and even more astonishing, she was ready to face her wedding phobia.

CJ. had retreated to the garage for his argument with Chandler. Talk
about someone who had a commitment problem. The guy was world-class.

He had just punched in Chandler's cell number when he heard a car drive
up. He peeked out the garage door and caught sight of Olivia's 'Vette.
Great. Just fantastic. Selena was in his bathtub and Olivia had
disappeared inside the house. Afraid he was going to have referee a
catfight, C.J. raced in.

But he was either too late or a miracle had occurred. Olivia was leaning
into the refrigerator retrieving a couple of Coronas.

"Let me take this to Selena and then I have something really important
to tell you," she said before she strolled down the hall and disappeared
into the master bedroom.

If the Gulf of Mexico had miraculously parted, he couldn't have been
more surprised. Completely flummoxed, he got his own Corona and
collapsed at the kitchen table. She wasn't jealous. Was that really
Olivia or had the body snatchers made a visit to the Gulf Coast?

The question was answered when she returned to the kitchen and snuggled
in his lap.

Yep-this was his girl. He didn't know why she was clutching a hideous
pink piggy bank, and he didn't know why she was being so mellow about
Selena, but this woman was definitely Olivia.

She prefaced her story with a hot, hot kiss-sometimes pleasure before
business was good. "See this." Olivia held up the pig. "This atrocity is
the key to the Super Saver fiasco, the break-ins, everything." She told
him about Florene and Wilbur, the computer disk and Pit Viper.

"Hot damn." He'd suspected for some time the bikers and the Hardaways
were connected, but this story was one for the books. It would give him
great pleasure to round up the ersatz preacher and his wife. They had
created havoc in his little corner of the world.

CJ. was busy indulging in a brief necking session when he heard a
discreet cough.- Selena! He came up

234

for air and sure enough, there was Selena watching them with a big grin
on her face.

"If you ladies will excuse me." He kissed Olivia again. "I have some bad
guys to catch."

235

In addition to dealing with the flotsam and jetsam of everyday county
crime, CJ. was working diligently to track down the Hardaways and Pit
Viper's buddies. Just this morning, there had been a credible sighting
of Florene and Wilbur (aka Yvonne and Mad Dog) near Dallas, heading
north. He wasn't worried-they would be apprehended. Ditto for Pit Viper
and his crew.

With everything happening so quickly, he hadn't had a chance to really
talk to Olivia. She'd apparently mellowed about Selena, and that was
good. However, he didn't understand how Olivia could say she loved him
and still be so hesitant about setting a wedding date. Heck, she refused
to even talk about moving in together.

The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that it was
showdown time. She had to make a real commitment. CJ. shut down his
computer and informed the dispatcher he was leaving for the day.

236

"Come on, Fang, we're gonna have a nice talk with Olivia. It's time for
her to fish or cut bait."

Fang danced around his feet, obviously overjoyed at the prospect of
seeing his future mama.

Olivia was transcribing patient notes when she heard a noise in the
foyer. It was after business hours, so the staff was gone, and it was
too early for the cleaning crew. With a bit of trepidation she peeked
out her office door.

Good Lord! It was Brian. What was her ex-fiancé doing here? Her life had
become one bizarre surprise after another.

"Brian. You're the last person in the world I expected to see," she said
calmly. After the weird conversation they'd had last month, she'd
managed to avoid at least a dozen other calls. But thank goodness, she
hadn't actually seen the jerk since the night before their scheduled
wedding. Even after he'd left her standing at the altar, the coward
hadn't had the good manners to face her and explain his little
disappearing act. He'd sent her a note. A note!

"You wouldn't take my calls, so I decided to come down."

Olivia studied her ex-tall, nice-looking and still sporting a smarmy
smile. What a phony!

"I heard you're divorced."

He flashed her one of his patented grins. "So you've been keeping up
with me."

Mother Mary! What had she seen in this guy? Oh, yeah, she'd been young,
stupid, and naive. When they'd met in vet school, he'd seemed so
sophisticated.

"I thought maybe we could go out to dinner and talk about old times."

That would be over her dead body.

"Seriously, Liv, we had something special, and I'd like to see if we
still have that spark." He leaned forward as if to kiss her.

If he so much as put a paw on her, he'd live to regret it. Just the
thought of kissing him made her want to gag.

He was invading her personal space, but Olivia really didn't think he'd
do anything. However, she was big-time wrong. He grabbed her and was
trying for a serious kiss.

Before she could react and clout the jerk, she heard the front door slam
open. Uh-oh! That had to be C.J., and he wasn't going to be a happy camper.

C.J. couldn't believe his eyes. Who was the tall dude with his lips all
over Olivia? Obviously he had a death wish.

"Olivia?" He was trying his best to remain calm.

"C.J." She pushed against the man's chest and spun toward C.J. "This is
Brian."

"Brian?" Surely this couldn't be the Brian.

"It's not what you think," she said.

"And what do you think I think?" The woman he loved right down to the
marrow of his bones was in the middle of a full-fledged lip lock with an
ex-fiancé.

C.J. could tell he was about to lose his cool. He'd done everything a
man could possibly do, short of

238

standing on his head and whistling Dixie, and the woman was still
busting his chops.

Olivia claimed she loved him, but she seemed incapable of making a
commitment and without that commitment they were dead in the water. As
much as it pained him to admit it, he was probably better off without
her. At least a clean break would save his sanity-or maybe not. At the
very least, he had to get out of there and do some thinking.

Oops! "C.J., listen to me." Olivia grabbed the front of his shirt,
intent on making him understand. But then she looked into a pair of
green eyes that were as stormy as a category four hurricane. The dimples
were gone, the smile was missing, and the cocky charm was definitely
absent. The man standing before her was a stranger-an angry stranger.

Olivia took a deep breath, a very deep breath, and tried to regroup.
Rose always said that even a fish wouldn't get into trouble if it kept
its mouth shut. Well, this time she felt like a great big flounder. This
was an "oops" of monumental proportions, and it was all Brian's fault.

"Brian, get out of here and don't ever come back," she commanded, and he
took off like the rat he was.

She was almost afraid to face C.J. She'd never seen him quite so upset.
"Please listen to me. I didn't have anything to do with him coming here.
And I certainly wasn't kissing him."

When he spoke it was so quiet, Olivia had to lean forward to hear him.

"You could've fooled me." He shook his head ruefully. "But we really
have a bigger problem than Brian. You're not willing to make a
commitment, and I love you too much not to have a 'till death do us
part' promise. I don't think I can do it anymore." With those final
words, he flipped his car keys in his hand and left.

Olivia tried to organize her thoughts, but the sound of the Explorer
screeching out of the driveway was the only thing she could process.
Aarrggh-a primal scream was itching to get out. Instead she issued a
heartfelt one-word comment. "Crap!"

Olivia had waited too long to make a decision and now she was in a big
mess of trouble. If she couldn't make this one right, her heart would
suffer Humpty Dumpty's fate.

No doubt about it-she was the biggest moron in south Texas.

241

After the debacle with Brian, Olivia halfway expected C.J. to cool down
and call her, but he didn't. If the grapevine was accurate, he had
talked to Rose, and Lolly, and Christian, and probably even the
janitor-but he hadn't called her. And that was why she hijacked Lolly
for lunch and advice.

"I'm miserable and I've been pigging out on comfort food," Olivia
admitted. "But nothing's working." She poked a fork at the pile of
mashed potatoes on her plate. "So maybe I'll just stop eating. At least
I won't be dumped, miserable and obese."

"You are such a fool. He still loves you. We just have to come up with a
plan."

"I've left C.J. so many messages I feel like a stalker. And after he
changed his cell number, I started getting that new pizza place out on
the highway. He changed his number. Can you believe that?" Olivia
pounded her hand on the table and stabbed at her potatoes again. "So
what is our plan?"

Lolly nibbled on her salad as she studied her friend.

"I know I'll rue the day we had this conversation, but I'll talk to
Christian and see what he thinks. If anyone can get into C.J.'s brain,
it's my husband."

"Oh God, would you really? I need help." It might take a miracle, but so
be it. Olivia Alvarado wasn't about to let her man get away, even if she
had to kidnap and hog-tie him until he forgave her.

Kidnap? Hmm.

"How many years do you get for the felony kidnapping of a
law-enforcement officer? Hypothetically speaking, of course?"

Lolly choked on a piece of lettuce. "Not a good idea. We'll come up with
another solution. But let me tell you, I can't believe some of the
things you come up with. You're as crazy as he is."

"Regardless of the fact that he's not speaking to me right this minute,
he does love me."

"I suspect you're right." Lolly didn't tell her friend that C.J. had
been so grumpy everyone was avoiding him. Rumor had it his deputies had
passed a hat to get him a one-way ticket to Siberia.

"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Christian asked his wife as he
stopped the van in front of the senior center.

Lolly had serious doubts about the viability of this scheme. But with
the help of Rose, Mee Maw, Aunt Sissy, Corrine, Selena and Chandler-it
seemed like everyone was tired of C.J.'s grumpy mood-they'd cooked up
something that might or might not work. At best, it was still dim-witted.

242

"Because they're morons and we have to help them." Lolly responded.
"They've been so busy running from each other, they don't know when to
quit. And your friend is as stubborn as a Missouri mule."

"He's your friend, too."

"Yeah, and my friend Olivia is no lightweight in the stubborn category."

"Just for the record, I think this is stupid."

"Yeah. I do, too. But we couldn't come up with anything else that would
get him here."

CJ. was knee-deep in paperwork when the desk sergeant stuck his head in
the door. "Hey, boss, you have a call on line two. She won't take no for
an answer."

CJ. looked up from the file he was reading. "Who is it and what does she
want?"

The dispatcher had the audacity to chuckle. "It's Marcela Hamilton. She
said to tell you they're about to have a riot at the senior center. It's
over a bingo game."

The man had the audacity to chuckle all the way back to his desk. So
much for paperwork!

"Hey, Miz Hamilton, what's up?" The racket he could hear in the
background didn't bode well for a telephone solution to the problem.

"Hi. CJ. Well, it's like this. Sissy and I decided to go to the senior
center for bingo. They're giving away a plasma TV, you know, one of
those big flat ones."

"Yes, ma'am." Now finish the rest of the story.

"Anyway. when we got here, we found out that

Buddy Holidecker is the caller, and everyone knows he's deaf as a post."

The background noise grew louder. "Yes, ma'am." CJ. reached for his
Stetson. This would definitely require a visit.

"Anyway, he kept calling numbers after Mrs. Pomerantz got a bingo and
you can only imagine what happened after that. Gladys Schmidt got
involved in the fracas."

Yep, this demanded his personal attention. "I'll be over in ten minutes.
Can you keep the ladies from assaulting someone till I get there?"

With Marcela's assurance ringing in his ears, he whistled for Fang.
"Let's go, buddy. We have ladies to calm down."

"Did it work? Is he coming?" Lolly asked her mother. If anything would
get him there, it would be something involving Mrs. Pomerantz. But as
with all good conspiracies, nothing was a certainty.

"He's coming." Marcela did a high-five with Mrs. P. Veteran matchmakers,
the seniors had dived into the plot headfirst. Olivia was the only
person in the hall who looked less than enthusiastic.

"I'm having my doubts about this." She shrugged. "What if he still won't
talk to me?"

Aunt Sissy patted her hand. "He's a man. Once he gets a gander at you,
he won't be thinking about talking. Kissing is a much better form of
communication."

"Is everyone ready? We want lots of noise when he pulls up." Lolly
instructed. "And Buddy-" The

244

bingo caller failed to respond. "Buddy!" she screamed. "You have to
pretend to be in a rumble with Mrs. P." "Okay," he bellowed.

C.J.'s BS METER was on high alert. He spied Olivia's ' Vette hidden next
door and Lolly's minivan parked down the street. What were those two up
to? He left the Explorer by the front door and stalked in.

It wasn't until he caught a flash of red hair-a sight that was so out of
context in the sea of gray- that he was absolutely positive he'd been
conned. Hail, hail, the gang was all there-Chandler, Selena, Rose, Raul,
Lolly, Christian and Olivia. Yep, they'd pulled off a sting.

Ignoring Olivia and her friends, he strolled over to Marcela and Sissy.
"What's going on?"

Before he could get an answer, Mrs. P. joined them.

Uh-oh! This was playing out exactly as Olivia was afraid it would. He
was still mad. "This was such a dumb plan," she wailed. "He acted like
he didn't even see me." She twisted the engagement ring on her left hand.

"Just wait. We haven't played our trump card yet," Lolly said. "I'm sure
it'll work, even if Mama and Aunt Sissy did dream it up. Good God, those
two are devious."

Fang sidled up to Olivia waiting to be cuddled. "Hi, sweetie," she said
as she picked him up and rubbed his ears.

"See what's happening up there?" Lolly pointed

at the conference involving C.J., Mrs. Pomerantz and Buddy Holidecker.

"And check out C.J.'s grin. It's gonna work."

Pray God she was right, because if this one went south, Olivia was fresh
out of ideas. However, the thought of leaving her fate in the hands of
Mee Maw and Aunt Sissy, the ditzy sisters, didn't give her a great deal
of confidence.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're going to have a bingo game in honor of our
sheriff." Someone without the need of a hearing aid had taken over from
Buddy Holidecker. "So grab your cards and get ready to play. The bingo
will be to cover your entire card and the prize is three dozen homemade
tamales from Gutierrez Taqueria. Just thinkin' about those tamales makes
my mouth water. So get ready to bingo."

C.J. recognized a setup when he saw it, but he played along waiting to
see what would happen. His curiosity was killing him. Olivia had to love
him, or she wouldn't have gone to this much trouble. Yes sir, she loved
him. Praise the Lord! But he wasn't about to make it easy for her. So he
continued to ignore the woman he loved and sat down to play bingo with
Mrs. Pomerantz and Gladys Schmidt.

"You know, ladies, you'd make my job a whole lot easier if you took up
knitting."

"Who says you can't get into trouble knittin'?" Gladys giggled as she
marked the first number on her card.

Throughout an interminable bingo game, C.J. managed, through sheer
determination, not to glance

246

in Olivia's direction. Or at least not until the caller announced B-19
and a very familiar and feminine voice in the corner called "Bingo." He
glanced down at his card and realized he was also a winner. This amazing
coincidence had to be karma, or the work of the most devious bunch of
seniors in the Lone Star state-and he was betting on the latter. Half
the people in the hall had probably bingoed thirty minutes ago.

CJ. strolled over to Olivia and held up his card with all the numbers
marked out. "Guess we're going to have to share those tamales." He was
pleased to notice she didn't seem at all comfortable with the situation.
"Or, Livy darlin', you can have them all to yourself if you'll give me a
kiss." Before she could answer, he brought her to her feet.

And what a kiss it was! Delicious, delightful, delectable. He was
leaving a trail of kisses from her earlobe to the corner of her mouth,
down to her neck, and back up again. If only he'd keep it up for the
next century. Fang skittered around their feet wanting to get in on the
action.

CJ. pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. "Oh, Livy. I had
to do that. I've been going out of my mind for the past two weeks."

"You're not mad at me?" she asked hopefully, pretty sure the word mad
was not in his current vocabulary.

"Uh-uh. Here's the deal. I trust you, and I love you so much it makes me
crazy." He lifted her hand and kissed the finger that still held his
ring. "And I know

you love me. But we have to have a mutual trust of each other. We can't
have a life together if there isn't trust. And I'm not willing to settle
for anything less than marriage."

"I trust you," she whispered. "I trust you with my life, my love,
everything. And if you want to get married this afternoon, I'm ready."

"Really?"

He had a right to be suspicious, but this was the most important
conversation they'd ever had.

"Really." She couldn't resist a little nibble on his neck. "I had things
all messed up in my mind, but now I have my head on straight. You're my
soul mate. I thought I lost you and I didn't think I'd survive that."

His dimple had made a sudden appearance. "So you'll trust me even if I
stay out all night drinking with the boys?"

Olivia suppressed a wince, even though she was fairly sure he was
kidding. "Even then. Yeah, even then," she repeated, her tone a bit more
sure the second time.

It began as a chuckle and ended as a full-blown belly laugh. "Damn, I'm
a lucky man. Did I ever tell you I love you?" CJ. kissed her once, took
a deep breath and started all over, then pulled back and cleared his throat.

"I think we have an audience."

Ye gads! She'd almost forgotten where they were. The applause started as
a ripple and grew to a Friday night football decibel.

248

"It looks like they approve." C.J. underlined that comment with another
kiss. "Did you see what I saw?" he asked when he came up for air.

"What?" The crazy man was asking questions when she was having a hard
time remembering her own name.

"Selena and Chandler were over in the corner necking."

"Hot dog. Love must be in the air." Olivia turned to their audience.
"You're all invited to a wedding. Date and time to be announced, but
it'll be soon. Very, very soon!"

Fang plopped down on C.J.'s boot and gave a Great Dane-sized burp.

"Okay, who's been feeding this dog?" C.J. and Olivia exclaimed in unison.

In Ann DeFee's next American Romance,

Mee Maw and Sissy take off on that road trip to discover the highways and

byways of Texas-and to meet some good-looking

men who actually remember Elvis in his prime.

Watch for SOMEWHERE DOWN IN TEXAS, coming in March 2007!

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE

A new series about love, relationships and the road to the altar

THE MAN SHE'LL MARRY

by Ann Roth

Cinnamon Smith's attraction to Nick Mahoney is purely physical-

or so she thinks. From the moment she meets him, Cinnamon can't seem

to get him out of her mind, even though Nick is miles from her idea of the

right man for her. But finding love-and the right man to marry-

rarely happens as we expect!

Available June, whereever books are sold. www.eHarlequin.com.